It started with whispers, then snickers, then something worse. Ezra didn’t notice at first—not until the cafeteria went dead quiet one afternoon, right before the boom of Brandon “Bruiser” Michaels' voice echoed across the lunchroom.

  "Yo, Cumstain! You forget to wipe your face again, or is that just how you like it?"

  The words hit Ezra like a sp. He froze, mid-bite, feeling every eye in the room turn toward him. A wave of ughter followed, some loud and obnoxious, others muffled behind hands or bent heads. He heard a couple of kids gagging dramatically, one girl squealing, "Ew, oh my God!"

  Ezra clenched his jaw.

  He didn’t know what it meant. Not really. But the way people reacted—like Bruiser had just roasted him—made his blood boil.

  He wasn’t an idiot. He could put some pieces together.

  It was bad.

  And it was everywhere now.

  Doing nothing only made it worse.

  The first time Bruiser shoved him into a locker, it was a test—just to see if he’d react. Ezra had barely turned the corner when bam—a shoulder rammed into his, sending him sprawling backward into cold metal.

  “Oops,” Bruiser said, grinning. “Didn’t see ya there, Cumstain.”

  Ezra gritted his teeth, shoving himself off the locker, but before he could take a step, Bruiser blocked his path, fnked by two of his friends.

  "Hold up. You know the drill," Bruiser said, holding out his hand expectantly.

  Ezra’s stomach twisted.

  He knew what was coming.

  Lunch money. Again.

  For a second, he considered running, but Bruiser was bigger, stronger, and already between him and any escape route.

  "Not today," Ezra muttered, gripping his bag tighter.

  Bruiser chuckled, like Ezra was the dumbest person alive. Then—

  WHAM.

  Ezra barely saw the punch coming before it hit his gut, knocking the air from his lungs. He doubled over, gasping, knees wobbling as he caught himself on the lockers.

  "You sure about that, Cumstain?" Bruiser sneered.

  Ezra, still wheezing, reached into his pocket and spped his crumpled bills into Bruiser’s waiting hand. The bastard winked, stuffing the money into his own pocket.

  "See? That wasn't so hard." Then he was gone, leaving Ezra leaning against the lockers, fists clenched so hard his nails bit into his palms.

  His lunch was gone. Again.

  And no one had stepped in to stop it.

  It didn’t stop in the hallways. Even in css, Bruiser found ways to make Ezra’s life hell. Group projects were the worst. “Hey,” Bruiser called loudly from across the cssroom. “We gotta work with Cumstain? Damn, guess I’ll do all the work. Don’t want his mustache juices getting on my part of the project.”

  Laughter erupted around them.

  Ezra saw red.

  “I don’t even know what the hell that means,” he snapped, finally unable to hold his tongue.

  Bruiser smirked, leaning back in his chair. “Ohhh, you don’t know?” He turned to the rest of the css, grinning. "Guys, should we educate him?"

  A couple of kids ughed harder. Someone muttered, "Oh my God, he seriously doesn’t know?"

  Ezra’s stomach twisted.

  There was something wrong about the way they were all looking at him—something filthy.

  Bruiser grinned, taking out his phone. “I mean, I could show you—”

  “Mr. Michaels!” The teacher’s sharp voice cut through the ughter like a bde. “Enough!”

  Bruiser held up his hands, feigning innocence. “Jeez, alright, Miss K. Didn’t know Cumstain was so sensitive.” The css erupted into giggles. The teacher sighed but did nothing more.

  Ezra stared down at his desk, hands clenched into fists.

  He had never wanted to hit someone so badly in his entire life.

  Through it all, Ezra kept his struggles to himself.

  He didn’t tell his dad.

  He definitely didn’t tell Julie.

  He couldn’t.

  What was he supposed to say? Hey, some asshole at school calls me Cumstain, and I don’t even know what it means, but everyone thinks it’s hirious?

  No way.

  It was too humiliating.

  So he swallowed it down.

  Every taunt. Every shove. Every stolen dolr.

  And with every passing day, the weight of it settled heavier on his shoulders.

  Because for the first time in his life—

  Ezra felt completely alone.

  Seth had just sat down for the evening, a beer in one hand and his tablet in the other, when he heard it.

  Muffled. Gasping.

  Uncontrolled sobbing.

  His brows furrowed. He set the tablet aside, listening for a moment. The sound was coming from the bathroom.

  Ezra.

  Seth exhaled through his nose, running a hand down his face before pushing himself off the couch. He knew better than to barge in, but the raw, broken quality of those sobs twisted something deep in his gut.

  He knocked lightly. “Hey, bud. You alright in there?”

  No answer.

  Another sniffle. A sharp, frustrated inhale. Then—shhk, shhk, shhk.

  A razor.

  Seth didn’t hesitate. He pushed the door open.

  Ezra was standing in front of the sink, face blotchy and red, shaving cream smeared unevenly across his cheeks. His hands shook as he dragged the razor across his face with way too much force.

  Seth took one look at the angry red patches forming along Ezra’s jaw and stepped forward. “Alright, alright—hold up there, champ.”

  Ezra flinched, avoiding his father’s gaze as he tried to keep going. Seth pced a firm but gentle hand on his wrist, stopping him before he turned his face into raw hamburger meat.

  “Let go, Dad,” Ezra muttered, voice thick with tears.

  “Nope,” Seth said calmly, prying the razor from his grip. “Not until you tell me what the hell’s going on.”

  Ezra shook his head violently, his breath shuddering as he looked anywhere but his father.

  Seth sighed, stepping back to lean against the sink, arms crossed. “Ezra.” His voice was softer now. “Talk to me.”

  There was a long, heavy silence. Ezra clenched his fists at his sides, his whole body trembling with exhaustion, frustration—humiliation.

  Then, in a voice so small it barely reached the air—

  “…What does cumstain mean?”

  Seth blinked. His entire body stiffened.

  “…Huh?”

  Ezra wiped his sleeve across his face, eyes still welling with fresh tears. “They keep calling me that,” he choked out, “and everyone ughs, and I don’t even know what it means!”

  Seth opened his mouth, but—oh no.

  It hit him.

  It hit him hard.

  His lips twitched. His chest tightened.

  Then—snrk.

  A snort.

  A goddamn snort.

  He tried—he really tried—to keep it in, but that one sound was all it took.

  Ezra’s face crumbled.

  “You’re ughing?!” he wailed, voice breaking into another sob.

  Seth ran a hand over his mouth, rubbing at his chin, forcing his composure back down. “No—no, buddy, I’m not—”

  But Ezra shot him a gre through his tears.

  Seth took a deep breath. Think, man.

  "Alright, alright," he said, pushing off the sink. He crouched slightly, meeting Ezra at eye level. "Look, kid. You’re not ready to know what cum is, and that’s a conversation I’d rather not have while you’re holding a razor to your face."

  Ezra hiccupped, rubbing his nose on his sleeve. "Then what am I supposed to do? Just let them keep calling me that?"

  Seth exhaled through his nose, ruffling Ezra’s hair. "Nope. That’s where I come in."

  Ezra frowned, confused.

  "You’re gonna be thirteen next year," Seth continued. "And when that happens, I’m takin’ you to work with me."

  Ezra blinked. "…Huh?"

  Seth smirked. "Gonna throw you in with some real roughnecks. The kind of guys who’ll teach you how to handle nicknames, dish ‘em back, and get some actual manly hairs on that scrawny chest of yours."

  Ezra sniffled, scrubbing at his cheeks. "You’re just saying that."

  Seth shook his head. "Nope. This is me officially telling you—hold out for one more year. Push through this crap. And one day—when they least expect it—you’re gonna go from Cumstain to..."

  He cpped a hand on Ezra’s shoulder, grinning.

  "The Cum-Back Kid."

  Silence.

  Seth’s smirk immediately faded.

  His eyes widened.

  Ezra’s sniffling stopped.

  There was a beat of absolute, crushing stillness.

  Then—

  "WHAT?" Ezra howled.

  Seth’s soul left his body.

  "Wait—no—that’s not what I meant—"

  Ezra gawked at him, wiping his nose aggressively. "THE CUM-BACK KID?! DAD?!"

  Seth cpped both hands over his face, groaning into his palms. "Jesus Christ, abort mission, back up, rewind, UNDO."

  Ezra hiccupped through his remaining tears, but—against all odds—his lips twitched.

  Then, against his own will, he snorted.

  Seth peeked through his fingers.

  Ezra’s shoulders shook.

  A ugh.

  A real one.

  And suddenly, somehow, they were both ughing. Ezra was still ugly crying, but he was grinning through it, and Seth had to lean against the counter just to keep himself from wheezing.

  Ezra wiped his eyes, shaking his head. "God, you’re so bad at this, Dad."

  Seth groaned dramatically. "I swear, that sounded way better in my head."

  "Yeah? Well, your head sucks."

  Seth let out a breathy chuckle, ruffling Ezra’s hair again. "Yeah, yeah. But listen." He squeezed Ezra’s shoulder lightly. "You're gonna get through this, alright? I know it sucks. I know it feels like forever. But one day, you’ll look back and realize it was just a bump in the road. And trust me—when you’re grown, you’ll have a comeback for everything."

  Ezra sniffled again, but this time, he nodded.

  Seth smiled. "Now, put the damn razor down before you end up looking like a plucked chicken."

  Ezra rolled his eyes, but there was a small—real—smile there now.

  Seth gave his shoulder one st squeeze before standing. "C’mon, kid. Let’s get some ice cream. I heard that’s good for shaving-reted trauma."

  Ezra scoffed, wiping his nose again. "Ice cream isn’t a cure for trauma, Dad."

  Seth grinned. "Try telling that to me after your mom left."

  Ezra blinked.

  Seth blinked.

  "…Well," Seth muttered, clearing his throat. "That’s probably not the best example, but you get my point."

  Ezra, despite everything, let out a small, exhausted ugh. "Yeah, yeah. Let’s just go before you say something even worse."

  Seth ruffled his hair one st time. "Atta boy."

  And with that, they left the bathroom—Ezra feeling just a little lighter, and Seth already mentally kicking himself for "The Cum-Back Kid."

  It wasn’t until the next day that Julie found out.

  She had been standing by her locker, half-listening to the chatter of some of the gossipy bitches at school, when she heard it.

  "Oh my God, have you heard what they’re calling Ezra now?"

  "Yeah, ‘Cumstain’—"

  Julie froze.

  Her entire body went rigid as the girls cackled, going on about how Bruiser had practically branded Ezra with the name.

  "It’s soooo nasty, but like, kinda funny. He doesn’t even know what it means!"

  "I know, right?! He just gets all mad and storms off! So freaking hirious!"

  Julie smmed her locker shut so hard that the girls jumped. She turned, staring daggers at them.

  "Wow," she said ftly. "You guys are so funny. Real comedic geniuses."

  The girls shut up fast.

  Julie was already gone.

  She found Ezra outside, sitting alone on the curb, scuffing his shoe against the pavement.

  "Hey, Cumstain," she called, grinning as she plopped down next to him. "What’s up?"

  The second the word left her lips, she knew she had messed up.

  Ezra’s whole body stiffened.

  Julie’s smile died.

  He didn’t look mad.

  He didn’t roll his eyes or snap back.

  He just… stared at the ground. Shoulders tense. Hands clenched in his p.

  Julie felt it. The shift.

  "Ezra," she said quickly, "I didn’t mean—"

  "Don’t," he muttered. His voice was tight. Small.

  Julie’s stomach sank.

  She knew teasing. She lived for it. But this? This wasn’t teasing.

  This was damage.

  "Hey," she said, softer now. She nudged him, but he barely reacted. "I’m sorry, alright? I won’t say it again."

  Ezra swallowed hard, shaking his head. "They won’t stop," he said, voice raw. "Every day, they just—*"

  Julie grabbed his sleeve, tugging lightly. "Hey. Look at me."

  Ezra hesitated before finally meeting her eyes.

  Julie exhaled. "I mean it. I won’t call you that. Ever."

  Ezra’s throat bobbed. He gave her a small nod, looking away again.

  Julie let the silence settle before smirking slightly. "Buuuut… you do know what it means now, right?"

  Ezra’s face scrunched up. "No, and I don’t care."

  Julie grinned. "Ohhhh, you should."

  Ezra scowled. "No, I shouldn’t."

  Julie leaned in conspiratorially. "It’s sperm, dude."

  Ezra blinked. "What?"

  "Cum. It’s another word for sperm."

  Ezra stared at her, unblinking. "No it’s not."

  Julie cackled. "Ohhh, it absolutely is."

  Ezra sputtered. "What the f—?!" He immediately scrambled away from her, wiping aggressively at his upper lip as if trying to erase something cursed. "WHAT THE HELL?!"

  Julie was dying, clutching her stomach. "Oh my God, Ezra, rex—"

  "THOSE SICK FREAKS!!" Ezra yelped, still frantically rubbing at his face. "WHO SAYS THAT?! WHO THE HELL CALLS SOMEONE THAT?! WHO HURT HIM?!*"

  Julie wheezed. "Oh my God, I love you so much right now—"

  Ezra gagged, gripping his head like he had just learned the darkest secret of humanity. "What the fuck is wrong with them?!"

  "Middle schoolers are awful, dude," Julie giggled. "Absolutely unhinged."

  Ezra groaned, burying his face in his hands. "This is so much worse than I thought."

  Julie nudged him pyfully. "Hey, at least you’re in the know now. Knowledge is power, buddy."

  Ezra let out a long, pained sigh. "I want to go back to not knowing things."

  Julie grinned, resting her chin in her palm. "Too te now. You’re corrupted forever."

  Ezra gred at her through his fingers.

  Julie just winked.

  After Ezra recovered from his existential crisis, they sat in silence for a while, watching the wind kick up little spirals of dust in the parking lot.

  Then, Julie spoke.

  "Hey."

  Ezra gnced at her.

  "You know they’re wrong, right?"

  Ezra looked away. "Doesn’t feel like it."

  "They are." Julie nudged him lightly. "You’re smart. You’re funny. And you’re a good person, Ezra. You’re not whatever garbage they say you are."

  Ezra chewed the inside of his cheek.

  Julie exhaled through her nose, leaning against him slightly. "Look, I can’t punch every single dumbass in school, but I can promise you one thing."

  Ezra gnced at her again.

  "They can say whatever they want. But as long as I’m around, you’ll never have to deal with it alone."

  Ezra’s breath hitched slightly. He swallowed hard.

  Then, slowly—hesitantly—he leaned back against her.

  Julie didn’t say anything else. She didn’t need to.

  She just sat there, warm and solid, and for the first time in weeks, Ezra didn’t feel so damn alone.