As the first thin fingers of sunlight braided through the cracked pane above his bed, Lucien's lashes fluttered like something fragile trying to wake. The mattress complained under him with a long, hollow groan. He sat up, spine stiff, and for a moment stared at the ceiling as if the plaster might give him an answer. A small, stubborn ember of resolve lit behind his eyes.
"I should really get a new bed," he muttered, rubbing the sleep from his face, a useless, human thing to say when everything else was messy. He stumbled to the bathroom, splashed cold water onto his skin, and felt the last of sleep peel off him like old wallpaper. Today would be different, he told himself. Today would not be yesterday.
Outside, the city sang in a language he didn't know. Kids darted like sparks between stalls, magic crackling from their fingertips in harmless, jeweled bursts. Laughter scattered across the air. He watched the little light shows and felt something like hunger and corrosion, both. The gates of Moonlight Academy rose before him, stone teeth against the sky, familiar and indifferent. He shouldered through and walked toward the entrance.
A cluster of students had formed like a small, excited storm; voices rose and fell over each other. Curiosity tugged him in. He moved closer and the words snapped into focus.
"So it was true—"
"They're so perfect together."
"He's so handsome."
"I wish I had someone like that."
Lucien narrowed his eyes. He peeled the circle back with one slow step and then, like a punch, the sight landed.
There she was, Emma, framed by a halo of sunlight and smiles. Beside her stood Ethan White, all silver hair and sculpted jaw, eyes the exact shade of cold Arctic sea. He carried charm like a second skin; it clung to him and left girls breathless and every rumor half-believed. Ethan was the principal's son, the school's golden boy, the kind of person people built futures around. Water curled and whispered at his wrists as if eager to obey a command.
"You're looking good today, Emma," Ethan said, the words oil-smooth as he tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. His smile was casual, practiced, a thing meant to disarm.
Emma's cheeks flamed. She smiled down, small and soft, and the world tilted.
Lucien felt something inside him snap like a dry twig. Years of being looked through, of being the punchline at parties he never attended, breathed cold and mean into his chest. He clenched his fists until his nails dug crescents into his palms.
'So that's it,' he thought, teeth grinding. 'So easily replaced. So quickly forgotten.'
Then Ethan's gaze skimmed the crowd and landed on him, slow, deliberate, and unnervingly intimate. His smile narrowed into an edge.
"Oh, Lucien," Ethan called, as if summoning a stray dog. He then walked over and placed his hand on Lucien' s shoulder, as a friendly gesture I guess. "How are you, bro?"
Lucien's reply lived in the part of him that refused to beg for kindness. He kept his face a blank, obedient mask, but his fingers twitched.
"We are no friends. Do not touch me," he said, and the words were deceptively small, measured, dry. They landed like a slap.
A ripple of disbelief swept through the onlookers. Lucien rarely fought back; that was part of the design. But the design cracked.
Ethan's easy charm peeled away, exposing a colder current underneath. He stepped forward; water leaned toward his arms, gleaming like liquid armor. "Someone's got a backbone now," he said, voice threaded with mock admiration. Then the tone flattened into menace. "Arrogant bastard. Acting high and mighty."
The circle tightened, breaths drawn in, interests piqued. The air turned metallic with expectation.
"Beat him," someone hissed.
"Show him his place."
"He got left, no surprise."
Emma's face hardened. She pushed past the crowd with the practiced cruelty of someone who enjoyed the taste of victory. She spun Lucien around by his shoulder, the motion sharp enough to sting.
"Are you jealous?" she spat, each syllable a tiny shard. "Can't stand to see me with someone better? Look at you, pathetic. I made the right choice leaving you."
Lucien could feel the spit on his cheek like a tiny, hot brand. He wiped it away with a slow, deliberate swipe, the movement soft, unnervingly calm.
"Couldn't you at least learn to speak without making a mess?" he said. His voice was low, cold as late autumn water. The sentence snagged the noise; the crowd sucked in a collective breath.
Emma's face bled colors, shock, then shame, then a white-hot temper. She opened her mouth as if to answer, to retort, to lash out, but before the words could fall, Ethan stepped in front of her, the water at his arms coiling into shapes at his fingertips.
He looked at Lucien as if sizing a petty insect underfoot. "You'll regret that," Ethan said, and the air hummed in agreement. The water answered, rising like an obedient tide.
Around them, the students buzzed into a frenzy, voices melding into one hungry animal. Lucien's heart hammered a drumbeat against his ribs; his throat tasted like iron. For a moment everything slowed: the sun's dust motes hanging like a million tiny witnesses, Emma's held breath, Ethan's smirk splitting his face like a cracked moon.
Then, with a movement that was almost tender in its casualness, Lucien stepped forward, into the silence. He didn't raise his hands; he didn't plead. He simply stood and met Ethan's gaze like someone looking into a mirror and refusing to flinch.
Ethan's water tightened, a noose or a whip, it was hard to tell, and the crowd leaned in, eager for the spark that would set them all alight.
Lucien let a small, sharp smile ghost across his face. It was not a smile of joy. It was a smile that tasted of defiance.
"Try me," he said.
The words fell like a gauntlet. The first ripple of water answered, and the circle closed, world narrowing to three shapes and their truths: the golden prince, the forsaken boy, and the girl who chose like a judge who loved to ruin verdicts.
Somewhere in the crowd, someone snickered, a thin, brittle sound, and the snicker broke the hush into a roar. The night hadn't even started, and already the storm was promising to drown them all.
"Interesting..."