JAY'S POV:
I sat in class, sucking on my lollipop—its sticky sweetness the only thing filling my growling stomach, a pathetic stand-in for real food.
The bell rang, sharp and insistent, and they filed in like shadows slipping into their seats.
My eyes locked on Felix right away, clocking him in the crowd.He started to pass by, but I called out flatly,
"Felix!"
He turned, eyebrow arched.
"What?"
I shoved my phone at him, screen glowing under the fluorescent lights
"Save Ci-N's number."
My voice came out steadier than I felt—Ci-N's empty seat still gnawed at me from across the room. He nodded, fingers flying across the keys with easy confidence.
"Save yours too."
He glanced up with that cocky grin splitting his face.
"Why? Do you like me?"
His eyes sparkled, teasing, like he lived for these little jabs.I frowned.
"Tss. You're too full of yourself."
"Okay, okay. Just kidding."
He finished and handed it back, but paused before walking off, like he couldn't resist one last jab. Leaning in, he whispered, voice low like we were sharing state secrets,
"Do you like Yuri?"
"What?" I snapped, my lollipop nearly cracking under the bite of my molars.
"You gave him your lunch. Just thought..." He said, grinning.
I smiled slow, sweet as poison, and gestured him to come close—crooking my finger like I was about to spill the juiciest tea. He leaned in slow, eyes wide with fake caution, breath held. I posed like I was telling him a secret,... and suddenly—whack—my palm smacked the back of his head clean and crisp, the thud cutting short through the pre-class drone.
"Owww!". He groaned loud, staggering back a step, one hand flying up to rub the spot, face scrunched in betrayed pain.
"You idiot. You're overthinking too much." I shot the words like bullets, crossing my arms, lollipop back between my lips to hide my smirk.
"Okay, okay, fine... I'm sorry."
He headed to his seat, still rubbing his head, shoulders slumped in defeat, the grin wiped clean.
I texted Ci-N quick, thumb hovering before hitting send, hoping for that instant buzz of a reply to ease the knot in my gut.
To: Ci-N
Jay-jay here... Why didn't you come to class?
I stared at the screen. Nothing. Screen dead and mocking. Maybe he was crashed out, recovering from whatever sidelined him.
I pocketed my phone as our teacher strode in, heels striking sharp, authority, Yuri ghosting her trail—silent, scan sweeping flat, grazing me neutral as fog. He walked past me.
Tss. Not even a thank you. Snake!
Honestly, I was thrilled underneath—Section E was starting to claim me as one of theirs, rough and real. They literally wanted to eat with me today.
Progress, isn't it?
Ugh, Ci-N looped relentless in my head, worry chewing deeper with each dragging minute. What if something bad hit him?
Even through the next classes, it dug in, unshakeable.
It's not like I have feelings for him—nah, skip the mush. He's just young, too green for these streets—could've gotten jumped after walking me home last night, caught in some blindside brawl I unwittingly pulled him into.
Last period with Ms. Smith, the air thick with end-of-day boredom, still no word from him—radio silence stabbing sharper.
Her voice snapped me back from the haze, crisp and probing.
"Ms. Mariano?"
"Yes?" I straightened, pulse already picking up.
"What's your middle name?" She scanned the class record, glasses perched low, pen tapping impatient.
Oh, shit. The words lodged in my throat, room tilting.
"Fernandez."
My heart hammered wild, a drumbeat threatening to crack my ribs.
The room went dead silent, like I'd dropped a live grenade in the middle of the floor—no chatter, no shuffles, just vacuum tension. Section e exchanged glances, quick and loaded, then peeked toward the back where Kiefer sat, the air turning electric with unspoken questions.
A chill spider webbed down my spine—no breeze from the open window, just pure dread coiling cold in my veins, prickling my skin like invisible fingers.
No, no, not now. Not when it's all settling down, finally clicking into place. Fuck.
"Are you related to Michael Aries Fernandez?" she pressed, voice steady but eyes sharpening behind her glasses.
God, please—no miracles today?
"He's... my cousin,"I faltered, timbre splintering brittle, sweat slicking under the slab.
She nodded, flipping the page like it was routine dust.
Damn it. Everything was fine, but God hates easy—always spiking the wheel when you lean in.