CHAPTER 28: THE LINES WE CROSS

The classroom buzzed with low chatter, a restless hum that filled the air before a storm. The sound was steady but uneven, rising and falling with bursts of laughter, quick whispers, and the scrape of pens against desks. It was the kind of noise that meant everyone was awake but distracted , all waiting for something to happen.

Lucien sat near the back, the cool glow of the tablet screen painting a pale light over his face. His pen twirled rhythmically between his fingers, the soft click and swish marking the tempo of his concentration. His gaze was locked on the glowing tablet before him. The tournament layout had dropped that morning, an intricate digital map of battle zones, checkpoints, and blind corners.

He zoomed in, studying every contour, every shaded alleyway, tracing invisible routes and imaginary fights with his fingertip. He murmured under his breath, his mind already several steps ahead, calculating strategies like clockwork. Each pathway mattered , every blind corner could decide victory or defeat.

He needed to know it all. This wasn’t just another round of games; this was the beginning of the championship season, everything they’d trained for, fought for, bled for in practice runs that lasted till midnight. If they wanted to win, Lucien had to know that map like the back of his hand.

His eyes flicked to one corner of the map. The new zone had tricky spawn resets ,unpredictable, deadly if misread. "If we rotate from this side," he murmured to himself, tracing a finger along the grid, "we can trap them from here." He paused, exhaled. I hope Hunter also tries to revise it, he thought, a hint of irritation brushing through his tone. Hunter never studied , he played by instinct, and sometimes that instinct scared him.

Beside him, Mason sat, elbow propped lazily on the desk, head tilted in mock boredom. But his eyes weren’t on the map. Not really. They lingered instead on Lucien. On the subtle furrow of his brow, the soft parting of his lips when he concentrated, the slight crease that appeared on his cheek when the pen touched his mouth.

Lucien didn’t notice. He was still muttering to himself, eyes following invisible lines on the glowing map. "If the spawn resets here, that means we can flank from the—"

Mason’s gaze drifted upward, to the row behind them. Ethan sat there , back straight, jaw set, phone in hand, scanning the same map with the kind of focus that could slice through air. Even the casual movement of his fingers scrolling up the screen made Mason’s chest tighten, the sound of the soft swipe like static in his brain.

He looked away quickly, forcing his eyes back to Lucien. Don’t look. Don’t think. Not now.

"So..." Mason said, his voice just loud enough to reach Lucien, slicing through the buzz of conversation. "About that night."

Lucien’s pen froze mid-spin. His expression didn’t change, but the air between them did — heavier now, tense.

"I should’ve been there," Mason continued, lowering his voice, threading it with something that sounded like regret. "If I’d known you’d go to E—" He stopped himself sharply, biting off the last syllable before it could betray him. He drew in a long, slow breath, his jaw flexing. "The point is... I should’ve had your back. I won’t let something like that happen again."

He said it softly, but his eyes gleamed with something colder ,a kind of quiet possessiveness he didn’t bother hiding. You won’t crawl back to him, he thought. Not if I can help it.

Lucien didn’t respond. His gaze stayed locked on the tablet, but his focus had dissolved, his thoughts spiraling elsewhere. The map blurred into meaningless shapes. Not like I’m going back to Ethan anyway, he told himself firmly. I’ve got enough chaos already.

Mason’s lips curved slightly, but not into a smile. You really think I’ll beg for your attention? he thought bitterly. The only reason I’m still tolerating this is because of him.

Before he could push further, the door opened. The lecturer strode in, clutching a stack of notes, the sound of his shoes echoing sharp against the tiled floor. Instantly, the classroom fell silent. Screens dimmed. Chairs straightened.

Lucien sighed softly and locked his tablet, the light vanishing from his face. He clicked the pen once against the desk, a small nervous habit, before tucking it neatly beside his notebook. I’ll revise it one more time when I get home, he decided silently.

From behind, Ethan sat motionless, posture sharp and perfectly aligned. His expression gave, .nothing away . calm, focused, professional. But every few minutes, his eyes lifted, glancing at Lucien. He couldn’t help it. The curve of Lucien’s neck, the slight tilt of his head, the way a lock of hair fell loose and brushed his cheek all of it burned quietly into his brain.

Don’t look, he told himself. His jaw tensed. You broke up. You ended it for a reason. Don’t look.

But it was impossible not to. Every breath Lucien took pulled at something inside him. He clenched his jaw, forced his gaze forward, pretending to listen to the lecture.

Across the room, Mason was unraveling. His attention had shifted from Lucien to Ethan ,always Ethan. Watching the way he sat, the way he moved, how effortlessly he carried himself. That calm confidence that Mason could never match made his stomach twist with envy and something darker.

Notice me, Mason thought, fingers tightening around his pencil until it cracked faintly. Just once. Look at me instead of him.

Lucien exhaled quietly, his eyes dropping to the notes he’d written , neat, controlled, tidy. But his thoughts refused to align. Why does it still hurt? he thought, pressing the pen harder into the page. Why does my heart feel like it’s being pulled apart from both sides?

Hunter’s smirk flashed in his mind , then Ethan’s eyes. One wild, the other calm. One chaos, the other cold. Two stupid alphas, he thought bitterly. Two stupid, impossible feelings.

The lecturer’s voice droned on, dissolving into white noise. Lucien kept his head down, pretending to write, letting the words fade into background static.

When the bell finally rang, the room erupted , the sudden roar of movement breaking the tension. Chairs scraped, papers rustled, and laughter returned. Lucien exhaled in relief, closing his notebook and sliding it into his bag with shaky hands.

"Before you go," the lecturer called, glancing at the roster, "your presentation partners have been assigned."

Lucien froze mid-motion. Great, he thought sourly. Just what I needed. His schedule was already in shambles, his mind stretched thin.

The lecturer scrolled through the projected list. "Let’s see... Mason and Claire. Jonah and Priya..." He paused, his finger hovering over the last names. "And finally, Lucien and Ethan."

Time stopped.

Lucien’s pen slipped from his fingers, clattering softly against the desk. His pulse jumped. His mouth went dry.

"What?" he breathed.

Behind him, Ethan looked up sharply.

Beside him, Mason’s hands curled into fists, veins standing out like wires under his skin. His heartbeat pounded in his ears. No. No, this can’t be happening.

The lecturer smiled, completely oblivious. "You two work well together. Your last project was one of the best in the class."

Lucien’s throat tightened. That was before. But the words stuck on his tongue.

He managed only a small nod, stiff and mechanical, pretending to be fine even as dread sank heavy in his gut.

As soon as class ended, Lucien grabbed his bag and hurried after the lecturer into the hall. "Sir—please," he called softly, "can I swap partners? It’s... complicated."

The lecturer barely looked up from his notes. "Already inputted the names into the system," he said casually. "And really, Lucien, you and Ethan make a great team. No reason you can’t again."

Lucien’s lips parted, then closed. The argument died before it began. "Right," he said quietly. "No reason."

As the lecturer walked off, Lucien slumped back against the wall, his head tipping against the cold plaster. He rubbed the back of his neck, sighing. Just my luck, he thought. Looks like I’ll be seeing more of Ethan than I ever wanted to.

Down the corridor, Mason stood half-hidden near the door. He had heard every word. The hallway light cast sharp shadows across his face, his expression dark, unreadable. His breathing came slow and tight through his teeth.

Then he saw Ethan step out of the classroom , alone.

Something inside him snapped.

He straightened and walked forward quickly, schooling his face into something soft, practiced. "Ethan," he called, his tone smooth, gentle, almost hopeful.

Ethan stopped and turned, his brows drawing together slightly. His eyes were cool. Detached. "What do you want?"

Mason’s chest tightened. That tone , indifferent, flat , it hit harder than he expected. "I—uh—I was hoping maybe we could spend some time together." He forced a small smile, voice trembling but trying to sound steady. "I’ve just been... really lonely lately."

Ethan blinked once, slow. Then again. His expression didn’t change. "Then study," he said, voice like ice. "And leave me alone."

He turned to walk away.

Desperation clawed its way up Mason’s throat. He reached out and grabbed Ethan’s wrist. "Please..."

Ethan froze instantly, muscles tensing. "Don’t touch me."

But Mason didn’t let go. His voice cracked, sharp and desperate, echoing through the hall. "I love you!"

The air went still.

Every sound in the hallway vanished.

Ethan froze mid-step. Slowly, very slowly, he turned, his face unreadable. "You what?"

Mason’s chest rose and fell rapidly. His eyes were wet, his voice trembling. He hadn’t meant to say it, not like this, not here , but it was too late now. The words were out, raw and alive between them. "I love you, Ethan. I’ve loved you for a long time." His voice wavered, breaking. "Even when you were with him."

Lucien’s name hung unspoken, but the air was thick with it.

Ethan stood still, the hallway spinning around him. Even when you were with him. The words hit hard, slicing deep, scattering everything inside him.

He looked at Mason, his gaze colder than ever. His voice, when it came, was low and precise. "Don’t ever say that again."

Mason’s eyes widened, pain flashing through them. He wanted to speak, to reach out again, but the words tangled in his throat. Please. I love you. Even if you love someone else, I’m willing to wait, he thought, but he couldn’t bring himself to say it aloud.

Ethan turned and walked away. The echo of his footsteps filled the corridor, steady, unyielding.

Mason stood frozen, breathing hard. His hands trembled. The sting of rejection burned deep, searing through him like fire. But beneath that pain, something darker began to take shape , anger, humiliation, and a cold, deliberate resolve.

You’ll see, he thought, lips curling into a bitter half-smile. You’ll both see.

Outside, the sky had darkened. Heavy clouds gathered above the campus, thick with the promise of rain. The air smelled faintly of ozone and metal, heavy and sharp.

In the dim corridor, Mason whispered under his breath, voice barely audible but laced with venom.

"Ethan... you’ll regret that."

He paused, his expression twisting, eyes darkening as the realization sank deeper. "No," he murmured, his voice almost soft. "This isn’t your fault. It’s his. Lucien."

A cruel smile crept onto his lips. "I’ll make sure you hate him forever."

Outside, thunder rolled across the sky. The first drops of rain hit the windows, trailing down in thin, silver lines.

The storm had finally begun.