CHAPTER 43: THE HATE THAT SPARKS LOUDER

Lucien sat at his desk, the dim afternoon sunlight slanting across stacks of books, loose equations, and the tablet that had been demanding his attention for the last hour.

He exhaled slowly, rubbing at the tension in his brow before lifting the tablet again. The tournament replay loaded on the screen, the image freezing on a rider in the unmistakable prey jacket, glossy black, marked with the crimson stripe assigned to low-ranked participants.

But this one...

This one bothered him.

Ever since they crossed path before , something stirred inside of him

Lucien replayed a segment for the fourth time. The stranger darted past Bulldozer, one of the most aggressive predators, slipping by unnoticed as if he were invisible.

"How is that even possible...?" Lucien murmured, leaning closer. Any normal prey would’ve been tackled within seconds, dragged out screaming in front of the crowd. But this rider moved with calculation, precision... almost elegance. Not normal. Not random. Not inexperienced.

His instincts ticked like a warning bell.

He dragged his fingers through his hair and set the tablet down, forcing his attention on the open book in front of him, dense with calculus problems. He picked up his pen, scribbling out a solution. But his mind refused to stay there. It kept drifting back... not to the match, not to the mysterious rider.

But to Hunter.

Specifically:

Hunter pushing him against the wall.

Hunter’s breath hot against his neck.

Hunter’s grip tight.

And Lucien’s own hands... clutching his shirt... pulling him closer...

Lucien froze, pen hovering. Heat surged up the back of his neck.

He tried to push that memories aside , but the memories parked louder than anything else

He shook his head sharply.

"Snap out of it. Both of you were intoxicated," he muttered under his breath. "It was nothing. A chemical moment. That’s all." He stood silent for a while , but he knew it wasn’t about them being drunk , it was far more than that

He forced his eyes back to the numbers.

SLAM!

Lucien jolted upright as a heavy pile of books crashed onto his desk.

He looked up—

And blinked.

"Mason...?"

Mason stood hunched over the table, hair sticking up in tired spikes, dark circles dragging his eyes downward. His shirt was wrinkled, his posture pained, and the way he tried lowering himself into the chair beside Lucien made him look like a man twice his age.

"You alright?

" Lucien asked cautiously.

Mason let out a deadpan, soul-drained laugh.

"Never been better."

He winced as he sat, lowering himself inch by inch with the care of someone nursing an injury. Lucien raised an eyebrow, he’d seen Mason come to class hungover, bruised from sparring, even nursing a dislocated shoulder once. He had never seen him move like this.

Before Lucien could ask again, the door swung open.

Ethan walked in.

The moment Mason heard his footsteps, his entire body went rigid. Lucien noticed it instantly, the stiffness in Mason’s shoulders, the way he avoided eye contact, the faint flush creeping up his neck.

"thats weird" Lucien mumbles

Ethan paused, looked between them, then headed toward his seat as if nothing were unusual.

But the tension sharpened around Mason like a drawn knife.

Lucien slowly looked from Mason to Ethan and back.

"Did I... miss something here?" he wondered silently.

Mason let out a long, suffering sigh and dropped his forehead onto the table.

"You," he mumbled into the wood, voice muffled and accusing, "after throwing me out like that, you didn’t even bother to check up on me, dumbass..."

Lucien stiffened, eyes widening slightly.

Throwing him out? What the heck is he saying

Mason continued grumbling, almost whining.

"Now my ass is all wrecked up because of you..."

Lucien blinked once. Twice. He tried to translate the mumble.

"...If you’re sick," he finally said cautiously, "you could just go to the clinic."

And with that, he calmly returned to solving his equation—

completely missing the way Ethan glared at Mason with hate and Mason slammed a hand on the desk in exasperation.

The lesson ended with the usual scraping of chairs and scattered chatter, but Lucien was still lost in his notes, trying to pretend Mason’s earlier whining wasn’t echoing in his mind.

He packed his books neatly, adjusting the strap on his bag—

until a shadow fell across his desk.

He looked up.

Ethan.

Standing directly in front of him.

Expression unreadable.

Posture stiff.

And completely, completely, ignoring Mason, who sat only one desk away.

Ethan reached into his bag, pulled out a slim, neatly clipped file, and placed it on Lucien’s desk with a soft thud.

"This is for the presentation we were assigned," Ethan said evenly. "I managed to do the research."

Lucien stared.

"...You... did this?"

His voice cracked in genuine disbelief.

He opened the file and flipped through the pages.

Organized headings.

Bullet points.

Referenced citations.

Charts.

Lucien’s brows drew together.

This wasn’t half-done, last-minute work. This was good, better than he expected. Better than Ethan had ever done.

When they were still together, Lucien did everything.

Ethan barely contributed, always finding an excuse, always leaving it to him, until Lucien got tired of begging for effort that never came.

So seeing Ethan not only participate... but actually take initiative...

Lucien couldn’t hide the surprise in his face.

"Oh—thanks," he said quietly.

Ethan didn’t leave.

He just... stared at Lucien for a moment longer than necessary.

Then—

"So... when are we meeting to discuss our work?

"

Lucien blinked.

That wasn’t a tone of academic cooperation.

It sounded... hopeful. Intentional. Almost like Ethan wanted to spend time with him again.

"Huh?" Lucien blurted.

At the next desk, Mason froze.

His head jerked up.

Meeting?

Ethan wants to spend time... with Lucien?

His chest tightened painfully.

His throat burned.

Something hot and ugly twisted inside him.

"Why..." he whispered under his breath.

Lucien didn’t notice, he was still staring at the file in confusion.

But Mason—

Mason stood up so abruptly his chair screeched across the floor.

His eyes glistened as he turned away, jaw clenched.

Without a word, he bolted out of the room.

He didn’t stop until he reached the bathroom.

The moment the door closed, his breath broke.

He gripped the sink, shoulders trembling.

"Why... why does it have to be Lucien every time...?" he choked, voice cracking as tears spilled hot and fast.

His reflection blurred.

"Why won’t you look at me? Notice me?"

The ache in his chest throbbed deeper, harsher.

He slammed a fist against the counter.

"I’m willing to give you everything Lucien can’t—why is it never enough?!"

More tears fell, stinging his eyes.

Bitterness curled in his throat like poison.

His expression hardened.

"No," he whispered, voice shaking but dangerous. "No... I’ll make sure you regret what you did to me. All of you."

The bathroom light flickered above him as Mason wiped his face

the beginnings of something dark settling in his gaze.