Theo's POV:
I've been so out of it lately.
Still buried under my blanket in my favorite SpongeBob pajamas, I hugged my pillow like it could save me from my own thoughts. I rolled to one side, then the other, but nothing felt right. My body was restless, my heart worse. I stopped moving and stared blankly at the ceiling, like it held answers.
"I've really done it this time," I muttered.
Isaaq was probably never going to look at me the same way again. He'd avoid me, pretend I was a stranger. Hell, maybe he already regretted ever meeting me.
I let my anger get the best of me… again.
"Shit. I really fucked up."
I closed my eyes, and—like an ache I couldn't ignore—I saw him. The way he looked at me. The softness in his eyes when he wasn't overthinking. That damn kiss.
My fingers moved to my lips, tracing them gently.
"He's such a good kisser," I whispered. "God, I miss the way he kisses me…"
I smiled bitterly.
"He held me so delicately," I murmured, barely above a breath. "Like I was something precious. Like I mattered."
I clutched the pillow closer and flipped over, burying my face into it.
"Why'd he have to be so hot," I whined, muffled, "...and stupid!"
I groaned and tossed the pillow across the room.
"I hate you!" I yelled. "I hate you I hate you I hate you I—!"
I collapsed back onto the bed, breath heavy, throat tight. Another pillow found its way into my arms. My voice cracked.
"I love you, you fucking moron."
Tears slid down my cheeks again. I wiped them angrily but they just kept coming. My pale skin flushed pink—too many emotions in too little time.
Why couldn't I stop thinking about his body? The way it felt when he held me. The warmth of his chest, the way I'd trembled under his hands. It drove me crazy.
"Am I really going to let him slip away?" I muttered.
A knock came at the door.
"Young master? Are you in there? It's 9 a.m., time for your morning classes."
"I said get lost! Do you not fucking understand what that means?!"
"Terribly sorry, sir… but your father—"
That name. Just hearing it made my stomach twist.
I shut my eyes tight, wiped my face again, and sighed.
"I don't wanna get out of bed," I whispered to no one. "It's all that idiot's fault."
Maybe… maybe I should apologize. Would he even listen? What if I promised never to do it again? What if I meant it?
Another knock. More words I didn't care about.
I wasn't listening. I couldn't.
"I'm going to take a fucking shower!"
I stood up, threw on my robe, and shuffled toward the bathroom. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror—puffy eyes, red cheeks, lips slightly swollen. I rubbed them again, thinking back to the kiss.
"It's a good thing no one gets to see this side of me," I whispered bitterly. "It'd ruin the cute and adorable reputation I worked so hard to build."
And with that, I turned away, disappearing into the steam, hoping the shower could scrub even a fraction of him off my skin—but knowing deep down, it couldn't.
---
The dumb lessons couldn't have ended any sooner.
I was physically present but mentally six planets away. I obviously wasn't paying attention to anything, but not a single professor seemed to notice—or care. They were all just here for the cash anyway. Spoon-feed the rich brat and cash the check. Whatever.
But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't shake him off my mind.
Isaaq.
His stupid perfect face. His wounded lips. The way he'd looked at me before I left. The weight of it all was crushing, and suddenly, I just couldn't sit with it anymore.
I needed to do something.
That's when I made up my mind.
I was going to him. To apologize.
I knew he went to that commoner cesspool, Silvermist High, and from the look of the clock, school would be ending soon. I got dressed in the most casual, don't-look-at-me outfit I owned. Baggy hoodie, ripped jeans, beat-up sneakers. I'd rather be caught dead at that school than show up in my usual drop-dead gorgeous self. No need to cause a scene.
I wasn't doing this for drama.
I just… I needed him to understand I was mad. Exhausted. We both were. Things had gotten out of hand. If I could just get a moment with him, maybe—just maybe—I could fix this.
I couldn't drive myself—Father was still holding every car hostage until I 'got my shit together'—and no way in hell was I letting any of the drivers see where I was going.
So yeah. Taxi it was.
A long, painful, and disgusting trip to the other side of town. Each bump on the road felt like a personal insult to my dignity.
Finally, we pulled up to Silvermist High.
And just as I stepped out of the cab, I saw him.
Isaaq.
Only he wasn't alone.
Someone was getting into his car. Some tall, smug-looking guy—long black hair, definitely taller than me. Maybe 5'11? He wasn't bad-looking either, which made me want to gouge his eyes out with a spoon. Was he the new guy Isaaq was screwing with?
The guy slid into the passenger seat like he belonged there. Dropped his bag at his feet. Said something—probably a greeting—and Isaaq just stared at him. Like an idiot. Mouth open, eyes wide. No anger. No awkward tension. Just that same dumb look he used to give me.
They talked for a moment. I couldn't hear them, but I didn't need to. I could feel it. Something familiar. Something soft.
Then it happened.
The guy reached over, grabbed Isaaq's tie, and kissed him. Just like that. No hesitation. No fear. Just straight-up kissed him.
And Isaaq? He didn't push him away. Didn't look shocked. He just sat there, letting it happen.
I nearly screamed.
My chest tightened so hard it felt like my ribs would snap. My jaw, locked. My hands trembled. I wanted to run over, rip the car door open, and drag them both out onto the asphalt. I wanted to scream, fight, just do something.
But I didn't.
I just stood there, shaking, watching the boy who used to belong to me melt under someone else's touch.
I wanted to be sick.
And worst of all—he looked happy.
Not on my watch.
I pulled out my phone, fingers flying.
Who the hell was that guy?
I wasn't going to let some tall, mysterious pretty boy slither his way into what was mine.
I needed info. Fast.
So I did what I do best—use the people Father pretends I don't know about.
One contact. That's all it took.
I pulled out my phone and scrolled until I found the guy I'd snagged from one of Father's secret contact lists. The kind of man who doesn't ask questions—just does the job.
The line rang twice.
Then picked up.
"Hello?"
"Hey," I said coolly. "Remember that kid you helped me spy on?"
"Uh… yeah?"
"I need you to find out where he's headed now. Text me the address."
"Done."
I stared back toward Isaaq's car just as the door closed and the vehicle started to drive off.
My fists clenched.
"Isaaq Almasi," I growled under my breath, "you fucking bloodhound."