He didn't sleep.
Not really.
He closed his eyes.
Turned.
Opened them again.
Replayed it.
You're Xar.
You underperform.
Goodnight, Raxian.
He stared at the ceiling until the gray of morning crept in.
By the time his alarm went off, he was already awake.
—
School corridor.
Too bright.
Too loud.
Jake clocked him immediately.
"Wow."
Rax didn't respond.
"You look like you fought a ghost."
Ava glanced at Jake calmly.
"He looks tired."
Jake shrugged. "That's what I said."
"No," Ava replied evenly. "You dramatized it."
Bruce stepped closer.
"You good?"
Raxian adjusted the strap on his bag.
"Long night."
No snap.
No irritation.
Just flat honesty.
Jake narrowed his eyes slightly.
"That didn't sound defensive."
"I'm tired," Rax repeated.
And he was.
Too tired to posture.
Too tired to deflect.
His eyes drifted down the corridor.
And landed on her.
Sable stood by her locker.
Beanie back on.
Green tie neat.
Posture straight.
Unbothered.
Like she hadn't dismantled his ego on a video call twelve hours ago.
Like she hadn't said his name like that.
She glanced up.
Their eyes met.
No awkwardness.
Just steady acknowledgment.
He looked away first.
Again.
Jake followed his line of sight.
"Oh."
That single syllable carried too much.
Rax didn't react, didn't bite, didn't tell him to drop it.
Bruce noticed that too.
"Really long night?" Bruce asked lightly.
Rax ran a hand through his hair.
"…Yeah."
He didn't elaborate.
And for once—
No one pushed.
Not even Jake.
Because something had shifted.
He wasn't spiraling, not angry, not sharp.
He was… processing.
As they walked toward class, Raxian's thoughts kept circling.
She knows.
She chose to tell me.
She said I underperform.
Not that I'm bad.
Not that I'm average.
Underperform.
That meant something.
Across the hallway—
Sable closed her locker.
Walked past them without stopping.
But just as she passed—
Quietly—
"You look exhausted."
He blinked.
"…I am."
"Good."
That made him turn.
"What?"
She didn't stop walking.
"You're thinking."
And then she was gone.
Jake stared at Rax.
"What did she just say?"
Rax exhaled slowly.
"Nothing."
But it wasn't nothing.
His pulse wasn't unstable.
It was heavy—but focused.
For the first time in weeks,
He wasn't thinking about Diamond.
He wasn't thinking about Jake.
He wasn't thinking about being watched.
He was thinking about improvement.
And that scared him more than losing ever did.