Ezra didn't sleep that night.
His room was quiet, too quiet. The silence wasn't comforting—it was a cage. His mind replayed the masquerade in loops: the flicker of candlelight, Kai's eyes behind the mask, the kiss, the betrayal, the confessions flooding the room like blood in water.
He didn't cry.
But he felt hollow.
Like the truth had been scraped out of him with a silver spoon and thrown into the crowd to devour.
Across campus, Kai sat on the rooftop of the east tower, legs swinging over the edge like a child.
He clutched a cigarette between his fingers, unlit. He didn't smoke—just liked the weight of it. Like a promise he never made.
Jun appeared beside him, wrapped in a paint-splattered hoodie and an air of judgment.
"You broke him."
Kai didn't look up. "He needed to break."
"You humiliated him."
"He let me."
"You're in love with him."
Kai laughed softly. "I told him not to trust me."
Jun snorted. "And what if you're the one who trusted him first?"
That made Kai look up.
Jun's face softened. "You're terrified, Kai. You want to control everything because you've never had someone choose you without a dare in the middle."
Kai didn't deny it.
He just whispered, "He'll come back."
Jun raised an eyebrow. "What if he doesn't?"
Kai's fingers curled around the cigarette. "Then I'll make him."
Ezra didn't return to the main campus for two days.
He stayed tucked in his room, phone off, curtains drawn. Dominic came by—twice—but didn't knock. Just left a coffee outside the door with a quiet note: "I'm here."
On the third day, Ezra cracked.
Not from loneliness—but from fury.
He grabbed his phone and texted Kai.
Ezra:
Meet me. Old greenhouse. Midnight. No cameras. No audience. Just you and me.
Kai replied instantly.
Kai:
I dare you to say what you really want.
The greenhouse had been abandoned for years, its glass cracked in places, vines clawing through the floor. It smelled of wet earth, decay, and forgotten things.
Ezra was already there, sitting on a crumbling bench, the moonlight cutting across his face like shards.
Kai stepped inside, slow and careful.
Ezra didn't stand. "Close the door."
Kai did.
Ezra met his gaze with quiet fury. "Why did you do it?"
Kai didn't flinch. "Because I needed to see what you'd do."
"You could've just asked me to dance. You didn't have to strip me bare in front of everyone."
Kai stepped forward. "You hide so much behind your smile, Ezra. Behind your perfection. You walk around like you owe the world your silence."
"And you think you have the right to tear it down?"
"No," Kai said. "I think I have the right to see the real you."
Ezra stood, fists clenched. "I showed you everything. And you turned me into a dare."
Kai's voice cracked. "You were the dare. But you became more."
Ezra stepped forward, anger pulsing. "That night on the roof… you kissed me like it meant something."
"It did."
"Then why destroy it?"
"Because I destroy everything I touch," Kai snapped. "It's what I am. It's all I've ever known. I warned you."
Ezra's voice dropped. "You think I don't know what it's like to wear a mask every day? To live up to a name, a legacy, a lie?"
Kai stared at him.
Ezra's next words were a whisper. "You didn't have to play me. You could've just… asked me to stay."
For a moment, the room held its breath.
Then Kai crossed the space between them in two steps, grabbed Ezra by the waist, and kissed him.
This time, it wasn't angry.
It was desperate.
Like a dam finally breaking.
Ezra kissed back, hands knotting in Kai's shirt, mouths crashing like waves, teeth scraping skin, heat spreading like fire in dry grass.
Kai's hands slid under Ezra's shirt, and Ezra didn't stop him.
Not this time.
Because there were no safe words left.
Just two boys trying to prove they were real—by touching, tasting, burning.
They didn't make it to a bed. The floor of the greenhouse was cold, but their bodies were warm, tangled, aching, alive.
When it was over, Ezra lay on his back, chest rising and falling, sweat cooling against the glassy air.
Kai watched him with something unreadable in his eyes.
Ezra whispered, "I still hate you."
Kai kissed his shoulder. "I dare you not to."
Outside the greenhouse, hidden behind the twisted vines, someone watched with a camera.
The shutter clicked once.
Then again.
And a smirk formed behind the lens.
Back in the psychology lounge, Lena Cross sat with her notes.
She'd seen this before.
Two people drawn like magnets, doomed to crash and break.
But this time, she wasn't sure who was the storm—and who was the shore.