The mirror in Zion's dorm room was cracked at the corner. He didn't even remember hitting it. His knuckles were raw, scraped red where glass had kissed skin, but he couldn't feel the sting. Not really.
All he could see—over and over—was the balcony. Kevin's hand on Mabelle's face. The way she hadn't stopped him. The way she'd let it happen.
It replayed in his head like a cruel loop, every detail sharper each time, until it didn't feel like a memory anymore but a punishment.
Zion grabbed the sink, leaning forward, his breath ragged. "You're nothing to him," he muttered at his own reflection. "You've always been nothing."
The next day, Kevin didn't hide.
He didn't slink around like someone caught in a scandal. He walked through the corridors of Goldridge like he owned them, Mabelle's name already tied to his in the whispers that spread like wildfire.
Some people smirked. Others stared with pity. A few—mostly the envious ones—looked at Kevin like he'd just claimed a throne.
Mabelle hated every second of it. She walked faster, kept her eyes down, and hissed at him when they were out of earshot.
"Do you enjoy this?" she snapped. "Being the villain?"
Kevin leaned against the wall, arms crossed, calm in a way that drove her insane. "I don't care what they say. All I care about is you. They'll get over it."
Her eyes burned. "Zion won't."
Kevin's jaw tightened at the name. "Zion's been holding onto something that was never his. He'll learn."
But Zion wasn't learning. He was unraveling.
At lunch, he sat at the far end of the table, picking at his food like it was poison. Mikey tried to bridge the gap, cracking jokes, spilling half his soda on purpose just to break the tension.
No one laughed.
Lucian, on the other hand, leaned back with a grin that made Zion's stomach twist. "It's funny," Lucian said casually, "how quick things change. Yesterday you were Goldridge's golden boy, Zion. Today? You're a meme."
Zion's fork clattered against the tray. "Shut up."
Lucian tilted his head, unbothered. "I mean, I'm just saying—Kevin played the game better. He always does."
Kevin shot Lucian a look, sharp enough to cut, but he didn't deny it.
That silence was worse than any insult.
Later, Zion cornered Kevin near the locker rooms. The halls were quiet, the hum of distant chatter muffled behind heavy doors.
"You knew," Zion said, his voice low, dangerous. "You knew how I felt about her."
Kevin didn't flinch. "I did."
Zion's chest heaved. "And you didn't care."
"I cared," Kevin said simply. "I just cared more about her. About us."
Zion's fists clenched. "Us? There's no 'us.' She's not yours."
Kevin stepped closer, his height casting a shadow over Zion. "And she's not yours either. That's the part you can't handle."
The air between them was thick, charged, seconds away from snapping. Zion shoved Kevin hard against the lockers, the clang echoing down the hall.
"Back off!" Zion growled. His voice cracked, anger tangled with grief.
Kevin's eyes narrowed. He didn't shove back—but the calm in his stare was worse than any retaliation. "Or what?"
Zion's fists shook, the urge to swing burning through him. But something stopped him. Maybe it was the thought of Mabelle, or maybe it was the terrifying realization that Kevin wouldn't hesitate to hit back.
He stepped back, chest heaving.
Kevin straightened his blazer, unbothered. "That's what I thought."
By evening, the academy buzzed with rumors of their fight, exaggerated into stories about blood and broken bones. None of it was true, but it didn't matter—the damage was done.
Mabelle sat on her bed, her phone lighting up with message after message. Zion begging her to talk. Kevin asking her to trust him. Mikey pleading for her to fix things before they all exploded.
She wanted to scream. She wanted to throw her phone across the room.
Instead, she buried her face in her hands.
Zion didn't sleep that night.
He sat by the cracked mirror again, staring at his reflection until it blurred. His thoughts twisted darker, tighter, until one thing became clear.
If Kevin wouldn't back down, then Zion had only one choice left.
The next morning, Zion stood in the middle of the dining hall, his voice cutting through the buzz like a blade.
"I'm done pretending," he said loudly, his eyes locked on Kevin. "You think you've won? Fine. But I'm not sitting here like some pathetic shadow anymore. I'll show all of you exactly who I am."
The room went silent.
Zion's lips curled into something that wasn't quite a smile. "You want a villain? I'll be the villain."
And with that, he walked out, leaving behind a silence heavier than any fight could've caused.