The morning sun spilled across the Academy's training yard, Riftlight streaking the sky in jagged violet lines. Students moved with purpose—combat drills, energy manipulation, and tactical exercises filling the grounds. Today, Ren was determined to focus. He had survived two direct Outworld encounters. Today, he would push his pulse further.
Lucien was already present, shadows coiling lightly at his boots. Public Lucien: calm, untouchable, golden boy perfection. Private Lucien: the tether that anchored Ren, guiding him through the storm of energy pulsing beneath his skin.
"You're early," Ren said, trying for casual, masking the nervous flutter in his chest.
Lucien's storm-gray eyes flicked to him. "Preparedness is necessary."
Ren smirked faintly. "And here I thought you were just stalking me."
Lucien's lips twitched, shadows coiling slightly. "Hardly stalking. Observation is tactical."
Ren felt his pulse thrum faster under the tease, warmth beneath his skin responding to both Lucien and the subtle tension threading between them.
Other students had begun arriving, and whispers quickly rose. Ren noticed first—two upperclass students lingering near the edge of the yard, eyes locked on Lucien with undisguised interest.
The first, a tall girl with silver-streaked hair, leaned casually against a rail, eyes tracking Lucien as he moved. Her posture was deliberately relaxed, but every movement—every glance—was calculated.
The second, a boy with bronze hair and a sharp jawline, trailed just a step behind Lucien, offering casual smiles and helping him with minor tasks, clearly trying to insert himself into Lucien's orbit.
Ren's chest tightened. Subtle heat prickled beneath his skin—not from the training, but from awareness, jealousy, a quiet frustration he refused to show. He tightened his fingers on his staff, trying to focus on the Rift energy and not the flutter in his chest when Lucien's eyes, momentarily, flicked his way.
Why am I feeling this? he thought. They're… obvious. And he hasn't noticed. Or maybe he has. Does it even matter?
Lucien's attention returned fully to Ren as he stepped beside him. Shadows coiled protectively around the pair, a silent tether.
"Focus," Lucien murmured, voice low. "We will run through pulse control and shadow coordination. Today, you will push further."
Ren exhaled, letting the warmth beneath his skin thread into the shadows, channeling through precision rather than raw force. The Rift energy around them responded, swirling faintly, pulsing with both danger and potential.
He forced a teasing edge into his voice, despite the intensity. "So… do we get a medal for teamwork? Or is it more like 'keep your life together'?"
Lucien's storm-gray eyes flicked toward him, corner of his mouth twitching faintly. "Keep your life together," he said softly. "That is a worthy goal." Shadows tightened briefly, protective and precise.
Ren's chest throbbed. That brief flicker—private acknowledgment, always just for him—made him want to grin. He clenched his fists instead, pretending to focus on energy alignment.
Meanwhile, the silver-haired girl made her move. Leaning forward with calculated nonchalance, she called across the yard in a voice meant to carry:
"Lucien! Need a hand with your shadows?"
Lucien glanced over briefly, polite, measured. "No, thank you. I have it under control."
The boy with bronze hair added, voice laced with casual charm, "You sure? I can help coordinate. Two heads are better than one, right?"
Ren's jaw tightened. He forced his pulse to stabilize, warmth threading through the shadows, keeping them tethered. The subtle ache of jealousy gnawed at him, though he refused to let it show.
You don't get to notice, he thought sharply. Not now. Not ever.
Lucien's attention returned fully to him, storm-gray eyes locking with Ren's. Shadows curled lightly, responsive, protective, tethered. Public Lucien would have seemed calm, untouchable. Private Lucien… everything he wanted and needed in that moment.
Ren swallowed, forcing a teasing, flirty edge into his voice: "You know… if you wanted to see me, you could've just asked."
Lucien's lips twitched faintly. Shadows curled ever so slightly closer. He said nothing, and that was enough for Ren.
The drills began in earnest. Ren pushed his pulse further, guided by Lucien, mending injuries, stabilizing energy flows, and working in tandem with shadows. The two students who had shown interest in Lucien lingered nearby, whispering and casting glances, but Lucien's attention never faltered, private focus on Ren alone.
Ren felt his pulse hammering, warmth flooding through him, shadows coiling in precise harmony. The thrill of control, the closeness of Lucien, the tension between public appearance and private bond—it all surged at once.
This is dangerous, he thought, chest tight, pulse racing. And I don't care.
By the end of the session, Ren's hands were sore, his chest aching, and the residual warmth pulsed faintly beneath his skin. Lucien stepped closer, shadows receding just enough to let him breathe, his voice low:
"You handled the pulse well under observation and distraction. Few could do that."
Ren's pulse quickened, heat threading through him in a way he refused to show. "I had… good guidance," he murmured, letting a teasing edge slip.
Lucien's storm-gray eyes lingered, shadows twitching ever so slightly, acknowledgment unspoken but undeniable.
Ren swallowed hard, chest tight. I'm not letting them notice… not ever. But he—he notices me.
Above, the Rift pulsed faintly, jagged and hungry. Xylos' shadow lingered, distant but watching.
The Academy was alive with tension, rivalry, and the stirrings of something more.
And Ren? He was learning not just to control his pulse, but his feelings—and trying desperately not to let Lucien see the ones he couldn't yet voice.