She Called Me Hers'

Friday hit like lightning.

The quad buzzed before the bell even rang. Teachers acted like they didn't see the speaker setup. The principal pretended he hadn't noticed Juno bribing the DJ kid with energy drinks and fake compliments.

But everyone felt it.

Something was coming.

Skye wore fishnet sleeves and black lipstick that made her eyes pop like warning lights. Leah's jacket had patches sewn on from bands no one had ever heard of, and her boots hit the pavement like war drums. Juno? Full leather skirt, bold red eyeliner, and a look in her eyes that promised sin.

And me?

I wore his colors.

Black. Silver. And a red ribbon tied around my neck like a noose I wore by choice.

Lucien's colors. Lucien's silence. Lucien's shadow.

The music blasted through lunch, a pulsing heartbeat under the sky. Students danced. Phones came out. Every move we made had an audience, and I made sure every second was something to remember.

I leaned against the rail by the stairs, one leg bent, fingers toying with the hem of my skirt. Leah and Skye flanked me like bodyguards. Juno was already dancing in the middle of the crowd, hips swaying like she owned the beat.

I scanned the yard.

No Lucien.

Not yet.

But Vanessa was here.

Of course she was.

She wore black too.

A pathetic attempt at imitation lace gloves, silver earrings, and dark lipstick that clashed with her orange foundation.

She strutted by with her usual crew, laughing too loud, flipping her hair like she hadn't just been wrecked three days ago.

"She copied your outfit," Leah said.

"Didn't even do it right," Skye added.

"She wants him to notice her," I muttered. "Too bad she doesn't realize he sees through people like her."

Vanessa glanced our way.

I smiled.

She looked away first.

Another win.

It was halfway through the second song when I saw him.

Lucien.

He wasn't dancing. He wasn't smiling. He wasn't even trying to hide.

He stood by the fence near the back entrance, arms folded, all black again hoodie this time, silver chain just barely visible under the collar.

Watching.

Always watching.

But his eyes weren't cold today.

They were unreadable. Distant.

Like he wasn't really here.

Like something in him had already left.

I stepped off the steps.

Skye called out, "Aria?"

But I didn't stop.

I crossed the quad. Between dancers. Through laughter. Under the beat that should've made my heart race.

It didn't.

Lucien didn't move.

Not until I was in front of him.

"Glad you showed up," I said. "I was beginning to think you were scared."

"Of what?" he asked.

"Of me."

He didn't blink. "No. I'm just tired of pretending this matters."

That one stung.

I tilted my head. "You mean me? Or this?"

He looked around. "All of it. You. Them. This school. The noise."

I narrowed my eyes. "You're doing it again."

"What?"

"Pushing me away with pretty words. You think being cold makes you noble? That acting like a ghost means you'll hurt less when you disappear?"

Lucien looked at me then. Really looked.

And his voice came low. Flat.

"I told you not to chase me."

"I don't take orders."

"Then take a warning."

I stepped closer. "I'm not scared of you."

"You should be."

My hands curled into fists. "Why? Because you're leaving? Because something broke you and now you think you're poison?"

He flinched.

Just barely.

But I saw it.

His voice cracked. "You'll thank me one day."

"I'd rather hate you now."

We stood there. Quiet. Electric.

I wanted to scream.

Instead, I leaned in and whispered, "You're still mine. Even if you vanish."

He said nothing.

Did nothing.

I turned away before I showed the way my throat burned.

Back near the steps, the girls surrounded me.

"What'd he say?" Juno asked.

I shook my head. "Nothing worth repeating."

"Want us to start a rumor?" Skye asked.

"No," I said. "He's not worth that much noise. Not yet."

But later, when I was alone in the bathroom, I stared at myself in the mirror.

And whispered, "Why does it feel like he's already gone?"

Lucien's POV

The house was silent again.

Too clean. Too cold. Too big for one person.

Lucien dumped his bag by the door, kicked off his shoes, and trudged up the stairs, not bothering to turn on the lights.

He found his father in the home office, standing near the wide windows overlooking the driveway. Two large suitcases sat beside him.

"You're leaving tonight?" Lucien asked.

His father didn't turn. "Your mother and I have a flight in two hours."

Of course. They always left without notice. Never asked. Never cared.

"Didn't realize you were even here this week," Lucien muttered.

"Spare me the dramatics."

Finally, his father turned, holding a sleek black folder in his hand. He extended it.

Lucien didn't move.

"What's this?"

"Graduation packet. Enlistment details. Training start dates. Uniform instructions."

"I haven't agreed to this."

"You don't have to agree. You just have to follow through."

Lucien's hands curled at his sides. "You think the army will fix me? Make me one of you?"

His father's jaw tightened. "I think it's the only thing that might break you out of this useless phase."

"This isn't a phase."

"It's weakness."

Lucien's chest burned.

"You're a Gray," his father said. "You don't get to choose who you are. You inherit it. You wear it. You carry it forward."

Lucien took the folder slowly. Heavy. Cold. Final.

"Make sure you're ready," his father added. "I don't have time to clean up your messes."

Lucien watched him leave.

No goodbye. No apology.

Just another shadow walking out of his life.

Later, in his room, he stared at the folder but didn't open it.

He opened his phone instead.

Aria's story was still there.

Laughing. Spinning.

Bright.

Alive.

Everything he wasn't allowed to be.

He set the phone down. Face-down.

But the image burned behind his eyes.

And it stayed , unable to erase no matter how hard he tried.