Mirror Crown
The next morning hit Xavier like a slap across the face.
He had barely slept—his mind running wild with the awkwardness of the dinner, the proposal, her reaction, and the growing weight of the double life he was now tangled in. The morning sun was barely peeking through the heavy curtains when the loud knock came on his door.
"Sir, the car is ready to take you to school," a voice said from the hallway.
Xavier groaned, sitting up groggily in the oversized bed that felt more like a royal throne than something meant for actual sleep. His limbs ached with exhaustion and nerves. School again... pretending again.
He quickly showered and dressed in the clothes laid out for him—sleek designer wear Christian probably wore effortlessly but felt foreign and awkward on Xavier's frame. He looked at himself in the mirror and saw a stranger wearing confidence like a badly-fitted costume.
The ride to school was quiet. He barely exchanged words with the driver. The windows were tinted, the world outside passing in a blur, but inside the car, everything felt like slow motion.
What if someone calls me by a name I don't know? What if there's a quiz? What if that girl from yesterday shows up again?
He had no answers. Just dread.
When the car finally stopped, he stepped out into a world he didn't belong in—again. The campus was lively, buzzing with students who waved at him like they'd known him for years.
"Yo, Chris!"
"Classic's back!"
"You missed that debate yesterday, man, we lost without you!"
Xavier forced smiles, nodded vaguely, and gave awkward finger-guns as if he knew what they were talking about. Deep down, he was praying nobody asked him anything too specific.
As he reached the main hallway, he was ambushed—again.
A girl, radiant and confident, walked up to him with a smirk. The same one from the previous day. "Morning, babe," she said, sliding her hand into his. "Hope you're feeling better than yesterday. You were acting... off."
Xavier's heart skipped. He gave a weak laugh. "Yeah, just... lack of sleep."
She raised an eyebrow but didn't press it. Instead, she leaned closer and whispered, "Good thing you've got me. You always said I'm your calm."
Sure I did, Xavier thought. Sure Christian did.
Classes were even worse.
He sat in his usual—well, Christian's usual—seat, surrounded by students who clearly knew him too well. Professors greeted him by name. One even asked him to explain a point from the last class. Xavier fumbled, grasped for straws, and somehow mumbled his way through enough buzzwords that the professor nodded and moved on.
But he felt the stares. He heard the whispers.
"Something's up with Chris..."
"He's not himself."
"Maybe he hit his head during vacation."
Xavier wanted to disappear. To scream. To run. But he couldn't.
He was in it now.
Every moment was survival. Every second, a guessing game. He didn't know how long this could last or when it would all crash down around him.
By the time the bell rang for the last period, he didn't feel relief—just a creeping anxiety.
Because Chris was supposed to have a meeting after school.
And Xavier didn't even know where the meeting room was.