Chapter 83: A Trip Down...
FLASHBACK TO TEN YEARS AGO...ADRIEN’S POVThe ceiling of the basement room has three cracks that look exactly like the branching veins of a leaf.
Adrien stares up at them, his eyes wide and unblinking as he tries to trace the jagged lines in the dim, grey light filtering through the high, dirty window.
He lies perfectly still on his back, barely daring to breathe. Every small rise and fall of his chest sends a sharp, burning flare of pain straight through his ribs, reminding him of exactly why he is hiding down here in the dark.
He holds a melting ice pack against his left cheekbone. The plastic is cold. The condensation of the ice drips down his temple and pools in his ear, but he doesn’t wipe it away.
The freezing numbing sensation is the only thing keeping the steady, throbbing ache in his face from turning into a full-blown migraine.
He tries not to blink too hard. Every time his eyelashes brush together, a sharp, white-hot needle of pain shoots straight from his swollen, purple eyelid to the very back of his skull.
He’s seventeen.
He reached the milestone exactly two months ago, just a few weeks before the school year started. It should have been a milestone worth celebrating, or at least one that came with a sense of growth.
Instead, his seventeenth birthday passed in complete, suffocating silence, marked only by his stepmother Alice’s cold glares at the dinner table and his father’s utter indifference.
The only gift he received this year was a brutal reminder of his place in this house, written in dark, ugly bruises across his skin.
But as he lies on his thin, creaking mattress, a small, desperate wave of relief washes over his chest.
He’s in his second year of high school. Just one more year after this. One more year of surviving the toxic, suffocating halls of their elite academy, and he’ll finally be done.
He’ll be free of the glittering, golden cage his family locked him in. He’ll be free of the trash heap that is the Dubois family. He’ll be free of the constant, heavy, and terrifying shadow of Orion Vassilis.
He knows he can never truly wash the dirt of his family name off his skin. The Dubois name is a stain that runs deep, associated with backroom deals, cruel manipulation, and a desperate crawl for power.
But he can run.
He can disappear into the crowded streets of some faraway city where the name Dubois means absolutely nothing, where no one looks at him like he is a stray dog waiting to be kicked by whoever is passing by.
A bitter, humorless laugh catches in his throat, and the sudden movement makes him hiss as his injured ribs flare with sharp pain.
He’s at home today because he literally cannot show his face in public. The black eye his father gave him last night is too dark, too ugly, and too obvious to be covered up with the expensive concealer he stole from Louise’s vanity.
If he walked into the academy looking like this, the vultures would descend on him within seconds. They would smell the blood in the water, whispering and laughing behind their manicured hands at the disgraced Dubois son.
And the worst part of it all is, he didn’t even do anything.
Louise had gone to their father yesterday afternoon, her eyes dry and her voice dripping with that fake, fragile innocence she always uses when she wants to destroy something.
She told him that Adrien had been spreading rumors all over the academy. She claimed he was telling everyone that her relationship with Orion was a sham, a pathetic business transaction that Orion hated being a part of.
It was a blatant, disgusting lie.
Adrien hadn’t said a single word to anyone. He didn’t care enough about Louise or her precious, untouchable fiancé to talk about them.
He spent every single day at school trying to blend into the wallpaper, trying to keep his head down so Orion’s heavy, suffocating gaze wouldn’t find him.
But his father didn’t care about the truth.
To Henri Dubois, Louise is the golden child, the perfect ticket to securing the Vassilis backing and elevating their status. Adrien is just the stain on the family carpet, the useless first son who should have never been born.
Adrien shifts slightly on the bed, and a sharp wince escapes his lips as his shirt rubs against his bruised side.
He wonders how Timothy is doing right now.
Timothy is his only friend, the only person in that entire godforsaken school who doesn’t look at him like he’s trash. He wonders if Timothy is sitting in their usual spot behind the bleachers during lunch, wondering why Adrien didn’t show up today.
He wonders whether Timothy is safe or if the academy’s toxic atmosphere is slowly suffocating him too.
He wonders what Timothy would do if he found out the truth.
What would his best friend think if he knew that Orion, the very man Timothy hates more than anything in this world, the man they both swore they would see ruined one day, had cornered Adrien in the dusty dark of the sports hall janitor’s closet just two months ago?
Adrien’s breath hitches. His heart starts to hammer a frantic rhythm against his aching ribs as the memory rushes back, hot and unbidden, filling his mind until his head spins.
He can still recall the smell of that closet. It smelled of old bleach, dust, and that intoxicating, suffocating scent of wood smoke that always seems to cling to Orion’s clothes.
He remembers the heavy, solid weight of Orion’s body pinning him against the metal shelves, blocking out every single ray of light from the hallway. He remembers the way the sharp edges of the metal had dug painfully into his spine as Orion leaned down, his dark, hungry eyes burning with something so heavy it made Adrien’s lungs freeze.
And then, the kiss.
It wasn’t a gentle thing. It was bruising, desperate, and completely overwhelming. It was a chaotic clash of teeth and heat, a battle for dominance that Adrien should have fought with everything he had.
He should have bitten him. He should have clawed Orion’s eyes out. He should have screamed for help until the whole school heard him.
But he hadn’t.
Instead, he gripped the dark, expensive fabric of Orion’s school blazer, his fingers trembling, and he kissed him back. He returned the touch with a sudden, explosive passion that still makes his blood run hot with shame.
He let himself melt into the heat, his brain flatlining as Orion’s lips crushed against his, erasing every single logical thought in his head.
Adrien lets out a loud, miserable groan, burying his face in his pillow. The rough fabric scrapes painfully against his bruised cheek, but he welcomes the sting. He needs the pain.
He needs it to distract himself from his own stupidity, from the frustrating realization that he had actually wanted it.
He wanted to kiss that bastard.
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