Chapter 51
FIFTY-ONE
LUCAS
MAY. Six months later.
I stare down at my final paper and let out a long, shaky sigh of relief.
“Done,” I whisper to myself, the word tasting almost unreal on my tongue.
Around me, the exam hall is steeped in silence—just the soft scratching of pens and the occasional cough.
Every head is bowed low over their desks, faces tight with concentration.
For a moment, I just sit there, watching them, and a small, nervous laugh slips out of me.
My fingers tighten on the edge of my paper as I look back down to cross-check my answers, more out of habit than necessity.
Finally… It’s over. The spring semester has come to an end, and it’s been one hell of a ride.
I still remember walking into my first class in January, so unprepared for how brutally different Blackwood University would be from community college.
Nothing could’ve prepared me for the stress, the workload, the endless assignments, the lecturers who seemed determined to squeeze out every last drop of my sanity.
It’s been exhausting, diabolical even, but in its own strange way, it’s been worth it.
Worth it because I wasn’t completely alone. I had my Alex, steady as ever by my side, and my crazy, sweet best friend, Tyler, who somehow made the chaos bearable.
Adjusting to this school, though… God, that’s been hell.
Not starting as a fresher was already enough to make me feel like the odd one out, but the people here?
Some are insufferable. The gossip is relentless, and the whispers about me never seem to die down.
It still amazes me that some students recognized me as the guy who used to work at the café off-campus.
Yes, I worked there for two years—but to be remembered for that, of all things, feels strange.
And then there’s Alex’s family name. The Petrovs are practically carved into the walls of this school, and everyone knows it. Being tied to him, even quietly, only fuels more speculation. There’s even a ridiculous rumor floating around that I’m dating Maksim. Maksim of all people.
It’s not like I didn’t expect rumors; he’s always hovering around me, breathing down my neck.
He studies Art here, but thank God, he’s graduating soon.
Maybe then I’ll finally get some peace. I don’t hate hanging out with him; I love hanging out with Maksim.
He’s easy, familiar, safe in his own way.
But being around him often means being around his friends sometimes—those rich kids with their tailored smiles and bored arrogance.
And that… I don’t like. It’s not that I feel inferior to them, maybe the Lucas who hadn’t met Alex would have, but now…
things are different. Being with Alex changed everything.
There is nothing that I want that I do not get to have.
I have my own monthly allowance from my trust fund, I have Alex’s Amex card with my name engraved on it, and even the weekly money he still insists on giving me for our ASL lessons.
We don’t practice as much these days, but I still teach him when I can.
He pretends not to know much, but I swear, Alex already understands more sign language than he lets on.
Also, life threw me a curveball I never expected.
Months ago, I did a photoshoot for Davika’s beauty brand, just something I thought would disappear into the blur of my life.
But when the campaign dropped in March, it didn’t just land—it exploded.
It went viral, my face was everywhere online and even on the damn Times Square billboard, People seemed fascinated.
Not just because I was the only guy, but because the makeup made me look so androgynous that people couldn’t tell if I was a guy or a girl.
Somehow, that difference made me stand out.
Suddenly, I had other brands sending PR packages, and this growing world of attention at my fingertips.
There was a time I would’ve wanted this, craved it, even.
I used to dream about the beauty world, about being seen, about being a popular gay makeup artist, model, influencer…
whatever label would fit. But now, I don’t want it anymore.
I don’t want the spotlight, or the eyes, or the endless scrutiny.
The attention feels suffocating. All I do is post the PR packages I receive, because I feel like I should.
Rarely do I post myself. My personal life is mine.
I guard it like it’s oxygen. Alex isn’t a social media person; he doesn’t even have it.
If someone had told me last year that my life would look like this now, I wouldn’t have believed them. It feels like everything is moving too fast, but somehow also exactly right.
Therapy has been a part of that. I started five months ago.
At first, it was awful, like peeling back skin I didn’t want to see beneath.
But slowly, with Joanna’s patience, it’s become bearable.
She’s kind in a way that doesn’t feel pitying.
Open-minded. Steady. She’s also Maksim’s therapist, so I trusted her, but even then… letting her in wasn’t easy.
At first, I wanted Alex in every session.
I couldn’t face my own voice, my own silence without him there.
But for the past two months, I’ve been doing them alone.
Progress. Joanna says it, but more importantly, Alex says it.
He’s proud of me. That pride in his eyes, quiet but certain, has been enough to keep me steady.
And God—Alex. Just thinking of him makes my chest ache in the best way, a pull I can’t resist. The thought is enough to make me restless.
I push back my chair, hand my paper to the invigilator, and gather my things.
Without a second glance at the exam hall, I walk out and exhale, feeling lighter as the door closes behind me.
Alex, Alex, Alex… fuck, I miss him. He’s been so strict with me this exam week—no visits, no late nights, no distractions.
He said I needed to focus and study, and I listened, but God, it’s been ten whole days without touching him.
Ten whole days without seeing him feels like a lifetime.
Well, I saw him earlier this week for his thirtieth birthday, but it was just for a couple of hours.
He had told me he didn’t care about birthdays, that he wasn’t the type to celebrate them.
But I do. I care. So I baked his favorite cake, and I got him a necklace—simple, elegant, from the brand he always favors.
I wanted to do more for him, but I know Alex.
He hates excess, even though he goes above and beyond for me, he hates the idea of me spending on him.
So I kept it small, even though everything in me wanted to give him the whole world if I could.
And after those two fleeting hours at his place, and without him touching me, he drove me back to my apartment like I was some grounded teenager who’d been given just enough freedom for the night.
Tyler and I don’t live together anymore.
That’s because I had to move into this new apartment closer to school.
It’s a two–bedroom place, and from the start I begged him—over and over—to come live with me here.
It would’ve made sense; it’s closer to where he works, too, since he’s a chef at the dining hall in Blackwoods.
But he refused, every time. Said no, like it was final.
Three months after I moved out, he ended up taking a job as a live-in assistant chef for a wealthy family out in Palm Hills—the same gated community Alex’s family lives in.
Palm Hills is about forty-five, maybe fifty minutes away from the city, so now I only see him on weekends, the only days he’s not working.
And, of course, it doesn’t stop there. The family Tyler works for? They’re related to Alex’s. Did I see that coming? Yeah. I did.
I shake my head at that thought and pull out my phone, thumbs moving automatically.
Lucas: I'm done. Now let
me see you please….
I add a crying cat GIF for dramatic effect before hitting send. His reply comes instantly, and it’s a GIF of The Rock saying “finally.”
A laugh bursts out of me, earning a weird look from someone passing by.
My Alex: I still have a meeting to attend
I’ll come pick you up at your place when
I’m done. Do you want me to order food
For you right now? Are you hungry?
Lucas: It's okay. I still have one plate
Of the shrimp fried rice that you sent
Yesterday, and there is only one left
because Maksim and Igor came over
this Morning and emptied the fridge.
My Alex : Face palm GIF.
I’ll see you in a few hours
Krasivy. Drive home safe.
I’m smiling at my screen, about to reply, when I hear someone call my name. My steps falter, brows pulling together as I turn. A guy is walking toward me, his smile small, nervous, like he’s not sure if he should even be doing this. I recognize him vaguely—one of my classes, maybe two.
“Sorry,” he says when he stops a few feet away, shifting awkwardly. “I didn’t mean to yell your name like that. I just… wanted to catch up before you left.”
I stare at him, caught off guard. My mouth opens, but no sound comes out.
He’s never spoken to me before. And it’s not like I talk to anyone here anyway. A few classmates, sure—mostly the ones from my project group, but that’s about it. Not pride. Just… somewhere along the way, I forgot how to be social. Fifteen-year-old me would’ve had half the hall as friends by now.
He clears his throat. “Um… how were the exams?”
“Okay, I guess,” I manage, trying to force a smile. It comes out wrong, brittle.
“That’s good.” He nods quickly, then thrusts out his hand, like he suddenly remembered his manners.
“Sorry for being rude. My name’s Kevin. We’ve got a couple of classes together. I’m also on the swim team.”
I glance down at his hand, then back at him, before awkwardly shaking it. My brain’s scrambling. What the hell is going on?