Chapter 003 Pain, Pain, Fly Away
A private dining room on the third floor of The Aurelia.
Chloe wore a designer couture summer gown, seated at the head table, basking in compliments with a radiant smile.
"Clo, you look absolutely stunning today."
"My idol wore this exact dress. It retailed for almost ten grand."
"What? That dress costs more than my living expenses for years."
Classmates crowded around, chattering about Chloe's outfit.
More than a few boys couldn't take their eyes off her.
Chloe was still a student, but she'd modeled over the summer, and a short clip the photographer posted had gone viral.
Her clean, girl-next-door look had pulled in a massive following. She'd started her own account right after, and in two months, she'd hit three hundred thousand TikTok followers — a campus celebrity.
Chloe had gotten her hair done before coming — playful space buns with a few loose strands framing her face. She stuck out her tongue. "Oh, this? My mom picked it out for me. She loves buying me pretty dresses, so I honestly don't even know how much it cost."
Chloe's mother, elegant in a silk sheath dress, pinched her daughter's cheek. "You're Mommy's treasure. Of course I'll dress you up beautifully."
"Clo, you're basically a princess."
"Right? Gorgeous, top of the class, rich family, hundreds of thousands of TikTok followers, and parents who worship the ground you walk on. What else would you call that?"
Chloe's cheeks flushed pink. "Okay, stop. I invited you all here to eat cake and have fun."
Her best friend Mia jumped in: "Clo had a custom ten-tier cake made. The filling is fruit flown in from abroad. You have to try it."
"Our It Girl's too humble," a guy from the next table shouted.
The words "It Girl" sent two spots of pink blooming across Chloe's cheeks. She shot the boy a playful glare. "What It Girl? Don't call me that."
The door swung open.
Everyone froze. Turned to look.
It wasn't a waiter. It was a boy with golden hair.
Tall and lean, in a loose white tee with the front of his hair slightly long, a silver chain around his neck.
His bone structure was unfair — devastatingly beautiful, the kind that made people forget what they were saying. Especially his eyes: deep, soft, naturally seductive, the corners brimming with something that looked like tenderness.
But the look in those eyes was sharp, dangerous. The kind of guy who started fights.
The room went dead silent.
Chloe's expression soured.
A boy stammered: "Leo... What's Leo doing here?"
It wasn't cowardice — that was just the effect Leo had on everyone at Lincoln High.
Leo had transferred to Lincoln High at the end of freshman fall semester. He was so good-looking that girls would crowd outside his classroom just to catch a glimpse.
He couldn't have cared less — like he was used to girls throwing themselves at him and getting nothing but his cold.
He'd arrived loud and lone-wolf, so naturally the school's resident thugs took it personally. They planned to corner him in an alley and teach him a lesson.
Leo beat all of them senseless. By himself.
According to a detailed play-by-play posted online:
That afternoon, Leo had a lollipop in his mouth, his uniform jacket dusted with dirt and blood. He shook it out one-handed, not a drop of sweat on his pale face.
"Boring."
He dropped the word and walked away.
The scene was so effortlessly cool that Leo became Lincoln High's new reigning king. He had his share of fangirls.
Six months in, everyone realized: sure, he was cool. Sure, he was gorgeous. But his temper was lethal — the kind of guy who might hit a girl and not think twice.
Especially after the rumor spread that he'd hit a teacher. His reputation as a psycho only grew.
"Leo." Chloe bit her lip, speaking first. "I didn't invite you to my birthday party. Showing up uninvited is rude."
Leo stopped.
Under the awed stares of her classmates, a flash of defiance crossed Chloe's face. "Leo. Leave. Now."
Leo looked at her for a few seconds. Then he nodded. "Fine."
The door closed again.
Mia whispered carefully, "Clo... do you think Leo has a crush on you? He definitely listens to you."
"Seriously! If anyone else had talked to him like that, he would've slapped them across the face."
"Stop it." Chloe bit her lip again. "I'm focused on school right now. I... I don't know what he's thinking. He does come find me a lot."
Mia said, "He definitely likes you. I mean — look at our Clo."
-
Outside, Leo ground his teeth and pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket.
He'd just put one between his lips when a passing waiter hurried over. "I'm sorry, sir. No smoking inside."
"My bad."
Leo kept the unlit cigarette between his teeth and walked out.
His crew was waiting outside, practically dying of anticipation. Their hair was a rainbow — red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet — and passersby gave the pack of delinquents a wide berth.
"Lee." The lead guy rushed forward. "How come you're out so fast?"
The wind caught Leo's hair. He lit the cigarette, face dark, frustration gnawing at him. "She won't let me in."
"Why not? How come she won't let you in?"
"The It Girl took your birthday gift, didn't she?"
"Exactly! She took the gift but won't even let you into the party?"
Just then, a cab pulled up.
Leo didn't even glance at it. He rolled the filter between his teeth, canine catching and releasing — not really smoking, just burning off anger. "No idea."
Luna stepped out of the cab and spotted her idiot brother among a flock of parrots — her ridiculous, hopelessly lovesick fool of a brother.
Amid the rainbow of dyed hair, Leo's natural gold actually looked expensive.
Luna and Leo had never been close.
When Leo was little, he'd been cute — mischievous but sweet-talking, always trailing after Luna like a puppy.
Then middle school happened. Leo grew withdrawn. Luna threw herself entirely into chasing Hayes. A family of four, each living in their own world.
In her last life, when the police called, all that was left of Leo was a small urn of ashes.
He hadn't owned much. She'd spent hours searching that ratty cramped studio of his — a few cheap shirts, and then, a backpack.
Inside was a family photo — the four of them staring at the camera with matching blank expressions, like a catalog of inherited dysfunction.
And a small Power Ranger keychain.
Luna had won it from a claw machine when she was seven — her very first try.
She had no interest in Power Rangers, so she'd given it to Leo.
In elementary school, Leo had loved it. Always kept it dangling from his backpack.
Somewhere along the way — Luna couldn't remember which year — Leo stopped hanging anything on his backpack.
She hadn't asked. Figured he'd lost it.
She'd never imagined he'd kept it. Perfectly intact. For over a decade.
The studio was barely a room. Paint peeling off the walls, space for nothing but a twin bed and a small table.
A half-empty water bottle sat on the table.
Luna clutched the backpack to her chest and sobbed until her ribs ached.
Through the wall, a young couple was screaming at each other. Outside, kids walked by. In all that noise, her tears soaked through the backpack.
The Power Ranger keychain was clenched tight in her fist.
Her palm throbbed — the same kind of sting as the year she was five, when she'd fallen and scraped her hand raw.
But that year, Leo had come running. Pulled her up. Blew on her scraped palm with his baby breath. "Pain, pain, fly away."
This time, no one was coming.