Chapter 43 Aslan
Aslan
I had promised myself I would stay away from him.
Not in some dramatic, heartbroken way. Not in the way James teased me about. But in the practical, necessary way. The way you stay away from something that spikes your heart rate and wrecks your breathing.
Garrett was the opposite of well-being.
For my health. For my sanity. I needed distance. And yet—
The moment I saw his hands begin to shake in that office, something inside me shifted.
Most people wouldn’t have noticed it. The trembling wasn’t obvious. Just the slight tightening of his fingers, the way his sleeve twitched when he tried to steady himself. The faint sheen of sweat near his temple. The subtle change in his breathing.
But I noticed because I knew those signs. I had seen them in the mirror… The tightening chest. The pulse too loud in your ears. The air thinning without reason.
When that man stepped forward, so goddamn calm that it was eerie, and asked in that soft, almost patient voice whether there was any particular reason Garrett had been targeting me, I stopped listening to him and looked at Garrett instead. That was when I saw it. He was not angry. He was not defensive. He looked scared. Like really freaked out.
Our eyes crossed for a second, and I saw the way he looked at me, kinda begging me without words to help him.
And something else underneath it. The same twisted conflict I’d seen every time we got too close. Every time something real slipped out between us, and he panicked and shoved it back down like it was dangerous.
I didn’t really get what was going on in that room, and honestly, I didn’t give a shit about their politics or whatever game they thought they were playing.
All I knew was that Garrett wasn’t okay, and there was some feral, delusional part of me that needed to protect him.
That’s when I decided to talk. It just came out. I figured if they called it bullying, it would turn into reports and investigations. If they called it prejudice, it would turn into something bigger. If they started digging, they’d start asking questions neither of us was ready for.
But girls?
Girls were simple. Girls made sense.
“He stole my girlfriend.”
Which wasn’t even completely a lie. She was my friend, and he had taken that—just saying—and somehow, that was enough.
The tension eased. The adults shifted gears. The whole thing tilted into something manageable, and the problem became teenage drama instead of something dangerous.
For now.
I couldn’t make sense of it, but when I finally looked at him and saw the relief—the way his shoulders relaxed and his eyes closed—even if for a split second, I knew I had hit the right note.
That last glance we exchanged said more than anything either of us could have spoken. Even if we never talked again—which would be the sensible thing…. Even if I kept my distance, like I was supposed to.
I knew one thing now.
Garrett was hurting, and some part of me—stupid or stubborn—wanted to save him.
The rest of the day passed in a blur. I rested in my room as instructed, ignored James’ constant texts and curiosity for a few hours, and forced myself to drink more water than I thought humanly possible.
By evening, I had rehearsal with Aitor. The recital was close now. Too close to slack off, so I couldn’t miss it. I didn’t want to. I was looking forward to seeing him, to breathing in some of that peace he always gave me.
Funny how goddamn different they were—light and shadow. The calm to my storm.
Aitor was already in the music room when I arrived, violin resting against his shoulder.
He looked up the second I stepped in. “How are you?”
“Alive,” I said lightly.
He didn’t smile.
“I wanted to go to the hospital,” he admitted. “They wouldn’t let me.”
“I know.”
“I had no idea,” he continued quietly. “If I’d known you weren’t feeling well—”
“It wasn’t your fault,” I cut in gently. “It was nothing. A few levels dipped, and I fainted. That’s it.”
He studied me like he didn’t entirely buy the simplicity of that explanation.
“And the meeting?” he asked.
“I guess we handled it.”
“No trouble?” The sliver of concern I saw in him was the same I kept seeing, as if there was something I should know, but I was totally blind to.
“None.”
He stepped closer then, placing a hand carefully on my shoulder. His big eyes suddenly so intense and so serious, as if he was about to tell me something huge.
“I know our situation is… complicated,” he said. “And I know my heart is divided in ways that aren’t really fair. But I really care for you. And I wanna be there for you.”
I met his eyes as he drew closer.
“I mean it, Aslan,” he added. “Whatever this is. I’m here.”
I inhaled slowly.
“I know,” I said. “And I’m grateful. Really.”
He nodded once and hesitated for a second, barely an inch away from my face, before slowly stepping back.
Then we began.
Music had always done what words couldn’t.
By the second piece, I felt it—my voice lifting, threading through the air, weaving around the sound of his violin. The notes weren’t forced tonight. They weren’t restrained.
They were honest.
Every frustration. Every fear. Every unspoken thought tangled itself into the melody until it stopped being heavy and started being a release.
Aitor matched me note for note, bow gliding, expression focused, breath syncing with mine as he moved closer. He circled around me, lost in the sounds and emotions, until I suddenly felt his back leaning against mine, the vibrations of the violin connecting with his heartbeat and mine.
By the time the last note faded into silence, we were both slightly breathless. Not from exhaustion, but from feeling so much and so strong...
For a moment, neither of us moved.
The recital was going to be flawless. I could feel it, and so could he.
Rehearsal ended, and we sat for a while in a soothing silence, having a tea. It was nice. It was always nice and easy with him, and my body felt steadier than it had all day.
Music had done what it always did—pulled me back into myself.
When I got to my room, James was already sprawled across my bed like he owned it.
“Dude! I messaged you! How did everything go?” He literally sprang up to interrogate me.
“Sorry, I tried resting after the meeting and then went to rehearse.” I shrugged.
“Well?” he asked dramatically. “Did you sing like a tortured angel tonight?”
I dropped my bag onto the desk. “Oh, yeah, I was flawless, obviously.”
“Good. We love growth.”
He studied me for a moment. “Did you guys happen to see Garrett?”
“Garret? No, he doesn’t show up when we are rehearsing. Why?” I asked, my heart beating faster.
He sat up, expression shifting. “He just didn’t show up to any other classes after that meeting.”
My stomach tightened. “What?”
“No one’s seen him since he left the building.”
“Well,” I said slowly. “The meeting was actually weird. His mom showed up with some creepy dude… Do you know anything about his family?”
James hesitated.
“What?” I asked.
He leaned back against the headboard. “I know more about Garrett than most people here. Not because he told me. Because I was around before… everything.”
“Everything?” I echoed.
“His mother is… intense,” James said carefully. “Obsessive in a way that isn’t normal. After she found out we were friends, he disappeared. For over a year.”
I frowned. “What do you mean disappeared?”
“Homeschooled. No warning. Just gone. Nobody really knows what happened during that time.”
My chest felt tight again—not physically. Something else.
“When he came back,” James continued, “he wasn’t the same. He doesn’t get close to anyone anymore. The hatred thing with you? That’s the closest he’s gotten to anyone here besides the Constellations. Besides Aitor.”
He shrugged lightly. “But it’s probably better you don’t get tangled in that.”
Better.
Right. Like that ship hadn’t already sailed…
Later that night, after forcing myself to start on homework, I realized I’d left two textbooks in Aitor’s studio. It was late, but not that late. The campus had settled into its usual evening hush, the kind that made every footstep sound louder than it should.
I grabbed my key card—one of the only three that opened the studio—and headed across the courtyard. The air was colder now, sharp against my lungs. When I reached the door and lifted the card to the scanner, something caught my eye. A thin, dark streak trailed down the white paint near the handle.
I frowned and leaned closer. It wasn’t dirt.
It was blood.