Chapter 53 Aslan
Aslan
“I hate you.”
The words replayed in my head like a broken record. That was the last thing he’d whispered in my ear before we were separated from the crowd. I don’t even know how to explain what that did to me. It wasn’t the insult. It wasn’t even the tone. It was the way he’d said it—low, almost broken, like he was trying to convince himself more than me.
The rest of the night was a blur of noise and bad decisions. I drank more than I should have. Danced harder than I needed to. Laughed when I didn’t feel like it. Smiled until my cheeks hurt. Every song felt too loud, every light too bright, every touch too much. I kept moving because if I stopped, I knew I’d think. And if I thought, I’d break.
Nothing happened between Aitor and me after the party. It would've been a huge mistake if it did because I was not only emotional but also kinda drunk. No decisions made while you're physically and mentally fucked up are ever good.
Aitor got me home. He didn’t say much, just stayed close enough that I wouldn’t trip over my own feet. At the door, I might’ve asked him if he wanted to come in. I honestly don’t know why. I don’t even know what I expected would happen if he said yes, considering James was probably two steps behind us anyway…
He didn’t come in.
He leaned forward, and for one insane second I thought he was gonna kiss me. I probably would’ve let him. Most likely even kissed him back because, again, I was needy and confused as hell… But, instead, he pressed a soft kiss to my forehead.
I closed my eyes and just stood there, letting it sink in. The warmth. The steadiness. I almost fell asleep just standing there, leaning against him.
For better or worse, he decided to let me rest with a “we’ll talk tomorrow.”
I had no idea what that meant. Talk about what? Did he mean we’d talk about this? Did he mean talk in class like always? Or was it just one of those things you say before you leave that doesn’t actually mean anything?
I went to bed with my head spinning and my chest tight. I dreamed of running. About Garrett chasing me. About Aitor standing still in the middle of it all, watching.
In the morning, I woke up exhausted, looking like shit, and so goddamn hungover I could barely keep my head straight.
Garrett looked like hell, too. Pale. Tight around the eyes. Not looking at anyone directly. Not looking at me at all. And yet I could feel it—those stolen glances when he thought I wasn’t paying attention. The tension was still there. Heavy. Ugly.
Then she showed up, and just like that, whatever stupid doubt I’d been nursing died on the spot.
For a split second, I’d allowed myself to think maybe the “I hate you” was defense. Maybe he still wanted me. Maybe it was all fear and pride and bullshit layered over something real.
I was such a goddamn idiot.
Apparently, they’d gone back to his room. Slept together. Fixed whatever had cracked between them with the same hands that had pinned me against a wall hours earlier. And now I had to sit there and watch them make out.
James had been there to watch everything go down. He had heard me cry in bed, and now he’d turn every shade of red when he heard Trisha’s comment about last night. He just leaned closer in his seat and rested his hand on my arm.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I should’ve never encouraged you to go for him… I should’ve warned you. I knew he was messy. I just… didn’t think he’d be that fucked up.”
I huffed a humorless laugh. “Yeah. Well. Lesson learned.”
He studied my face like he was debating how far to go. “Maybe you should let him go. For real this time. Stop bleeding for someone who doesn’t even know what he wants.”
I didn’t answer.
“And maybe,” he added more gently, “you should give Aitor an actual chance. Last night he was looking at you, like you were—”
“A drunk war zone?” I joked.
“Like you were edible…” He winked. “I think he really likes you…”
I knew he wasn’t wrong. Aitor had been amazing, kind, protective, honest…. He didn’t yank me forward and shove me back depending on his mood. He didn’t whisper things in the dark and then deny them in daylight.
He was the smart choice, the healthy choice.
And I hated that my chest didn’t react the same way when I thought about him.
“I know,” I said finally. “I know.”
James squeezed my arm once. “You deserve someone like him. Aitor isn’t a consolation prize, bro; he’s everyone’s dream guy.”
I looked across the room without meaning to.
Garrett was laughing at something Trisha said, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
Next to him, Aitor was reading, with that focus that made him so attractive. His long hair falling over his almond eyes. So beautiful, so delicate, like an angel.
Day and night.
When Aitor picked me up after class and we walked to rehearsal together, we came across Garrett and Trisha holding hands, and at that moment, I realized James was right.
That’s when I made my decision.
The last note faded into the room and hung there between us.
For a second, neither of us moved.
I was still breathing hard, the emotion of the song sitting heavy in my chest. Aitor’s fingers were trembling slightly against the strings. We looked at each other—and something shifted.
His eyes were fixed on mine, his breathing shallow, his lips trembling slightly, conflicted… I leaned forward without fully deciding to. Not thinking. Just… drifting.
He didn’t pull away.
For one suspended second, we were close enough to feel each other’s breath.
And then he hesitated. Just barely.
It was enough.
We both straightened at the same time, clearing our throats like idiots who hadn’t just almost crossed a line.
I looked away for a second before he edged closer.
“I like you, Aslan…” he said quietly.
My heart stuttered.
“But…?” I asked automatically, bracing for the fall.
He gave me a small, almost sad smile. “But nothing. You are incredible. I want to spend time with you. Get to know you.”
His hand tightened slightly around the violin bow before he added, softer, “We both have obvious… ghosts.”
“Linnea?” I asked.
He nodded once. “Yeah. I’ve always loved her, you know? But she will never love me. Or rather… she probably does. Just not enough. There’s always something in the way. Her ambition. Her need to be more.” He exhaled. “And last night there was also the very talented Elliot Simmer. I saw them leave together. She made her choice.”
My stomach dropped. “I’m so sorry.”
He shrugged, but it wasn’t casual. “I suspected it. She’s my thorn, you know?”
Silence settled again, heavier this time.
“In your case…” he continued carefully, “I know there’s something between you and Garrett.”
“I don’t love Garrett,” I cut in too fast, shaking my head. “I don’t even know him enough for that. And he hates me. He told me that.”
Aitor held my gaze. Calm. Certain.
“Whatever you two feel, there’s something between you. But it won’t happen, Aslan. He will never let it happen. Just as Linnea won’t.”
That landed deeper than I expected.
My heart sank, but I forced a small, crooked smile. “I guess we have that in common.”
“We do,” he agreed quietly.
I swallowed, then said it anyway. “I… I like you too, Aitor.”
His eyebrows lifted slightly.
“But…?” he echoed, this time.
I almost laughed at that.
“But nothing,” I said, meaning it. “You’re also pretty amazing. And I think… I think we can help each other fight our ghosts.”
The air felt different after that. Softer. Less chaotic.
He reached out slowly and cupped my face, his thumb brushing just beneath my cheekbone.
“We can try,” he said.
And this time, when our foreheads nearly touched, neither of us rushed it.
No desperation.
No hunger.
Just two broken people standing very close in the quiet.
And somehow, that felt more dangerous than anything else.