How to Survive as a BL Villain-Chapter 53: I miss you, Elliot

The morning air, crisp and carrying the faint, sweet scent of cherry blossoms, felt like a gentle caress after the warmth of yesterday’s picnic they went home and had a normal day, and this morning, all 3 of them feel light-headed and fresh

Sunlight, still shy and golden, dappled through the ancient trees lining the campus paths, painting shifting patterns on the worn cobblestones. Cassian walked between Aiden and Leonel, a comfortable silence woven between their easy laughter. The lingering magic of the previous day, spent under a vast, cerulean sky, still hummed in his veins.

Aiden, ever the jester, was recounting some moments from his childhood, his voice a low rumble punctuated by dramatic pauses. Leonel, usually more reserved, leaned in, a rare, genuine smile gracing his lips, his hand brushing Cassian’s arm almost imperceptibly as they navigated a small cluster of students. Cassian, caught in the infectious cheerfulness, let out a laugh a sound so light, so utterly unguarded, that it surprised even himself. For a fleeting, precious moment, he almost felt... normal. Not a man trapped in a fictional world, not someone who’s burdened by an unknown fate, but simply Cassian, walking with his friends on a beautiful morning.

The easy rhythm of their steps, the shared glances, the quiet understanding that flowed between them it was a fragile, beautiful illusion he clung to with a desperate tenderness. He could almost forget the anxiety that often twisted in his gut, the constant fear of discovery, of his carefully constructed world crumbling around him.

They rounded the corner near the lecture hall

Leaning against one of the massive, fluted pillars, as if he owned the very air they breathed, was a figure that made Cassian’s blood run cold. Lucian. He was dressed impeccably, a dark, tailored jacket accentuating his lean frame, his dark hair falling artfully across his forehead. A predatory, knowing smile played on his lips, a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. His arms were crossed, an air of casual dominance radiating from him, like a predator patiently waiting for its prey.

He didn’t spare Aiden or Leonel so much as a glance. His gaze, an unsettling shade of obsidian, bypassed them completely, locking onto Cassian with an unnerving intensity that felt like a physical blow. The world seemed to tilt on its axis, the gentle morning light suddenly harsh and unforgiving.

Cassian’s breath hitched. Every muscle in his body tensed, a primal instinct screaming at him to run, to hide, to disappear. This wasn’t a nightmare this was Lucian. Here. In this world.

And then Lucian spoke. His voice, smooth as polished steel, cut through thebackground noise of the campus chatter, clear and deep enough for the passing crowd to hear. It wasn’t a threat, not yet. It was something far more crafty. A greeting.

"Morning, Elliot."

The word hung in the air, thick and suffocating, like a poisoned dart aimed directly at Cassian’s heart. Elliot. The name, a ghost from a life he’d desperately tried to leave behind, echoed in the sudden, ringing silence of Cassian’s mind. It was a slap, sharp and brutal, tearing through his new identity.

Aiden and Leonel, caught off guard. Their faces, moments ago light with carefree joy, now turned into masks of confusion, then suspicion. Aiden’s brow furrowed, his eyes darting from Lucian to Cassian, a silent question forming on his lips. Leonel’s jaw tightened, his gaze hardening on Lucian, a low, sound of warning rumbling in his chest. Elliot? Their puzzled expressions screamed. What the hell is he saying? Why is he calling Cassian that?

The students nearby, who had been bustling past, slowed, their conversations dying down. Heads began to turn. A ripple of curiosity, then confusion, spread through the small crowd. Cassian felt their eyes, hundreds of them, burning into him.

"Elliot?" someone whispered, the sound carrying clearly in the sudden hush.

"I thought his name was Cassian?" another voice chimed in, laced with curiosity.

Cassian froze. His laugh, his smile, his fleeting moment of joy all vanished, replaced by a cold, numbing dread. His hands, without his conscious command, curled into tight, white-knuckled fists at his sides, his nails digging painfully into his palms. A cold sweat broke out on his forehead. This was it. The moment he had feared. Lucian hadn’t just found him he was actively trying to put everything in place.

Before Cassian could even process the surge of panic, Aiden, ever protective, instinctively stepped slightly in front of him, a silent shield. His broad shoulders squared, his posture radiating a defiant challenge towards Lucian. Leonel, his eyes now narrowed to dangerous slits, clenched his jaw, a muscle twitching ominously. The air crackled with unspoken tension, thick and volatile.

Lucian, oblivious or perhaps deliberately indifferent to the rising hostility, pushed off the pillar with relaxed grace. He began to walk towards them, his smile never faltering, a predator enjoying the chase. Each step was unhurried, deliberate.

"You forgot your notebook again, Elliot," he said, his voice a silken purr, as he held out a plain, black journal. It was the same one Cassian had used in his previous life, the one he’d scribbled notes and ideas in, the one Lucian had given him. The sight of it, so normal, yet so deeply personal, was another wrench to Cassian’s gut.

Cassian’s gaze flickered to the journal, then back to Lucian’s face. A silent battle raged within him. He wanted to snatch it, to deny its existence, to erase the proof of his past. But the journal was a piece of him, a fragment of his original world. He took a hesitant step forward, his hand reaching out, trembling almost unnoticeably.

Just as his fingertips brushed the worn cover, Lucian’s grip tightened, holding it fast. His smile widened, revealing a flash of white teeth that seemed too sharp, too knowing. He didn’t say anything, just held Cassian’s gaze, a silent challenge in his dark eyes. Won’t you say anything to me, Elliot? The unspoken words resonated, mocking.

Then, with a smooth motion, Lucian dropped the journal slightly, his fingers snaking out to capture Cassian’s hand, his thumb stroking the back of it in a gesture that was both intimate and utterly repulsive. A shiver of revulsion ran down Cassian’s spine.

Before Cassian could react, Leonel moved. With the speed of a striking viper, his hand shot out, grabbing Lucian’s wrist in a vise-like grip. "Leave him," Leonel’s voice was a low growl, strained with barely suppressed fury. He squeezed, his fingers digging into Lucian’s flesh, a silent threat of violence.

Lucian didn’t flinch. His smile remained, unwavering, though his eyes narrowed imperceptibly, a spark of cold amusement glinting within them. "You want to create a scene here, Leonel?" he asked, his voice still unnervingly calm, a stark contrast to Leonel’s barely contained rage. "I don’t think that’s what Elliot wants." His gaze flickered to Cassian, a subtle challenge.

"Stop calling him that!" Aiden snapped, his voice rough with anger, stepping fully in front of Cassian now, his body a solid barrier.

Lucian merely smirked, his eyes still fixed on Leonel. "Or else -?" he prompted, raising an eyebrow, his grip on Cassian’s hand still firm.

Leonel’s knuckles were white, his grip on Lucian’s wrist tight enough to bruise. He wanted nothing more than to break Lucian’s arm, to wipe that infuriating smirk off his face. But Lucian’s words, "I don’t think that’s what Elliot wants," had struck a nerve. Leonel knew Cassian hated drawing attention, especially negative attention.

The idea of causing a public spectacle while knowing few people are watching will make more people watch, potentially embarrassing Cassian further, holding him back. With a frustrated, almost pained growl, Leonel released Lucian’s wrist, his hand falling back to his side, clenched into a fist.

Lucian’s smirk widened into a winning grin. He turned his attention back to Cassian, his eyes burning with an obsessive hunger. And then, in a gesture that made Cassian’s stomach churn, Lucian brought Cassian’s hand to his lips, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to his knuckles. "I miss you, Elliot," he murmured, his voice laced with a possessive tenderness that sent shivers of disgust down Cassian’s spine.

Aiden and Leonel surged forward simultaneously, their faces contorted in pure fury. Aiden’s fist was already cocked back, Leonel’s body coiled, ready to strike. But Cassian, fueled by a surge of pure adrenaline and disgust, jerked his hand away with a desperate, violent yank, tearing it from Lucian’s grasp. The sudden movement, born of a deep-seated anger, caught Lucian off guard, his smile momentarily faltering.

"Don’t touch me," Cassian hissed, his voice low and trembling, but laced with a cold fury that surprised even himself. His eyes blazed, a raw, untamed fire.

Lucian, recovering quickly, merely watched him, a slow, dark laugh came up from his chest. It wasn’t a laugh of amusement, but of satisfaction, of victory.

He had achieved his goal. He had shattered Cassian’s fragile peace, and he had done it in front of everyone. The crowd, now a hushed, wide-eyed semicircle, watched the unfolding drama, their whispers growing louder, more speculative.

The damage was done. The seed of doubt, of suspicion, had been firmly planted. And Cassian, caught in the harsh glare of unwanted attention, felt the ground crumble beneath his feet. His normal morning was brutally broken.