The air in the Luxe Syndicates' private lounge always carried a kind of heaviness, a mixture of expensive cologne, alcohol that wasn't supposed to be on campus, and the sharp tang of smoke curling lazily from one of the lighters Theodore had flicked open and abandoned. It wasn't the kind of place you ever liked walking into, but tonight felt heavier than usual, and your chest was already tight before the door even clicked shut behind you.

Theodore was easy to find, like he always was - center of attention, sitting with the kind of casual arrogance that made everyone else look like they were orbiting him. His shirt was undone just enough to look deliberate, his long legs stretched out comfortably across the couch. And then there was her.

Selena.

Your ex-best friend. Perched on Theodore's lap like she belonged there, her laugh high and syrupy, one hand curled around his shoulder while his fingers traced idle shapes against her thigh. The sound of their voices, their closeness, it hit like a punch straight to the stomach.

Theodore didn't even flinch when he saw you in the doorway. If anything, his mouth curved into that smirk that always meant trouble. That same infuriatingly confident look, like he knew exactly what he was doing and didn't care if it burned the whole room down.

"Didn't know we had company," he drawled, not moving an inch to push Selena away. His hand stayed right where it was, possessive in the most careless way. "You planning to just stand there, or...?"

Selena's laugh came sharp and mocking, but Theodore held your gaze, eyes glittering with amusement instead of guilt. He didn't look guilty. He didn't look surprised. He didn't look like someone caught doing something wrong.

But Theodore thrived in moments like this - dangling the knife and daring you to grab it. He leaned back further into the couch, Selena adjusting herself in his lap with a little hum of satisfaction, like this was all some inside joke you weren't invited to anymore.

It was supposed to be different tonight. You had come here with something heavy, words pressing against your throat, something you'd rehearsed a dozen times but still couldn't quite believe you had to say out loud. A confession about the disease, about the way the world had tilted beneath your feet and left you scrambling to keep steady. You'd come to Theodore because, despite everything, he was the one person you thought you could lean on.

But standing there, watching him with Selena, all those words burned to ash.

Theodore's smirk deepened when you didn't answer right away. He tapped the unlit cigarette against the arm of the couch, deliberately slow. "What? Nothing to say? You usually have so much to say." His tone was teasing, almost cruel, but undercut with that undeniable magnetism that always made it hard to walk away. "Don't tell me you're jealous. That'd be cute."

Selena giggled again, but Theodore ignored her, his gaze never leaving you. The room felt smaller with every second, the distance between you widening even as your eyes locked.

"I mean," Theodore added, shrugging one shoulder like this was nothing, like you were nothing, "you can't really expect me to sit around waiting, can you? Life's short. Might as well enjoy it while I can." His words were careless, tossed out like a casual truth, but every syllable carried a sharp edge meant to cut.