X01: MY PERFECTLY ABNORMAL LIFE

QUIET CUT

X01: My Perfectly Abnormal Life

It started with the juice box.

Dain always brought two — one for him, one for Xyan. Grape, Xyan's favorite, which Xyan had mentioned once, weeks ago, in passing.

But that Thursday in Phantom Theory, Dain set down an orange one in front of Xyan without thinking, and kept the grape for himself.

Small. Stupid. Xyan stared at it a second too long.

"You okay?" Dain asked, already opening his.

"Yeah," Xyan said, forcing a smile. "Just... thought you hated orange."

Dain laughed. "I do. Must've grabbed wrong."

But Xyan remembered — Dain never grabbed wrong. Dain remembered everyone's favorites. Dain remembered Harlow's essay deadline, Bren's lap count, the exact blind spot in the hallway cameras.

Then there was the seat.

For weeks, Dain saved the left seat in Basic Artifact Control — Xyan's good side, away from his bad shoulder. That Friday, Dain was already seated when Xyan limped in late from mopping, and the left seat was taken by someone else. Dain waved him to the right.

"Sorry, man, this guy was about to cry if I moved him," Dain whispered, not looking sorry at all.

Xyan sat on his bad side. His shoulder throbbed the whole lecture while Prof. Harlow droned about resonance breathing. Dain didn't ask if he was okay once.

The biggest crack came at night.

Xyan was mopping the east wing — his quiet route — when he heard voices around the corner. Dain's voice.

"...yeah, he's still sneaking out. Old wall, Tuesdays. Thinks I don't know."

A pause. Another voice, older, muffled. "...good. Keep him close."

Xyan froze, mop dripping. His heart hammered against his taped glasses.

He stepped forward — and the corridor was empty. Just the hum of lights and the smell of disinfectant.

He told himself he'd imagined it. Dain wouldn't—

But that night in the dorm, Dain knocked like always, all smiles, holding two juice boxes — both grape this time.

"Hey, brother. You looked dead today."

Xyan took the juice box. It felt cold. Wrong.

"Thanks," he said quietly, watching Dain's piercing blue eyes.

Dain smiled back, but for the first time, Xyan noticed it didn't reach his eyes. And when Dain looked away, his gaze scanned downward — at Xyan's hands, at the slate in his pocket — as if considering, calculating.

Xyan's necklace went cold under his shirt.

Something was off.

He just didn't know what yet.

X01: My Perfectly Abnormal Life

Xyan didn't confront Dain.

He just... stopped.

No fight. No questions. No drama.

When Dain saved a seat, Xyan sat two rows up. When Dain brought a juice box, Xyan said, "I'm good, thanks," and kept walking. When Dain knocked at night, Xyan pretended to be asleep.

It was quiet. Clean. The way you pull a tooth that's already loose.

Dain noticed on day three. His smile tightened at the edges. His piercing blue eyes followed Xyan across the cafeteria, scanning downward at the empty space beside Xyan where he used to sit — as if considering what went wrong.

He didn't chase. Devils are patient.

---

It took Gaiz and his crew four minutes to notice Xyan was alone again.

Four minutes after Dain stopped hovering, they cornered Xyan behind the conditioning sheds.

"Well, well," Gaiz grinned, cracking his knuckles. "The devil's little pet got dumped."

Xyan kept his head down, mop bucket in hand. "I have duty—"

"Duty?" One of them shoved his shoulder — the bad one. Pain flared. "Your duty is to remind us what 2% looks like."

A kick to the bucket. Dirty water splashed across Xyan's pants. Laughter.

"Hey!" Gaiz grabbed Xyan's taped glasses, lifted them off his face. "Let's see how blind the disgrace really is."

"Give them back," Xyan said quietly.

"Or what? You'll flex your 2% on us?"

They tossed the glasses between them like a game while Xyan stood blind and burning, fists clenched at his sides, necklace hot under his shirt. He didn't fight back. That was the rule.

---

*Mystical Training Room 3*

The air smelled like ozone and cold stone.

Kitarah and Onix faced each other, no uniforms — just training wraps, sweat already on their necks. The room's runes glowed faint blue around the circle.

No holding back. That was the deal.

Kitarah moved first — ring-blades screaming out in a twin arc. Onix didn't dodge, she _met_ them, her Echelon Flex flaring gold around her forearms, deflecting with a crack that shook the floor.

"Too slow, princess!" Onix barked, lunging.

Kitarah twisted, blades singing past Onix's ear, close enough to cut hair. Onix grinned savagely and swept low.

It was intense. Brutal. Beautiful.

Kitarah's speed and killer moves vs Onix's raw power. Sparks flew. The runes pulsed with each impact. Neither gave an inch — Kitarah took a shoulder hit that would bruise for a week, Onix took a blade graze across her ribs that drew blood. Both just laughed breathlessly and went harder.

Ten minutes. Fifteen. Until both were panting, on their knees, blades dropped, chests heaving.

Silence, except for their breathing.

Then Onix, voice low, barely above a whisper but clear in the humming room: "...damn. You're a monster."

Kitarah, also low, wiping blood from her lip, smiling: "You're worse. You fight like a street dog."

"Heh. You fight like you got something to prove."

"I do."

They sat shoulder to shoulder against the cold wall, sharing Onix's water flask, grinning like idiots.

"Rematch tomorrow?" Onix teased, nudging her.

"Bring bandages," Kitarah teased back, nudging harder.

Low voices. Easy smiles. No princess, no Echelon heir — just two guys in the way girls are when they finally find someone who doesn't make them pretend.

X01: My Perfectly Abnormal Life

Xyan didn't confront Dain.

He just... stopped.

No fight. No questions. No drama.

When Dain saved a seat, Xyan sat two rows up. When Dain brought a juice box, Xyan said, "I'm good, thanks," and kept walking. When Dain knocked at night, Xyan pretended to be asleep.

It was quiet. Clean. The way you pull a tooth that's already loose.

Dain noticed on day three. His smile tightened at the edges. His piercing blue eyes followed Xyan across the cafeteria, scanning downward at the empty space beside Xyan where he used to sit — as if considering what went wrong.

He didn't chase. Devils are patient.

---

It took Gaiz and his crew four minutes to notice Xyan was alone again.

Four minutes after Dain stopped hovering, they cornered Xyan behind the conditioning sheds.

"Well, well," Gaiz grinned, cracking his knuckles. "The devil's little pet got dumped."

Xyan kept his head down, mop bucket in hand. "I have duty—"

"Duty?" One of them shoved his shoulder — the bad one. Pain flared. "Your duty is to remind us what 2% looks like."

A kick to the bucket. Dirty water splashed across Xyan's pants. Laughter.

"Hey!" Gaiz grabbed Xyan's taped glasses, lifted them off his face. "Let's see how blind the disgrace really is."

"Give them back," Xyan said quietly.

"Or what? You'll flex your 2% on us?"

They tossed the glasses between them like a game while Xyan stood blind and burning, fists clenched at his sides, necklace hot under his shirt. He didn't fight back. That was the rule.

---

*Mystical Training Room 3*

The air smelled like ozone and cold stone.

Kitarah and Onix faced each other, no uniforms — just training wraps, sweat already on their necks. The room's runes glowed faint blue around the circle.

No holding back. That was the deal.

Kitarah moved first — ring-blades screaming out in a twin arc. Onix didn't dodge, she _met_ them, her Echelon Flex flaring gold around her forearms, deflecting with a crack that shook the floor.

"Too slow, princess!" Onix barked, lunging.

Kitarah twisted, blades singing past Onix's ear, close enough to cut hair. Onix grinned savagely and swept low.

It was intense. Brutal. Beautiful.

Kitarah's speed vs Onix's raw power. Sparks flew. The runes pulsed with each impact. Neither gave an inch — Kitarah took a shoulder hit that would bruise for a week, Onix took a blade graze across her ribs that drew blood. Both just laughed breathlessly and went harder.

Ten minutes. Fifteen. Until both were panting, on their knees, blades dropped, chests heaving.

Silence, except for their breathing.

Then Onix, voice low, barely above a whisper but clear in the humming room: "...damn. You're a monster."

Kitarah, also low, wiping blood from her lip, smiling: "You're worse. You fight like a street dog."

"Heh. You fight like you got something to prove."

"I do."

They sat shoulder to shoulder against the cold wall, sharing Onix's water flask, grinning like idiots.

"Rematch tomorrow?" Onix teased, nudging her.

"Bring bandages," Kitarah teased back, nudging harder.

Low voices. Easy smiles. No princess, no Echelon heir — just two guys in the way girls are when they finally find someone who doesn't make them pretend.