CHAPTER 5_ Bitterness Looks Up
1817 Words
Morning at Crestview Academy was never truly quiet.
But the moment the sound of engines rolled through the front entrance—
everything stopped.
---
Conversations died instantly.
Footsteps slowed.
Heads turned.
Even the air itself seemed to pause.
---
Four black luxury cars entered the academy grounds one after another, polished to perfection beneath the morning light.
Not ordinary expensive.
The kind of expensive that announced power before the doors even opened.
Students immediately began whispering.
Then louder.
Then louder.
---
“They’re here.”
“No way—”
“Look! Look!”
“Oh my God—”
---
Phones came out instantly.
Excitement spread through the courtyard like wildfire.
Especially among the girls.
---
Because everyone at Crestview Academy knew them.
The boys who ruled the school without ever officially trying to.
The boys teachers tolerated.
The boys students feared.
The boys nobody challenged twice.
---
The first car door opened.
Then the second.
Then the third.
---
And chaos followed.
---
Marco De Santis stepped out first, dark sunglasses resting lazily against his nose, expression already irritated like the world had interrupted him by existing.
Girls immediately started whispering louder.
Some calling his name.
Some pretending not to stare while staring anyway.
---
Another door opened.
Elias Romano stepped out next, calm as ever, headphones around his neck, hands tucked into his pockets like he couldn’t hear the noise around him.
That only made people look more.
Because Elias carried silence differently.
The dangerous kind.
Damien Vale..the kind that causes trouble often.
His face always has those scars even when they are about to heal,he gives himself a fresh wound..that's what make girls swoon around him.
---
Then Isabella Rinaldi stepped out from another car, sharp eyes already scanning the crowd with visible annoyance.
She ignored every greeting thrown her way.
Every compliment.
Every stare.
---
But then—
The last door opened.
And the entire atmosphere changed.
---
Lucien Moretti stepped out slowly.
No rush.
No expression.
No interest in the noise exploding around him.
---
His black shirt hung loosely over one shoulder instead of properly worn, exposing the dark ink stretching across his chest and down his arm.
Sharp tattoos.
Chaotic lines.
Black against skin like warnings carved directly into him.
---
The screams started immediately.
Louder than before.
More reckless.
---
“Oh my God—”
“Lucien!”
“Look at him—”
“He’s insane—”
---
Girls nearly stumbled over each other trying to get closer.
Trying to look longer.
Trying to exist inside his attention for even a second.
---
Because Lucien Moretti carried danger the way other people carried confidence.
Naturally.
Effortlessly.
Terrifyingly.
---
But despite the screaming—
despite the obsession—
despite the desperate stares—
not one person actually approached him.
Not one.
---
Because everyone at Crestview Academy understood one thing about Lucien:
Admiring him from afar was safe.
Getting close was not.
---
Lucien walked forward without acknowledging anyone.
Not the voices.
Not the cameras.
Not the attention swallowing the courtyard whole.
---
His expression remained unreadable.
Cold.
Untouchable.
---
And somehow… that only made the crowd react harder.
---
The air around him felt wrong in a way people couldn’t explain.
Heavy.
Sharp.
Like standing too close to fire and knowing it would burn you—but staying anyway.
---
A group of girls near the staircase whispered frantically to each other.
“He’s even hotter in person…”
“No, seriously, look at him—”
“I heard he broke someone’s jaw last semester.”
“That’s exactly why he’s scary.”
---
Lucien didn’t react.
Didn’t slow down.
Didn’t care.
---
Marco smirked slightly at the chaos around them.
“Every year gets worse,” he muttered.
---
Isabella rolled her eyes.
“They’re acting like wild animals.”
---
Elias said nothing.
His gaze remained distant.
Elsewhere.
---
Meanwhile, students instinctively moved out of Lucien’s path as he walked.
Not because he asked them to.
Because fear moved faster than instructions.
---
The sound of his boots against the pavement echoed quietly beneath the noise.
Steady.
Controlled.
Certain.
---
And for some reason—
this morning felt different.
---
Lucien noticed it immediately.
Not visibly.
But something inside him sharpened slightly.
Like instinct reacting before logic could catch up.
---
His steps slowed for half a second.
Eyes lifting toward the academy building.
---
Silence pressed strangely against his chest.
Familiar.
Wrong.
Close.
---
Then it disappeared.
Just as quickly as it came.
---
Lucien kept walking.
Expression unchanged.
Aura just as dangerous.
---
But somewhere inside Crestview Academy—
the past had already stepped back onto the same ground as him.
And neither of them knew
how catastrophic that would become.
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The private class at Crestview Academy was quieter than usual.
Not because people were studying.
Nobody there ever really studied during lectures.
The silence came from boredom.
Expensive boredom.
---
The room itself looked nothing like a normal college classroom.
Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the city skyline.
Dark marble floors reflected the dim afternoon light.
Leather couches replaced ordinary desks.
A coffee machine hummed quietly near the back wall while soft instrumental music played low enough not to disturb anyone.
It was less of a classroom—
more of a private lounge for rich disasters.
---
At the front, the professor continued speaking anyway.
“…as you can see, market structures depend heavily on—”
---
Nobody listened.
---
Elias Romano sat near the windows, headphones resting around his neck while he lazily adjusted something on the music software glowing across his laptop screen.
---
Isabella Rinaldi sat nearby with crossed legs, filing her nails carefully while occasionally sipping from her iced coffee.
Beautiful.
Cold.
Completely uninterested.
---
And Marco De Santis—
was busy peeling the healing bruise on his cheek again.
---
The cut had almost healed days ago.
But Marco always reopened things before they could close properly.
Bruises.
Fights.
People.
---
A girl sitting across the room stared at him openly while pretending not to.
Most girls at Crestview did.
Because Marco carried trouble like it was fashion.
Messy dark hair.
Silver rings.
Tattooed hands.
A split lip that somehow made him more attractive instead of less.
The kind of guy parents warned daughters about—
which usually made girls want him more.
---
Marco noticed the staring immediately.
Smirked lazily.
Then peeled the bruise harder just to watch the girl blush.
---
The professor sighed.
Deeply exhausted.
---
Then—
the private class doors opened.
---
Principal Lorenzo stepped inside.
Nobody stood up.
Nobody greeted him.
Nobody cared enough.
---
Marco leaned back against the couch casually.
“If this is another lecture about attendance,” he muttered, “I’m leaving.”
---
A quiet laugh came from Isabella.
Elias kept typing.
---
The principal ignored them with the patience of a man who had survived this group for years.
Then he spoke calmly.
“We have someone joining our midst today.”
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Still—
nobody looked up.
---
At Crestview Academy, new students appeared constantly.
Most disappeared socially within weeks.
---
Marco kept peeling the bruise on his cheek absentmindedly.
Isabella continued filing her nails.
Elias adjusted volume levels on his laptop.
---
Principal Lorenzo glanced toward the hallway.
Then said,
“You may introduce yourself.”
---
Soft footsteps entered the room.
Slow.
Calm.
---
Nobody looked.
Until—
“My name is Arielle Vance.”
---
Everything stopped.
---
Marco’s fingers froze against his cheek.
Isabella slowly lifted her head.
Elias’s hands paused above the keyboard.
---
Silence spread violently across the room.
Not shock.
Bitterness.
---
Arielle Vance stood near the entrance quietly.
Long blonde hair falling over dark clothing.
Expression calm.
Too calm.
Like she hadn’t disappeared two years ago after setting their lives on fire.
---
Nobody smiled.
Nobody looked happy.
---
Because Arielle wasn’t someone they missed peacefully.
She was someone they remembered painfully.
---
Marco stared openly now.
Disbelief slowly turning into irritation.
“…No way.”
---
Isabella’s eyes hardened instantly.
All the softness memory once carried disappeared the moment she saw Arielle standing there again.
---
The message flashed through her mind immediately.
That horrible message.
The one that destroyed everything.
---
> You were never important to me.
---
Isabella slowly placed the nail file onto the table.
The sound echoed softly in the silence.
---
“You’ve got nerve,” she said coldly.
---
Arielle looked at her quietly.
But said nothing.
---
And somehow—
that silence irritated Isabella even more.
---
Elias still hadn’t spoken.
Hadn’t moved much either.
He just stared at Arielle like his brain was still trying to process reality correctly.
---
Marco finally leaned back slowly against the couch.
A humorless laugh escaped him.
“So ghosts are real now?”
---
The professor looked deeply uncomfortable already.
---
Principal Lorenzo cleared his throat.
“Arielle will be joining this class permanently.”
---
“Bad idea,” Isabella said immediately.
---
The principal ignored her.
Mostly because arguing with Isabella Rinaldi was exhausting.
---
Marco’s eyes remained locked on Arielle.
“You disappear for years,” he said slowly, “then walk back in here like nothing happened?”
---
Arielle’s fingers tightened slightly behind her back.
Still calm.
Still controlled.
Always hiding.
---
Before anybody else could speak—
the private class doors opened again.
---
And the atmosphere changed instantly.
---
Lucien Moretti walked in last.
---
Black jeans hanging low against tattooed hips.
Heavy boots.
Dark rings glinting beneath the dim lights.
An expensive black shirt hanging half-open, exposing the ink spreading across his chest and collarbone.
Messy red hair falling carelessly into sharp eyes that looked permanently dangerous.
---
The room went dead silent.
Even breathing suddenly felt loud.
---
Lucien stepped inside lazily, shutting the door behind him.
“Why’s everybody acting weird?” he muttered.
---
Nobody answered immediately.
---
Marco slowly looked toward him.
Then toward Arielle.
---
That was enough.
---
Lucien noticed.
---
His eyes moved across the room casually—
then stopped.
---
Arielle Vance.
Standing there.
Alive.
Back.
---
For the first time—
Lucien froze completely.
---
Not dramatically.
Just enough.
Enough for Marco to notice.
Enough for Isabella’s breathing to shift slightly.
Enough for Elias to finally look away.
---
Arielle looked at him quietly.
And suddenly every broken promise in the room became alive again.
---
Lucien stared at her.
Expression unreadable.
Too unreadable.
---
Then slowly—
he smiled.
---
Not warmly.
Not kindly.
The kind of smile people regretted seeing too late.
---
“Well,” Lucien said softly,
“look what finally came back.”
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The room stayed silent.
Because nobody there mistook that smile for forgiveness.
TBC 🌺🌺🌺
- Writer
