Shiver Through Burn

Chapter 7

"Are you sure you don’t want us to drop you off?" Bien asked, her brows furrowing slightly with concern as she peeked from the passenger seat of Hellion's car.

"I can handle myself, my apartment is nearby," I reassured her, adjusting the strap of my bag over my shoulder.

"Alright, take care then," she said with a soft smile before driving away into the night. I raised a hand to wave her off, watching the tail lights fade around the corner, swallowed by the darkness.

The streets were eerily quiet as the night fully settled. It was already dark when our classes ended, and I could still feel the remnants of the headache Lucerio had gifted me. That crazy guy really won’t leave me alone. His voice, his smirk, his relentless arguing had been a constant presence all afternoon. I swear, that menace was like a shadow that wouldn’t leave me alone.

Debating every point, poking every idea, countering every breath I took as if it were some academic duel he was obsessed with winning. Like he couldn’t leave me even a sliver of peace. Yet despite all his effort, he hadn’t beaten me. He never will.

I sighed, my feet instinctively carrying me toward the familiar, calm sidewalks. The city’s rhythm had slowed down, replaced by the low hum of passing tricycles, the occasional bark of stray dogs, and the distant blare of a jeepney stereo playing some heartbreak anthem.

Peace. At last.

Or so I thought.

"Going home, Guilermo?" That same smug voice sliced through the quiet, making my entire body tense.

I stopped and turned to see him leaning casually against his new car—another one of his expensive toys. He looked so smooth as he got out, his movements deliberate, like he was some king of the road. Other than his obsession with outsmarting me, he was also obsessed with his cars. The way he kept collecting them, each more extravagant than the last. I couldn’t help but wonder how much tax he paid just to indulge in his little addiction.

I turned to look him straight in the eyes, feeling my irritation surge again. His hands were in his pockets, his posture relaxed, but the glint in his eyes told me otherwise. He was always watching, always looking for an opportunity to get under my skin. Lucerio’s gaze was a constant, steady presence—almost like he was trying to read me with every glance.

And every time we locked eyes, it was as if he was peeling back layers, searching for something deep within me. Something I couldn’t even name. It always unnerved me. He seemed to find meaning in the way my eyes flickered or how my lips curved.

"Obviously," I replied flatly, giving him a side-eye before walking past him.

"Do you need accompaniment? I see you didn’t bring your car," he called after me.

"You might get stabbed on the side. You are very stab-able after all." he gave me an infuriating smirk as he adjust his eyeglasses.

I rolled my eyes. "The hell you care?"

"I don’t," he shrugged with that insufferable nonchalance. "But life would be boring if my enemy died."

"Then good for you," I shot back, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "You’d be top one then."

He smirked, completely unbothered by my jab. I, on the other hand, was ready to smack him with my bag. My head was already ringing from all the arguments we'd had that day, and here he was, continuing his personal torment session. If I had a choice, I'd pick getting a beating instead of putting up with him.

I walked faster, hoping he’d take the hint and leave me alone, but no. He matched my pace, every step synced with mine like he was some annoying shadow I couldn’t shake off.

"I don’t want to be number one if it means you’re gone." he said suddenly, his voice calm, but the weight of his words hit me like a jolt.

I stopped in my tracks, my mind racing as I tried to make sense of what he just said. Lucerio had this uncanny way of unsettling me with his nonsense.

"I still want to see the failure on your face," he continued, his tone oddly serious, like he was revealing some cryptic truth.

I couldn’t help but grin.

"In your dreams, Lucerio." I rolled my eyes and quickened my pace, making my way into the nearest convenience store. I wasn’t in the mood to cook. Cup noodles were my only choice for a simple dinner.

Of course, Lucerio followed me in.

"Guilermo eating in the convenience store? What a waste," he said with a grin, grabbing a bottle of water and trailing me like a little duck. "Don’t you get, like, a big allowance from Daddy Congressman?"

"Don’t want to. Don’t need to," I replied curtly, reaching for the cup noodles I wanted.

He snorted. "Ah. Living a simple life? New script. Wouldn’t it be nice?"

I shot him a glare. "I don’t have the energy for you right now, De Chavel."

"Don’t worry, I brought enough energy for the both of us," he said, grinning like a fool.

"You’ve got something wrong with your brain," I muttered under my breath, walking away from him. I paid for my noodles and waited for it to cook, hoping, praying that he would just leave me alone. Finally, he did stop following me... but not for long.

A few moments later, he reappeared with the exact same noodles as mine, that smug expression of his still firmly in place, like he’d just cracked some cosmic joke no one else could understand.

I stared at him, raising a brow. "Seriously?"

"I was inspired by your new script," he said with a theatrical wave of his hand as he sat across from me, slurping his noodles. "Very grounded. Very demure. Very humble. Very fitting for the masses." He couldn’t resist adding, "A great prize for the market."

I let out a dry chuckle. "Very prone to gallstones," I shot back, continuing to eat.

"Wow, health-conscious now, Guilermo," he said with a smirk, twirling his noodles. "Better get a check-up with CPA Navida."

I glanced up, eyebrow raised. "Navida’s not even taking medicine."

"Exactly. 'CPA — Certified Failed Analyst.' She audits everything, even the love lives of others, but her own love life? Not a chance," he said with a grin, clearly proud of himself.

I couldn’t help but laugh a little. "Navida’s going to smack you if she hears that."

"That’s fair," he said with a shrug, biting into the hotdog he bought. "But I’ll die laughing."

I rolled my eyes, but didn’t argue. Lucerio De Chavel had a talent for being a pure headache.

After we finished eating, I stood up, gathered my trash, and tossed it into the bin. He did the same, surprisingly. Then again, he was the kind of man who paid attention to details—just not to people.

I checked the time. Past eight.

"Well, this is where we part ways," I said, feeling a small weight lift off my chest. At least for tonight, I was escaping his presence.

He tilted his head, still watching me with that knowing look, like he had some insight into my life that I didn’t even know existed.

"You’re not going straight home, are you?" he asked, his voice casual but with a certain edge to it.

That stopped me. I turned to face him, my voice immediately guarded. "What makes you say that?"

He didn’t answer right away. He just gave a sly smirk, almost like he was confirming something in his head. "Nothing. Just a hunch."

I narrowed my eyes, my patience wearing thin. "Do me a favor, Lucerio. Don’t follow me."

"Wouldn’t dream of it," he replied with mock surrender, hands raised. "But maybe don’t get caught doing whatever it is you’re doing. Big Daddy Congressman wouldn’t like that."

I felt a flicker of irritation. "Stay out of it," I said, voice sharp now.

He shrugged and turned away, whistling some old tune as he walked off, unbothered. I saw him drive off in his Range Rover Sport, honking at me as a final "goodbye." I ignored him and continued walking along the sidewalk, deep in my thoughts.