The rest of the school afternoon passed under Chloe's constant surveillance. She had made sure that (Y/N) was not alone for a single instant. He had feigned submission, nodding and laughing at the appropriate moments, while his mind planned how to find Alex.
— Chloe: You have to come to my house today, (Y/N). — She had said when the dismissal bell rang, her tone not a question, but a kind command. — I don't like you being alone at home. Plus, you have that History essay, and I'll help you.
(Y/N) knew that Chloe's "help" meant "control" and that her house was the safest prison for the moment, but he had accepted it as a disguised opportunity.
— (Y/N): Whatever you want, Chloe. Sounds great.
Chloe's smile was the winter sun: bright, beautiful, and devoid of vital warmth. For (Y/N), that smile meant he had passed the test, for now. He walked by her side, feeling the weight of the history book he carried as an alibi and the silent urgency of his new mission: Alex.
The walk to Chloe's house was always a torture. As they passed the park, Chloe began to speak, and this time, (Y/N) listened with the concentration of a spy, looking for cracks.
— Chloe: You know, (Y/N)? You're very different from the others. — She said, adjusting her pace. — Most boys... — She paused contemptuously. — They only want to take advantage of me. My grades, my popularity, my body. They never see what really matters.
(Y/N) nodded.
— (Y/N): I'm not like that, Chloe.
She squeezed his arm with satisfaction.
— Chloe: I know. That's why I chose you. You know... I used to hate school.
The comment was a whiplash. Chloe, the girl with perfect grades, hated school?
— (Y/N): Seriously? Why?
Chloe sighed, and for an instant, the mask of perfection cracked, revealing a void.
Chloe's Past:
The image appeared in (Y/N)'s mind like a fragment of a vivid dream. It was not his memory, but a vision of Chloe's childhood, invoked by the emotional crack in her voice.
A girl with perfectly styled blonde hair, about ten years old, was sitting alone on the edge of a sandbox. While other children screamed and played, she held a book. A group of girls approached and one of them snatched the book, throwing it into the dirt. "Look, little Miss Know-It-All has no friends," the girl laughed.
Little Chloe didn't cry. Her eyes, already cold, only registered contempt. She got up, brushed off the dust, and walked away, leaving the book in the sand. Her face was a blank slate, but the intention was clear: If they can't love you for your excellence, they'll have to fear you.
— Chloe: The other kids... they're noisy. They're cruel. — Chloe shuddered, returning to the present. — They used to mock me because I wasn't like them. They called me "robot." But once I understood the rules, (Y/N)... I understood that for them to take you seriously, you have to be better than them. And if you are perfect, you have the right to fix what is broken.
The tone was casual, but the implication was chilling. She saw her control over him, and perhaps over Alex, as an act of "fixing" the disorder the world had placed there.
They arrived at Chloe's house, which looked as impeccable and cold as its owner. Once inside, (Y/N) headed to the study room, with Chloe following closely.
— Chloe: Where do you want to start? Shall we finish the History essay before watching a movie?
— (Y/N): Yes, please. Hey, could I go to the bathroom for a moment?
— Chloe: Sure, but hurry up.
As (Y/N) closed the bathroom door, his mind raced. He couldn't risk using the phone with Chloe nearby.
He turned on the sink faucet full blast, creating a sound barrier. He took out his phone tremblingly. His plan had been to look for Alex in the school yearbook, but the risk of Chloe discovering it was too high. Now, the opportunity had arisen here.
Just one minute. No traces.
He disabled the Wi-Fi, relying only on mobile data (if Chloe monitored the house Wi-Fi network, his plan would be useless).
He opened the browser, quickly typing: "Alex [name of the school]".
The results appeared almost immediately. His finger went to a link that said: "Student Alex dies after incident in the subway".
He clicked.
Before he could read more than the headline and the date (about a year ago), he heard a soft knock on the door.
— Chloe (Muffled voice): Are you okay, (Y/N)? You're taking a long time.
Panic flared. Chloe's voice sounded normal, but her sensitivity to (Y/N)'s absence was terrifying.
(Y/N) quickly closed the browser, locking the phone.
— (Y/N): Yes, I'm fine, Chloe! I'm coming out now!
He put the phone in the inside pocket of his jacket, his heart beating uncontrollably against the screen. He opened the door and smiled.
— (Y/N): Sorry, Chloe.
She returned his smile. It was the fakest smile he had ever seen.
— Chloe: Don't worry. Let's focus. Perfection requires concentration, right, (Y/N)?
As they returned to the study, (Y/N) realized that not only had he gained the name, but a crucial piece of information: Alex had not disappeared; he had died.
Autor:
I still have no idea what I'm writing, lol, but I enjoy having fun while writing.