An Astronomer's Guide to Falling Angels

Chapter 11

The stares followed Astor everywhere. Whispers trailed behind him as he walked through the school halls, a shadow cast by the looming presence of his bodyguard. Astor had always been used to attention, but not like this. Not the kind of attention that made him feel like he was trapped in a glass box, being scrutinised by everyone around him.

He forced himself to act normal, to laugh with Arty whenever she made a joke or to smile at Lukas and Oda when they bantered in class. Arty had been going out of her way to cheer him up, always there with her casual warmth, her sarcastic comments, her quiet reassurances. But no matter how hard she tried, the bodyguard's looming figure always reminded him of the chains his parents had tightened around him.

Just before lunch, Arty caught up to him outside the cafeteria, grinning at him like usual. "I've saved you a spot," she said, nodding toward their usual table. "Come on, I've got something to tell you that'll actually make you laugh this time."

Astor's lips twitched into a small, grateful smile. For a moment, it felt like things could be normal again—until his bodyguard, standing just behind him, stepped forward.

"Mr. Darling," the bodyguard said with a flat, authoritative tone, "your mother has instructed that you are not to have lunch here today. She's arranged for you to eat in a private room."

The words hit Astor like a blow to the gut. He froze, his smile vanishing as he stared at the bodyguard in disbelief. He felt Arty tense next to him, the flare of anger in her eyes unmistakable.

"Are you kidding me?" Arty snapped, her fists clenching at her sides. "He's at school. He can eat lunch wherever the hell he wants."

The bodyguard didn't even acknowledge her, his cold eyes fixed on Astor. "Please come with me, sir."

Astor's chest tightened as frustration and helplessness swelled inside him. He glanced at Arty, his eyes pleading for her to understand, but he couldn't even form the words. Reluctantly, he nodded at the bodyguard and followed him, leaving Arty fuming behind him.

Lunch was a blur. He hadn't been able to eat a single bite, the weight of everything pressing down on him. The oppressive feeling only grew heavier, until after lunch, he found himself rushing to the nearest bathroom, his stomach turning violently. He barely made it to the sink before vomiting, gripping the edge of the counter as if it could anchor him.

Astor stared into the mirror, his reflection pale and gaunt. His eyes, usually so warm and lively, looked dead. He didn't know what to do anymore. His parents had taken away the little freedom he had, and now he couldn't even be with his friends without a shadow looming over him. The thought of Arty, of her concern and anger on his behalf, only made it worse. He hated that she had to see him like this—weak, powerless.

After rinsing his mouth out, he stepped out of the bathroom, running a shaky hand through his hair. Just as he did, the door to the women's bathroom opened, and James walked out.

For a moment, they both stood there, surprised to see each other. James looked... different. Her usual polished, sharp confidence wasn't there. Instead, she seemed a little subdued, her shoulders tense as if something weighed on her.

"Hey," Astor said softly, his voice hoarse. Despite everything swirling in his mind, he still managed a kind smile. "Happy belated birthday. I, uh... didn't get a chance to say it on Saturday."

James blinked, clearly taken aback by his words. For a split second, her composure cracked, her eyes flickering with something vulnerable. "Thanks," she said quietly, her voice not as sharp as usual. She quickly straightened, however, recovering her usual poise. "I didn't expect you to remember, given, well..." She gestured vaguely at his bodyguard, her eyes narrowing slightly. "What's the deal with that, anyway?"