The Veil of Glass

Stress on Hands

Liora sat in the back of the classroom, her head tilted downward, pretending to take notes while her mind wandered elsewhere. The teacher's voice droned on, a dull hum that she barely registered as her eyes flitted to Nathaniel and Clarissa, seated just a few rows ahead of her. Their heads were close together, whispering in low voices. From her vantage point, Liora couldn't hear much of what they were saying, but she noticed the sharp looks Nathaniel kept casting in Azazel's direction, who was seated by the window, lost in his own world.

Her fingers absently traced patterns on her notebook, her concentration entirely on the trio. Something was different today—an unusual tension hung in the air. Nathaniel's posture was stiff, his face marked with unease, while Clarissa, usually poised and bubbly, seemed jittery, her nervous energy spilling out in quiet giggles that didn't quite reach her eyes.

Liora narrowed her eyes. What was going on between them? She focused intently on the pair, her heartbeat accelerating as she watched Nathaniel lean in even closer to Clarissa, his voice dipping into a murmur. She strained to hear, her pulse quickening when she caught a single word.

"Azazel."

Her breath hitched. Liora's attention sharpened like a blade. She sat up slightly, leaning forward, her fingers tapping against the desk in a staccato rhythm as she strained to make out more. Clarissa's answering giggle was higher-pitched than usual, almost forced, and Nathaniel's gaze flicked nervously toward Azazel once more, his brow furrowing as if the mere mention of the name unsettled him.

Then Clarissa's voice, just a little too loud, broke through the tension. "Did you see that picture on his phone? It was... weird."

Liora's blood ran cold.

A picture?

On Azazel's phone?

Her heart pounded in her chest, a surge of unease rising in her throat. What could Clarissa have seen? She tried to focus on their conversation, the curiosity gnawing at her, pulling her deeper into a spiral of questions.

What kind of picture could cause this reaction?

Nathaniel's face was clouded with something deeper—concern, maybe even fear. He shook his head, looking at Clarissa with a tense frown. "Yeah. I've never seen him keep anything like that before. It's... unlike him."

Unlike him.

The words echoed in Liora's mind, her thoughts racing. Azazel, with his cool detachment and mysterious aura, had always kept everyone at arm's length. For him to have something on his phone—something so personal that it unsettled Nathaniel—made her stomach twist with both excitement and unease.

Clarissa's eyes widened, her face pale. "Do you think it means something? Like... something personal?"

Nathaniel let out a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck in frustration. "I don't know. But the way he shut it off so fast when I saw it... like he didn't want anyone to know. It felt... intimate."

Liora's fingers tightened around her pen until her knuckles turned white. Intimate? Her heart raced, a slow burn of jealousy curling in her chest. The idea of Azazel, the enigma who consumed her thoughts, keeping something intimate—something personal—was unbearable.

Who could it be?

What was Azazel hiding, and more importantly, why did it feel like this was something significant? The need to know clawed at her insides. Her mind spun with possibilities, each one more agonizing than the last.

Then, as if sensing the weight of her gaze, Azazel shifted in his seat. His eyes flickered toward her for the briefest of moments—so brief that anyone else might have missed it. But not Liora. No, she felt it like a jolt of electricity, a silent acknowledgment that sent her heart into a frantic rhythm. Did he know she was watching? Did he feel it too?

Before she could lose herself in the flood of emotions, the bell rang, signaling the end of class. Students began packing up, filling the air with the chaotic sounds of shuffling papers and bags being zipped. Liora, moving slowly, kept her eyes on Nathaniel and Clarissa as they gathered their things. They exchanged a few last whispered words before heading toward the door, their faces still troubled.

But Liora wasn't done. The game wasn't over.

As the classroom emptied, she gathered her belongings and followed behind Clarissa, her mind still consumed with thoughts of Azazel and the mysterious picture on his phone. Her opportunity to uncover more was approaching, but her focus shattered when she caught sight of him—the one who haunted her thoughts.

Azazel walked toward her in the crowded hallway, his usual air of detachment surrounding him like an invisible shield. Liora's breath hitched. She could feel the pull of him even from a distance, the intensity of his presence like a magnetic force that drew her in.

She couldn't tear her eyes away. His steps were measured, indifferent to the chaos of the hallway. Clarissa kept talking beside her, but the words didn't register. Liora's entire focus was on Azazel.

And then, it happened.

As he drew closer, their shoulders brushed—a casual, almost accidental touch. But the force of the contact sent Liora's books tumbling to the floor. She froze, her heart slamming against her ribs as she knelt to gather the scattered papers and textbooks.

Just as she reached for the last book, she felt it—a soft, fleeting touch against her leg. Azazel's fingers. The contact was so subtle, so delicate, that anyone else might have missed it.

But not Liora.

Her breath hitched as a shiver ran down her spine. She looked up, only to find him already standing, holding out her book with that same unreadable expression. His face revealed nothing, as if the moment had meant nothing to him. Without a word, he placed the book in her hands and walked away, disappearing into the sea of students.

Liora remained frozen, the warmth of his fingers still tingling against her skin. Her heart was racing, her mind spinning in chaotic circles. The brief, accidental touch had ignited something deep inside her—an insatiable need to be closer to him, to unravel the layers of the boy who had slipped so effortlessly into her thoughts. Did he feel it too?

They finally reached the washroom. Liora followed Clarissa inside, the fluorescent lights flickering slightly above them. The room was empty, the only sounds their footsteps and the faint hum of electricity. Clarissa, seemingly more relaxed now that they were alone, leaned against the sink, her expression suddenly serious.

"Liora... I need to tell you something." Her voice was low, as if she feared someone might overhear. "It's about Azazel."

Liora's pulse quickened. "What is it?"

Clarissa hesitated before speaking. "There was a picture on his phone. A girl's hand. I think he's... into someone, but a hand? Isn't that an odd kind of... fetish?"

The words hit Liora like a punch to the gut. Her vision blurred with a rush of jealousy, anger flaring hot in her chest. Without thinking, she snapped, her voice sharp and demanding,

"Did you know whose hand it was!?"

Clarissa's eyes widened in surprise, taken aback by Liora's sudden outburst. "I—no! I just saw the hand. I don't know who it belongs to."

Realizing her mistake, Liora swallowed hard, panic setting in. She needed to fix this. She forced herself to calm down, her voice softening as she scrambled for an excuse. "I'm sorry, Clarissa. I didn't mean to freak out. It's just... I thought you liked him, and I was worried for you."

Clarissa's suspicion lingered for a moment before she nodded, though her expression remained wary. "It's okay... it's just strange, you know? Azazel isn't the type to be close to anyone. He barely looks at anyone, I hope it's not what we think it is."

Liora nodded, but inside, the jealousy and frustration simmered. She needed to find out more. This wasn't over—not by a long shot.

As they left the washroom, Liora's mind was already racing with her next move. The game was far from finished. She was determined to find out who that hand belonged to—and make sure it wasn't anyone who would stand between her and Azazel.