Roommate Badboy - Wicked Academy

39

Dinner had ended. Students drifted toward their dorms, some heading to the common faction rooms for late-night meetings, others slipping away for personal tasks or clandestine distractions under the cover of evening.

Jason couldn't have cared less. Suspension, grounding, lectures. None of it mattered. He slipped through the empty corridors, hands shoved in his pockets, eyes half-lidded, as if the whole world were a nuisance.

The rooftop door groaned as he pushed it open. A cool gust hit him, carrying the scent of stone and night air. He lifted the smuggled pipe to his lips as if it were his birthright, the embers flaring against his bruised cheekbones. Smoke curled upward, twisting and mingling with the moonlight.

He exhaled, leaning back against the ledge as though he owned the sky. Rules were for everyone else.

What he didn't notice at first were the steps behind him, measured, deliberate, echoing across the stone.

Frederick.

Jason glanced back at the footsteps, smirk tugging at his lips.

"Evening, West," he drawled, holding the pipe out like a dare, embers glowing faintly in the moonlight. "Want a drag?"

Frederick's eyes narrowed, and in one swift motion, he summoned his magic. With a subtle flick of his hand, Jason felt the pipe twist in his grip. Magic flared, and the ember seared his neck. Jason hissed sharply, jerking back.

"Fuck, you crazy!" he spat, hand flying to the burn.

Frederick said nothing. He stepped closer, voice low and controlled. "Making sure you weren't poisoning the air with your garbage."

Rubbing the scorched spot, Jason muttered, voice rough and half-mumbled, more a sardonic commentary than an offer: "Yeah...a puff or two would do him good. Loosen him up a bit."

Frederick's lips pressed into a thin line, his voice low and dangerous. "Play your little games," he said. "But I don't miss."

Jason's smirk sharpened. "Good. It wouldn't be fun if you did."

Frederick motioned subtly, as if Jason himself were the coal, the ember ready to flare. "She doesn't belong in your mess," he said quietly, venom beneath the control. "And if you even think about letting her near it...I swear I'll–"

Jason cut him off with a sharp chuckle, despite the sting, swallowing the pain as he straightened, fury flashing under the lazy grin he forced onto his face, eyes glinting with mischief. "You'll what, Westie?"

Frederick's hand twitched, a silent promise of what was coming, his control fraying by the second. The rooftop, the night, the glow of the pipe, everything pulsed with tension. Jason's grin widened, clearly enjoying every second.

The dining hall buzzed around them, the chatter and clatter of cutlery a distant hum to Stella's ears. She felt like she was moving through fog, each step heavy, each breath sluggish. Ruby wouldn't stop.

"Stella, seriously. What happened to you?" Ruby pressed, eyes sharp, scanning her from head to toe. "And your face..."

Stella rubbed at her temples, trying to steady the spinning thoughts, trying to ignore the exhaustion gnawing at her bones. She knew Ruby wouldn't relent, not until she got answers.

Instead of answering Ruby's relentless questions, Stella's eyes darted instinctively across the dining hall toward the very person this was all about.

But there was no sign of the blonde among the Blaze members. Her chest tightened with unease. Jason could be anywhere, and knowing him, it would never be for anything good, always slipping into secret dealings, hidden schemes she could only imagine.