How to Survive as a BL Villain Chapter 20: why can’t I say I hate it?

(Aiden’s POV)

Cassian’s face was flushed, his breaths uneven as if he’d just sprinted a mile. He shoved Leonel’s arm off him like it burned and turned toward with the weakest laugh I’d ever heard.

"It’s nothing," he blurted out, voice too quick, too nervous. "Leonel just reminded about... sothing embarrassing I did when I was drunk."

He patted my hand awkward, rushed like he was begging to let it go, then hurried back toward the classroom. His steps were too fast, like he thought if he kept moving, maybe the heat in his cheeks and the weight in the air would disappear.

I stared after him, trying to piece together what I’d just walked in on. My chest tightened, sothing sharp crawling under my skin. I knew Cassian was lying. His laugh was shaky, his words flimsy.

Behind , Leonel let out a low chuckle. "Cute," he murmured under his breath, soft but smug.

My jaw clenched. Cute? That wasn’t the laugh of soone who’d simply reminded a friend of a drunken slip-up. That laugh carried satisfaction. Possession. Sothing that made my stomach twist.

I turned to him, voice low. "I know that’s not what happened. Are you gonna tell what really went down?"

Leonel’s eyes flicked to mine, sharp and amused, like he enjoyed how riled up I was. He tilted his head, almost mocking. "I’m not saying anything more."

That smirk of his it set off. He was hiding sothing. No, not hiding. Flaunting. He wanted to wonder, to grind my teeth at the thought of what he and Cassian had just shared.

My fists tightened at my sides. I hated how easily Leonel got under my skin, how effortless he made it look. And I hated even more how Cassian’s red face and trembling hands wouldn’t leave my head.

"Fine," I said, forcing my voice steady even though irritation bubbled just beneath. "But don’t think I won’t figure it out. Cassian doesn’t look like that over sothing small."

Leonel’s grin widened like I’d given him exactly what he wanted. "Guess you’ll have to stay close if you want answers," he said, brushing past . His shoulder bumped mine deliberate, daring.

I stood there, watching him walk off, the air still thick with tension. Every instinct scread that I was being shut out, that Cassian was slipping between my fingers while Leonel tightened his grip.

But if Leonel thought I’d just stand by and watch him steal Cassian piece by piece, he was dead wrong.

When I walked back into class, Cassian was already seated, head ducked low, flipping through his notes like he hadn’t just run away from us. His ears were still red, betraying him no matter how much he pretended otherwise.

I slipped into the seat beside him, watching the way his hand trembled faintly as he scribbled sothing down. He didn’t look at , not once.

"Cassian," I whispered.

No reaction.

I leaned closer, lowering my voice. "You gonna keep ignoring , or should I drag the truth out of you?"

That got him. His pen froze mid-stroke, and for a second, his lashes lifted. His eyes t mine wide, startled, and... guilty. But before he could say anything, Leonel strolled in like he owned the place.

He didn’t even hesitate. He walked straight to Cassian, leaning down just enough to brush his hand against Cassian’s shoulder as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"Got space for ?" Leonel asked, voice smooth, though his eyes flicked to with a sharp glint that said it wasn’t really a question.

Cassian stuttered, "Uh - yeah, sure." He shifted his books to make room without thinking, like his body just obeyed him.

I clenched my jaw, biting back the urge to snap.

The lecture started, and I tried to focus, but my gaze kept drifting. Every ti Cassian needed help flipping through the heavy textbook, Leonel was there, his hand brushing Cassian’s as he turned the page. When Cassian dropped his pen, Leonel bent down first, scooping it up and placing it in his palm with a quiet smile.

I wanted to scream. Not because Leonel did those things but because Cassian let him. Because instead of turning to , the way he usually did, he accepted Leonel’s help without hesitation.

And yet, I noticed sothing else sothing that made my chest ache. Each ti Leonel leaned closer, Cassian’s shoulders tensed. His blush never seed to fade. He’d bite his lip, avoid Leonel’s gaze, but he wouldn’t push him away either.

What did that an?

Halfway through the lecture, Leonel leaned back, arm resting casually on the back of Cassian’s chair. He tilted his head, close enough that his breath could’ve ghosted over Cassian’s ear.

I saw Cassian’s spine stiffen. He glanced at quickly so quick anyone else would’ve missed it. Like he wanted to notice.

My nails dug into my palm under the desk.

Fine. ssage received.

The mont class ended, I stood before Leonel could move. My hand shot out, grabbing Cassian’s wrist firmly not harsh, but not giving him the option to pull away either.

"Let’s go," I said.

He blinked at , startled, looking between and Leonel. His lips parted like he wanted to protest, but the words never ca.

Leonel chuckled, low and mocking. "Careful, Aiden. You hold him like that, people might think you’re jealous."

I turned, eting his gaze dead-on. "Maybe I am."

The silence that followed was sharp, dangerous. Cassian’s breath hitched between us, caught in the middle of sothing he couldn’t na, while Leonel’s smirk deepened like he’d been waiting for to finally admit it.

And for the first ti, I realized this wasn’t just about Cassian anymore.

(Cassian’s POV)

Perfect, let’s dive deep into Cassian’s head here—showing his frustration, confusion, and the way he keeps comparing reality to the "drama script" he thought he knew. I’ll give you a 600-word continuation in Cassian’s POV that captures his spiraling thoughts, jealousy, and that gnawing pull toward both Leonel and Aiden.

Cassian’s POV (600 words)

This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.

If I closed my eyes, I could still rember every line of the drama the scenes that should’ve played out between Leonel and Aiden, with watching from the sidelines. I wasn’t ant to be the center. I was supposed to be the shadow, the complication, maybe even the obstacle. Leonel and Aiden’s story was the one that mattered.

But here I was... and sohow, I’d beco the thing between them.

Every glance, every word, every tug-of-war it always circled back to . Leonel glaring at Aiden, Aiden throwing sharp words at Leonel, and both of them looking at like I was the answer to a question I hadn’t even asked.

It twisted in my chest, that wrongness. Because I knew the story. I knew how it was ant to go. And yet... every ti Leonel’s voice dipped low, every ti Aiden’s hand lingered a little longer than it should, I found myself leaning in instead of pulling away.

"Jealous." That word still rang in my ears.

Leonel had admitted it, straight out. And Aiden, with that calm defiance, had t it with, What if I am?

If this were still the script, Leonel wouldn’t have said that. He was supposed to be reserved, cold, untouchable the man whose heart took seasons to thaw. And Aiden? He should’ve been the gentle anchor, the steady one who offered warmth in small doses. Their rivalry wasn’t supposed to be so sharp, so imdiate, and definitely not about .

It should’ve been Aiden him standing between us, choosing who to push away and who to let close. Him deciding who deserved to stand at his side. That’s how it was written. That’s how it was supposed to be.

So why... why did it feel like the roles had flipped?

Why was Leonel grabbing , pulling against lockers, kissing until my knees shook? Why was Aiden’s voice the one that broke through, claiming things he never should’ve claid, making feel wanted in ways the script never promised?

It was terrifying.

And addicting.

My heart wouldn’t stop racing when Leonel looked at like I was his. My skin wouldn’t stop burning when Aiden touched , grounding with that unshakable certainty of his. And ? I laughed, I teased, I acted like I didn’t care like I didn’t notice. But the truth was, I noticed everything. Every. Single. Thing.

I pressed a hand against my chest, trying to steady myself. My pulse thudded harder, mocking .

I shouldn’t want this. I shouldn’t like being caught in their tug-of-war. I should hate the tension, the possessiveness, the heat in Leonel’s eyes, the softness in Aiden’s voice when he said my na.

But I didn’t.

And maybe that was the cruelest part.

Because for all my knowledge of the script, all the warnings in my head that scread this was wrong, reality didn’t care. Reality didn’t follow the script. Reality had Leonel’s lips on mine, reality had Aiden’s jealousy twisting my insides, reality had standing in the middle exactly where I wasn’t supposed to be.

And I couldn’t run from it.

A laugh weak, broken slipped out of . "I’m screwed," I whispered under my breath.

Because no matter what the drama said, no matter how this story was supposed to unfold, I was trapped. My chest ached with the weight of it, but also with sothing frighteningly close to joy.

They weren’t supposed to love . They weren’t supposed to fight over .

But they did.

And I couldn’t bring myself to push either of them away.

Not yet.

Not when every look, every word, every touch left burning for more.