Sweet Hatred Chapter 392: Invisible

The party was Aria’s idea.

She’d been talking about it for weeks, so off-campus house party thrown by seniors, the kind of event that promised cheap beer and crowded rooms and music loud enough to feel in your chest.

I had no interest in going. Parties were exhausting, full of social calculations and forced interactions that required too much energy to maintain.

But Aria wanted there.

"Co on," she’d said, sprawled across my dorm bed while I pretended to study. "You can’t spend every Friday night in this room. Live a little."

"I am living."

"You’re existing. There’s a difference." She rolled onto her stomach, chin propped on her hands. "Please? I’ll make it worth your while. I’ll buy you boba after. The expensive one."

I’d looked at her then, at the way her eyes went soft when she asked for things, like my answer actually mattered to her. Like I mattered.

"Fine."

Her whole face lit up. "Really?"

"One hour. That’s it."

"Deal!" She’d launched herself off the bed to hug , and I’d stood there stiffly, not quite sure what to do with my hands.

That was three days ago.

Now we were here, standing on the porch of a house that vibrated with bass, and I was already regretting my decision.

"Ready?" Aria grinned at , adjusting the crop top she’d borrowed from soone down our hall.

I wasn’t ready. But I nodded anyway.

The mont we walked through the door, it started.

"Aria! Oh my god, you ca!" A girl I vaguely recognized from our English class materialized out of the crowd, pulling Aria into a hug. Then another person, and another, until Aria was surrounded by a small crowd of people who all seed to know her, all seed to have been waiting for her arrival.

I stood next to her, one step back, and watched it happen.

A guy with a backwards cap offered her a drink. Soone else asked if she’d heard about the drama in the English departnt.

A girl with blue hair wanted to know if Aria was still seeing that senior from last month.

Everyone talked over each other, competing for her attention, and Aria just laughed and kept up with all of them sohow, her energy never flagging.

I might as well have been furniture.

No one looked at . No one asked my na. When I tried to add sothing to the conversation, so comnt about the English drama, my voice got swallowed by soone else’s louder observation, and no one noticed I’d spoken at all.

A girl in red bumped into , muttered a distracted "sorry" without looking. I said nothing. I just watched. Aria had that rare kind of warmth that made people forget their manners and their limits.

This is what it was always like.

She pulled people into her orbit without trying, and I beca the shadow at the edge of her light. Present but invisible. There but not seen.

After twenty minutes, I found a corner near the kitchen and stayed there, nursing a beer I didn’t want, watching.

I continued watching as soone approached her around eleven.

Tall guy, athletic build, the kind of face that probably got him everything he wanted. He’d been circling her for the past hour, working his way closer through the crowd until he finally made contact. His hand landed on her lower back, familiar, presumptuous.

Aria’s spine went rigid.

"Hey beautiful." His voice carried even over the music. "You look lonely. Let fix that."

"I’m not lonely." Aria’s tone had gone flat. Dangerous. "And you should move your hand."

"Co on, don’t be like that." He leaned in closer, and I could see his fingers pressing into her side. "I just want to talk."

"No, you don’t." Aria turned to face him fully, and sothing in her expression made him take a half-step back. "You want to put your hands on soone who doesn’t want them there. That’s different."

"Jesus, relax—"

"Get the fuck away from ."

Her voice cut through the noise like a blade. People nearby stopped talking, turned to watch.

The guy’s face flushed red, embarrassnt turning quickly to anger.

"Fucking slut," he muttered, but he backed away, hands raised in mock surrender.

His friends were watching from across the room. One of them laughed. "Damn, dude. She’s savage."

"For real though," another one added. "I like that. She’s got fire."

They were looking at her differently now. Not deterred. Intrigued. Like her rejection had made her more interesting instead of less.

A girl nearby whispered to her friend: "She’s so real. Like, she doesn’t take shit from anyone."

And just like that, Aria had beco more magnetic. More interesting to them. Even her anger made her desirable.

I felt it then, that subtle, twisting ache beneath my ribs. Not jealousy exactly. Not yet. Sothing quieter. Colder.

I stood there, watching her glow. Watching people orbit her like she was the sun.

And I was just... shadow. The shape beside her that no one ever really saw.

Every laugh she gave, every glance that wasn’t for , felt like a thread pulling further away from my grasp. The room felt smaller, the air too hot, the music pounding in my skull like a pulse I couldn’t match.

I wondered what it would be like, to be her.

I watched her for the rest of the night.

I thought about her skin. How smooth it looked, how golden under the party lights. I thought about what it would be like to peel it back, strip by strip, and wrap it around myself like a coat. Would they see then?

Would I finally beco the thing they couldn’t look away from?

The thought should have disturbed . Back then, thoughts like that had been a sign I was "regressing," that I needed my dication adjusted.

But this felt different. Clearer. Like I was finally being honest with myself about what I wanted.

I didn’t want to hurt Aria.

I wanted to be her.

To slip beneath her skin, to wear her smile, to walk into a room and have every head turn because you existed.

What would it take?

If I peeled her open, piece by piece... took what she had and tucked it into myself, would they finally see ?

Would she still love then?

Because lately, I’d started to fear that love wasn’t enough.

That maybe it never had been.