Chapter Four: Consequence

By the next morning, everybody at Blackthorne College had already seen the video.

Somebody had uploaded at least four different angles of Nathan beating Tristan Mercer half to death at the penthouse party, and now the entire school was treating it like premium entertainment.

Nathan walked through campus with Kelly beside him while whispers followed from every direction.

“Did you see Tristan’s face?”

“Nathan Laurent is actually insane.”

“He looked so hot fighting though.”

“I heard Tristan needed a bunch of stitches.”

“They were always one argument away from killing each other.”

“Honestly Tristan deserved it. He's always copying Nathan, always in his one-sided competition. He copied Nathan with that penthouse party anyway.”

“Yeah, but Nathan went too far this time.”

“Nah, did you see the way Tristan was talking?”

Students openly stared as Nathan passed by. Some looked horrified. Others looked impressed.

A group of girls near the fountain literally stopped walking just to watch him move across campus.

Nathan ignored all of it. His sunglasses hid the exhaustion in his eyes while one hand stayed shoved into his pocket.

Kelly walked beside him scrolling through his phone.

“Oh my God,” Kelly muttered. “Someone posted slowed-down edits of the fight.”

Nathan stayed silent.

Kelly kept reading anyway.

“Okay this comment says— and I quote—‘Nathan Laurent defending Professor Hale like a devoted guard dog is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.’”

Nathan sighed.

“Another person said— and I quote— ‘Tristan should’ve kept Professor Hale’s name out of his mouth, everyone knows that hot professor is Nathan's current religion.’”

“Kelly.”

“And this one says—”

“Kelly.”

“Someone literally wrote, ‘I’d let Nathan beat me unconscious—’”

“Shut up.”

Kelly finally looked up from his phone.

There was a bruise forming across Nathan’s knuckles this morning. Angry red against pale skin.

“You know,” Kelly said carefully, “you really didn’t have to beat him that badly. I mean, I get you were angry, you get into fights almost everyday, but that was intense. It could have gone south if you punched his throat and—”

Nathan kept walking. “I could swear I just told you to shut up.”

Kelly sighed quietly.

The air between them became tense for a few seconds before Kelly spoke again.

“There are rumors that the school admin summoned you.”

Nathan let out a humorless laugh. “Not rumors. They emailed me earlier.”

Kelly winced. “That bad?”

“Probably.”

Neither of them spoke again after that. The Behavioral Science building looked unusually quiet this morning, like even the walls had heard about the fight.

Students openly watched Nathan as he entered the hallway leading toward the administration offices. Some moved out of his way instinctively.

Kelly stopped near the office doors. “You want me to wait here?”

Nathan shrugged. “Do whatever you want.”

“I’ll wait.”

Nathan glanced at him briefly before walking forward.

And almost immediately, the administration office door opened.

Professor Vincent Hale stepped out.

Nathan slowed slightly.

Prof. Vincent looked exhausted. Dark circles sat faintly beneath his eyes like he hadn’t slept much. His sleeves were rolled neatly to his forearms as usual, tattoos visible beneath the fabric.

For a second neither of them spoke.

Then Nathan smirked faintly. “Morning, professor.”

Prof. Vincent didn’t answer. Instead, he stepped closer and grabbed Nathan’s right hand before Nathan could react.

Nathan blinked, stunted at the sudden physical touch.

Prof. Vincent turned his bruised knuckles slightly under the hallway lights, studying the damage silently.

His hands were warm. Nathan hated that he noticed that.

“Why did you do that?” Prof. Vincent asked quietly.

Nathan frowned slightly. “What do you mean? I get into fights almost every day.”

Prof. Vincent finally looked at him, in the eyes.

“Your daily little fights don’t get you called into administration offices.” His voice stayed calm. “Why did you do that?”

Nathan opened his mouth automatically. Then stopped.

Because suddenly saying it out loud sounded stupid, childish, and oddly possessive.

Still, he answered anyway. “He called you a predator.”

Prof. Vincent’s brows tightened slightly. “What?”

Nathan looked away first.

“He said you fuck your students.” His voice sounded quieter now. “He said you’re a predator.” He swallowed once before continuing. “He said the reason I pass your class is because you bend me over your desk.”

Silence.

Students moved through the hallway around them, but Nathan barely noticed anymore.

Prof. Vincent stared at him for a long moment.

Then finally said, “That’s not a valid reason.”

Nathan blinked. “What?”

“Administration won’t find your reason valid.”

The words hit harder than they should have.

Before Nathan could respond, Mr Hale released his hand, opened the office door, and walked inside.

Nathan stared after him for half a second before following.

The administration office felt suffocatingly formal.

Three members of Blackthorne’s disciplinary board sat waiting near the long conference table. Dean Whitmore sat at the center looking deeply exhausted already.

Nathan dropped lazily into one of the chairs like he didn’t care. Even though his chest suddenly felt tight.

“Nathaniel Laurent,” Dean Whitmore began heavily, “do you understand the severity of last night’s incident?”

Nathan leaned back slightly. “I assume this speech means yes.”

One of the women at the table looked irritated immediately. “This isn’t a joke.”

“No shit.”

Dean Whitmore slid a folder across the table.

Photos from the party sat clipped inside.

There's blood, broken glass, and Tristan unconscious on the floor.

Nathan’s jaw tightened slightly.

“Tristan Mercer is currently hospitalized,” the dean continued. “Blackthorne College has spent the entire morning speaking with his parents and legal representatives.”

Nathan stayed silent.

“The footage from the party is everywhere online now,” another administrator added. “Do you understand how serious this situation has become for the school?”

Still, he remained silent.

“Nathaniel.” Prof. Vincent’s voice cut through the room calmly.

Nathan finally looked up.

Prof. Vincent stood near the wall with his arms crossed loosely over his chest. Calm as always.

“Answer the question,” Prof. Vincent said.

Nathan looked away again. “Yes.”

The dean sighed tiredly. “Given the violence displayed in those videos, the administration is considering immediate expulsion.”