<h4>Chapter 195: Unexpected celebration...</h4>


    <strong>Charis</strong>


    We burst through Rhett’s bedroom door, my heart pounding with fear. Kael was right behind me, ter at my side. I was expecting to find Rhett copsed on the floor, clutching his chest, maybe unconscious—


    <i>POP!</i>


    A loud sound exploded in the air, and suddenly, colourful paper flowers were raining down on us. Metallic confetti spiralled through the air, catching the light. More pops followed. Party poppers were going off one after another, filling the room with a cascade of decorations.


    "SURPRISE!" voices shouted in unison.


    A trumpet red—badly, off-key, but enthusiastically. Someone was actually ying a trumpet in Rhett’s bedroom.


    I stood frozen in the doorway, trying to process what I was seeing. The room was packed with people. Students from Ravenshore—I recognised Marcus, Peter, and several others from the Academy. Some first-years I’d seen around. Even a few people I didn’t know at all.


    And in the centre of it all was Rhett, standing on his bed with the biggest grin on his face, perfectly healthy and very much not dying.


    Before I could react, someone rushed forward and ced a ridiculous cone-shaped birthday hat on Kael’s head. Another person—Peter, I think—thrust arge cake into Kael’s hands. It was decorated with blue frosting and had candles already lit.


    Then everyone started singing.


    "Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you!"


    I turned to look at Kael. His expression was absolutely murderous. He stood there in the doorway, holding the cake, wearing the stupid birthday hat, while confetti continued to rain down on his head. His eyes were fixed on ter and Rhett with a re that could have melted steel.


    ter and Rhett wereughing so hard they were practically crying. They were singing along with everyone else, but they could barely get the words out between fits ofughter.


    "Happy birthday, dear Kael! Happy birthday to you!"


    The song ended with enthusiastic cheering and pping.


    "Make a wish!" someone shouted.


    "Blow out the candles!" another voice called.


    Kael didn’t move. He just stood there, the cake trembling slightly in his hands, whether from anger or embarrassment, I couldn’t tell.


    "I am not in the mood for this," he said tly.


    He started to march toward Rhett’s desk, clearly intending to set the cake down and leave. But the crowd moved with him, blocking his path—a wall of people formed between Kael and his escape route.


    "Blow it! Blow it! Blow it!" they started chanting.


    Kael’s jaw clenched. I could see a muscle twitching in his cheek. He muttered something under his breath. It sounded like "I’m going to kill them both", followed by "Why did I agree to be friends with idiots", and possibly "The ground should just open up and swallow me whole."


    His face was turning red. Not from anger anymore, but from pure mortification. Kael, who was always soposed and controlled, looked like he wanted to disappear into thin air.


    "Blow it! Blow it! Blow it!"


    The chanting grew louder. Marcus started pping in rhythm with it. Peter joined in. Soon, everyone was pping and chanting, and Kael was trapped in the middle with nowhere to run.


    "Please," I heard him mutter. "Just let me leave. I don’t need this. I’ve never needed this."


    But the crowd wasn’t having it.


    "BLOW IT! BLOW IT! BLOW IT!"


    Finally, with a long-suffering sigh that seemed toe from the depths of his soul, Kael closed his eyes and blew out the candles in one breath.


    The room erupted in cheers. People pped, whistled, and the trumpet yed again, still poorly, but with feeling.


    Someone mercifully took the cake from Kael’s hands. He reached up to remove the birthday hat, but ter appeared out of nowhere and caught his wrist.


    "Oh no," ter said, grinning wickedly. "The hat stays on. We’re not done yet."


    Kael’s eyes widened with something close to panic. "What do you mean by ’not done’?"


    "We have a special program prepared," Rhett announced, climbing down from the bed. He was still grinning like this was the best night of his life. "A tribute to our dear friend Kael, who does so much for everyone and never lets anyone do anything for him."


    "No," Kael said firmly. "Absolutely not."


    "Toote!" ter dered. "First up, we have testimonials from some first-years who wanted to share how Kael has impacted their lives."


    A small group of first-years stepped forward, looking nervous but determined. They were holding what looked like handwritten notes.


    Kael looked like he wanted to die. "Please don’t do this."


    But they did it anyway.


    The first kid—a skinny boy with sses who couldn’t have been more than fifteen—cleared his throat. "Um, hi. I’m Daniel. I just wanted to say that Kael helped me when I first got to Ravenshore. I was getting bullied by some older students, and they took my books and threw them in the fountain. I was crying, and Kael saw me. He didn’t say much. He just went and got my books out of the water, dried them off with some technique I didn’t understand, and handed them back to me. Then he stared at the bullies until they apologised. So, um, thank you, Kael. You’re really cool."


    Light apuse. Kael’s face was nowpletely red. He was staring at the floor like he could bore a hole through it with his eyes.


    The next student stepped forward—a girl with curly hair. "I’m Maya. Kael helped me when I failed my practical examst semester. I was going to have to repeat the year, and I was so stressed I couldn’t eat or sleep. Kael found me in the library at like two in the morning, and he sat down and exined the concepts I was struggling with. He didn’t make me feel stupid or rush me. He just... helped. Because of him, I passed my makeup exam. So thank you, Kael."


    More apuse. Kael had his eyes closed now, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. I could practically feel the embarrassment radiating off him in waves.


    Three more first-years went by, each with their own story of how Kael had quietly helped them when they were struggling, how he’d stopped a fight, how he’d lent someone money for books without expecting it back, how he’d scared off someone’s abusive ex-boyfriend, how he’d stayed up all night helping someone prepare for an important test.


    Every story made Kael look more ufortable. By the time they finished, he looked like he’d been through a war.


    "See?" Rhett said, throwing an arm around Kael’s shoulders. "You’re loved, man. Deal with it."


    "I hate you," Kael muttered. "I hate you so much right now."


    "You love us," ter chirped. "Admit it."


    Kael just red at him.


    "Alright, everyone!" ter announced, addressing the room. "Let’s take this celebration to the garden! More space, fresh air, and I think the kitchen staff prepared some food and drinks for us."


    Everyone cheered and started filing out of the bedroom. The trumpet yer, whom I finally saw, was one of the music students from Ravenshore, and he yed a few more enthusiastic notes as he left.


    I started to follow the crowd, grateful to escape the chaos, but I felt a hand catch mine.


    I turned to find Marcus standing there. He’d held back while everyone else left, and now we were alone in Rhett’s bedroom—just the two of us.


    "Marcus—" I started, but he pulled me toward him before I could finish.


    He wrapped his arms around me in a tight hug, pulling me against his chest. I stiffened immediately and tried to push him away.


    "Marcus, let go—"


    "Please," he said softly. "Just... just give me a minute."


    I struggled for a few seconds, but he wasn’t hurting me, just holding on, and I realised I was wasting my energy. So I stopped fighting and just stood there stiffly in his embrace.


    After what felt like forever, he finally pulled back. His hands came up to cup my face, and he looked at me with those earnest brown eyes.


    "I’m sorry," he said. "For everything. For how I reacted when I found out you were Eamon. For the things I said. For making you feel like you’d done something wrong when you were trying to survive."


    "Marcus, it’s fine—"


    "No, it’s not fine," he interrupted. "I was an ass. I let my shock and confusion turn into anger, and I took it out on you. That wasn’t fair."


    I felt ufortable being this close to him, having this conversation. "I forgive you, okay? It’s forgotten. Let’s move on—"


    "I’m not done," Marcus said. He was still holding my face, keeping me from looking away. "I’ve had time to think about everything. About you. About us. About what I want."


    "Marcus—"


    He suddenly dropped to one knee.


    My heart stopped. "What are you doing?"


    "I know this is probably terrible timing," he said, reaching into his pocket. "I know everything isplicated right now. But I can’t keep pretending I don’t feel what I feel."


    He pulled out a small velvet box.


    "Marcus, no—"


    He opened it.