Lane | Victim of a joke

The university sighed with relief. Laughter echoed through the hallways, and the air was rich with the aroma of coffee. Winter exams were finally over, and the entire campus breathed easier. Freedom. The campus was electric, and at the center of it all? Some golden boy athlete throwing a party. Half the university would be there, and Lane was definitely going. Because Derek would be there.

Lane was a dreamer - a boy who lived more on the pages of novels than in the harsh reality of lecture halls. He believed in the lightning bolt of love at first sight, in the cosmic pull of two souls destined for each other. He spent nights imagining a love story so grand it could eclipse the moon, and in every one of them, the main character had Derek’s easy smile and kind eyes.

He all but floated into his dorm room, already playing cinematic fantasies in his head. Kai, his roommate, was sprawled lazily on his bed, scrolling through his phone. He glanced up, raising an eyebrow. “Big plans?”

“The grandest!” Lane chirped, his voice bubbling with barely contained excitement. He flung open his closet doors as if revealing a chest of treasure. “Post-exam party! It’s going to be legendary. You have to come!”

Kai shrugged lazily, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “Can’t. Got a date.”

Lane gasped, fingertips flying to his lips in a gesture of pure, unfiltered delight. “A date? Oh, Kai, how romantic.” He sighed wistfully. He wanted that. He wanted stolen glances, the brush of hands, the world narrowing to two people. He could already see it: he’d arrive at the party, a little shy, a little mysterious. Their eyes would meet across the crowded room—spark, pull. A slow dance, a quiet corner, a breathless confession whispered into his ear, and then... a kiss. A kiss that would decide their fate.

Lane shook himself out of his daydream, heat rising up his neck. First, the outfit. He pulled out black trousers, then a floral-print shirt. Too flashy. A blouse with a deep V-neck. Too desperate. Finally, he settled on a simple, elegant black turtleneck. Safe. He slipped it on and stared at his reflection. It was... fine. Boring. On a sudden impulse, he reached for the small gold clip-on earrings he rarely wore. A tiny spark of rebellion. A touch of starlight for his prince.

“Hey,” Kai said, his voice suddenly serious, pulling Lane from his thoughts. “Be careful tonight, Lane. I mean it. Watch your drink.”

Lane barely heard him. He was already out the door.

The house throbbed with the bass of the music, like a living creature. Lane slipped inside, the heat and sweat of the dancing crowd hitting him in stark contrast to the cold night outside. He felt small, nameless, until his eyes swept the room and found him. Derek. Surrounded by friends, the effortless star of his own universe. Tall, handsome, the campus golden boy, laughing at some shared joke.

Then, as if by magic, one of Derek’s friends glanced over, a sly smile curling on his lips. He nodded toward Lane. Derek turned his head. His eyes, those kind, beautiful eyes, met Lane’s.

The world stopped. The music dulled. The crowd melted into haze. Lane’s breath caught, like a deer frozen in the blinding headlights of fate. He watched Derek say something to his friends, an easy smile on his lips, before moving. Coming toward him.

“Hey. Glad you came,” Derek’s voice was softer than Lane had imagined. “Want a drink?”

Lane thought he might combust on the spot. He fluttered his eyelashes, looking at Derek as though he alone had hung the stars in the sky. “Uh... yeah. Soda, please?” he stammered, his smile trembling and unsure.

Derek nodded and disappeared into the crowd. A minute later, he was back with two bottles of beer. “They’re out of soda. Got us beer, sunshine,” he said, handing one to Lane.

Sunshine. The pet name lodged in Lane’s chest and burst into a thousand glittering stars. The rest of the night passed like a dream. They danced, their bodies moving closer in the heat of the crowd. They flirted, Derek’s playful words enchanting Lane’s fragile heart. Every laugh, every touch, every glance was another paragraph in the love story Lane had been writing his whole life. This was it. This was real. Happiness was tangible, warm, intoxicating and finally, it was his.

At some point, Derek excused himself and slipped away. Lane waited on a sagging couch, sipping his now-warm beer and replaying every perfect moment in his mind. The beer tasted flat, so he decided to find something better, something worthy of the night his life was changing.

He found the kitchen: a chaotic scene of empty cups and abandoned plates. On the center island stood an unopened bottle of wine. Perfect wine. As he reached for it, his sleeve snagged on his earring, yanking it from his ear. The earring clattered to the floor, its faint sound lost in the thrum of the house. Lane crouched, fingertips searching the sticky tile. That’s when he heard voices from the other side of the island. Derek’s voice.

“So, how much is in the pot now?”

Lane froze, his body hidden by the cabinets. He clapped a hand over his mouth, desperate to stifle the gasp clawing its way out.

“Almost six hundred bucks,” another voice replied, rough and mocking. “Four to one you get that little freak in bed before sunrise.”

Freak. The word landed like a physical blow.

Laughter. Derek’s laughter. Not the charming sound Lane had fallen for. This was cruel, dismissive. “Nah, not fucking him. Too gross. Just gotta get him naked — that’s enough to win.”

The voices faded as the group moved away, leaving a silence in the kitchen louder than any music. Behind the kitchen island, Lane’s world shattered. The beautiful romance he’d been living was ripped to pieces, revealed for what it truly was: a cruel, mocking game. The starlight in his chest went out, leaving only a cold, hollow ache. This wasn’t heartbreak, it was detonation. It was as if an ice shard had been driven into his chest. He wasn’t an object of desire. He was a joke. A bet.

Hot, stinging tears blurred his vision. He bolted to his feet and ran. He didn’t see the people he shoved aside, didn’t hear their protests. He was running from the monster, from the horrifying truth chasing him. He burst through the first door he saw, a bathroom and slammed it shut.

Lane ripped the second earring from his ear and hurled it against the wall. He gripped the edges of the sink. He stared at his reflection the tear-streaked face, the trembling lips, the wide, terror-filled eyes of a boy who had dared to dream.

“Why?” he choked, the word breaking into a sob. “Why can’t you just be normal?” He spat the words at the pathetic creature in the mirror. “You freak.”

The dam burst. A ragged sob tore out of him. Lane slid down the wall, curling into a tight ball on the cold, unyielding floor. He wrapped his arms around himself, trying to hold together the shards of his broken heart, but it was no use. He sat there, wrecked, lost in the ruins of a fairytale that had never been real.