The morning sun cast long shadows across Houston University's manicured lawns, but Gerald barely noticed as he trudged toward the main building. A week had passed since his breakdown, and the fog that had clouded his judgment for months was finally lifting. His reflection in the dormitory mirror that morning had shown him someone he barely recognized—hollow-eyed, wearing clothes that weren't his, carrying himself with an arrogance that felt foreign on his shoulders.
He'd thrown Xavier's designer jacket in the trash that morning, pulled on his old, faded jeans and a simple t-shirt. The fabric felt rough against his skin after weeks of silk and cashmere, but it felt honest. Real.
The campus buzzed with its usual morning energy—students in their luxury cars pulling up to the parking lots, designer bags slung over shoulders, the constant hum of privilege that had once made him feel so out of place. Now, it just felt exhausting.
"Gerald!" Clinton's voice cut through the morning chatter. His best friend jogged up, slightly out of breath, concern etched across his features. "Man, you look... different."
Gerald managed a weak smile. "I feel different."
"Good different or bad different?" Clinton fell into step beside him, studying his friend's face. "Because honestly, dude, you've been acting weird for weeks. Like, really weird."
The weight of his recent behavior crashed down on Gerald's shoulders. The way he'd spoken to people, the dismissive comments, the constant need to prove himself worthy of Alice's attention. It made his stomach churn.
"Bad different," Gerald admitted quietly. "Really bad different."
They walked in comfortable silence for a moment before Clinton spoke again. "This is about Alice, isn't it?"
Gerald's step faltered. Alice. The name alone sent a complex mix of emotions through him—attraction, shame, longing, and something darker he didn't want to name. "Among other things."
"Look, I don't know what's been going on with you lately, but you've been trying so hard to be someone else that you forgot who you actually are." Clinton's voice carried the weight of months of observation. "The Gerald I know doesn't care about brand names or expensive restaurants. He cares about people."
They reached the main building, and Gerald caught sight of Alice near the entrance. She stood with a group of her usual crowd—all perfectly dressed, all carrying themselves with the effortless confidence that came from never having to worry about money. Her dark hair caught the light, and even from a distance, he could see why people called her the beauty goddess of the school.
But when their eyes met across the courtyard, there was nothing but cold indifference in her gaze.
"I need to talk to her," Gerald said, more to himself than to Clinton.
"Gerald, maybe you should—"
But Gerald was already walking away, his heart pounding with each step. The group noticed his approach, and he could see the subtle shift in their postures—the way they drew slightly closer to Alice, forming an unconscious protective barrier.
"Alice," he said as he reached them, his voice steadier than he felt. "Can we talk?"
She looked at him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. "I don't think there's anything to discuss."
"Please. Just five minutes."
Yuri, standing beside Alice, stepped forward slightly. "She said no, Gerald. Maybe you should respect that."
Gerald's jaw tightened, but he forced himself to remain calm. "I wasn't talking to you, Yuri."
"Well, I'm talking to you." Yuri's voice carried the casual menace of someone who'd never had to back down from a fight they couldn't win. "Alice doesn't want to talk to you. Take the hint."
"It's okay, Yuri." Alice's voice was cool, controlled. "I can handle this myself."
She stepped away from the group, and Gerald felt a surge of hope. They walked a few steps away, near a stone bench beneath one of the old oak trees that dotted the campus.
"What do you want, Gerald?" Alice asked, her arms crossed.
"I want to apologize." The words came out in a rush. "For everything. For the way I've been acting, for trying to be someone I'm not, for—"
"For thinking you could buy your way into my life?" Alice's voice was sharp, cutting through his rambling apology. "For assuming that wearing expensive clothes and taking me to overpriced restaurants would make me forget who you really are?"
Gerald flinched. "That's not—"
"That's exactly what it was." Alice's eyes flashed with anger. "You thought you could play dress-up and I'd fall for it. You thought you could pretend to be like Danny or Yuri or any of the others, and I'd be impressed."
"I just wanted—"
"You wanted to use me." The words hit him like a physical blow. "You wanted to prove something to yourself, to everyone else. But you never once asked what I wanted."
Gerald stared at her, the truth of her words settling in his chest like a stone. "Alice, I—"
"You what? You're sorry?" She laughed, but there was no humor in it. "You're sorry you got caught. You're sorry your little performance didn't work. But you're not sorry for trying to manipulate me."
"That's not fair—"
"Isn't it?" Alice stepped closer, her voice dropping to a whisper that somehow felt more threatening than if she'd been shouting. "You think I didn't notice? The way you suddenly started caring about brands, about expensive dinners, about all the things you used to mock? You think I'm stupid?"
Gerald felt his world crumbling around him. "I never thought you were stupid. I thought... I thought I wasn't good enough for you."
"You weren't." The words were delivered with surgical precision. "But not because of your clothes or your car or your bank account. You weren't good enough because you were willing to throw away everything that made you decent just to impress someone."
She turned to walk away, and Gerald reached out, almost touching her arm before stopping himself. "Alice, wait. Please."
She paused but didn't turn around. "What?"
"I know I messed up. I know I hurt you, and I'm sorry. But I'm trying to be better. I'm trying to be myself again."
"Good for you." Her voice was flat, emotionless. "But I'm not going to be your redemption project. I'm not going to stand around waiting for you to figure out who you are."
She walked away, leaving Gerald standing alone under the oak tree, the weight of his failures pressing down on him.
From across the courtyard, Naomi watched the entire exchange with growing concern. She'd been trying to stay out of the drama, but seeing Gerald's devastated expression and Alice's cold departure made her heart ache for both of them.
"This is getting ridiculous," she muttered to herself, walking over to where Gerald stood.
"Hey," she said softly, approaching him carefully. "You okay?"
Gerald looked up at her, and she was surprised to see tears in his eyes. "I really screwed up, didn't I?"
"Yeah," Naomi said gently. "You did."
"She hates me."
"She doesn't hate you." Naomi sat down on the bench, patting the space beside her. "She's hurt. And angry. But she doesn't hate you."
Gerald sank down beside her, running his hands through his dark, curly hair. "I don't know how to fix this."
"Maybe you can't," Naomi said honestly. "Maybe some things can't be fixed."
"That's not what I want to hear."
"But it's what you need to hear." Naomi turned to face him fully. "Gerald, for the past few weeks, you've been trying to become someone else. Someone you thought Alice would want. But you never asked if that someone was worth becoming."
Gerald was quiet for a long moment. "I just wanted to be enough."
"You were enough," Naomi said firmly. "You were always enough. The problem was you didn't believe it."
Across the courtyard, Danny had been watching the entire drama unfold with interest. He'd noticed the tension between Gerald and Alice for weeks, had seen Gerald's pathetic attempts to reinvent himself, and had been waiting for the right moment to make his move.
This looked like that moment.
He adjusted his expensive watch, ran a hand through his dark hair, and walked over to where Alice stood with her friends. She looked shaken, despite her cold demeanor during the conversation with Gerald.
"Alice," he said, his voice smooth and confident. "You look like you could use a coffee. Want to get out of here?"
She looked up at him, and he saw something flicker in her eyes—relief, maybe, or gratitude for the distraction.
"Actually," she said, "that sounds perfect."
Danny smiled, the kind of smile that had charmed countless people before her. "Great. I know a place."
As they walked away together, Gerald looked up from his conversation with Naomi just in time to see them leaving. Alice's hand wasn't quite touching Danny's arm, but the distance between them was minimal, intimate in a way that made Gerald's chest tighten.
"Don't," Naomi said quietly, following his gaze. "Don't torture yourself."
"She's already moving on," Gerald said, his voice barely above a whisper.
"She's getting coffee with a friend," Naomi corrected. "There's a difference."
But even as she said it, Naomi felt a chill of unease. She knew Danny well enough to recognize the predatory gleam in his eyes, the way he'd circled around Alice's pain like a shark scenting blood in the water.
"I should talk to her," Gerald said, starting to stand.
"No." Naomi's voice was firm. "You should leave her alone. You've done enough damage."
Gerald slumped back down, defeated. "So what do I do now?"
"You figure out who you are," Naomi said. "The real you. Not the version you think Alice wants, not the version you think will impress people, but the actual Gerald that Clinton and I became friends with."
"And if that's not enough?"
"Then at least you'll be honest about it." Naomi stood up, brushing off her skirt. "And Gerald? Being honest about who you are is always better than being successful at pretending to be someone else."
She walked away, leaving Gerald alone with his thoughts and the growing realization that he might have lost Alice forever—not because he wasn't rich enough or handsome enough or sophisticated enough, but because he'd been too much of a coward to simply be himself.
The morning sun continued its climb across the sky, and the campus continued its rhythm of privilege and ambition, but for Gerald, everything had changed. He was back to being himself, but himself felt smaller now, diminished by the knowledge of what he'd been willing to sacrifice for something that had never been real to begin with.
In the distance, he could see Danny's expensive car pulling out of the parking lot, Alice in the passenger seat, and he wondered if this was how it felt to watch your entire world drive away without you.