A little slow on the uptake, Serra needed some time to process what was actually going on, stuck in the deluded fantasy that this couldn't possibly be happening right now. It couldn't be some bad joke as no one had that terrible of a sense of humor, but that left one option: Malcolm actually cheating on her. Why he would ever do that made no sense to her, she knew he liked her, showing her off proudly and showering her with attention. "It's complicated? It's complicated?!" Her voice grew louder, anger and frustration obvious. He didn't deny it. He called Charity crazy, yes, but he didn't call her a liar. That distinction was important to her. Her world turned upside down again, stuck in a nightmare version of the present. Her boyfriend cheated on her and then submitted her to public humiliation. "You were gonna tell me? When? After you slept with me too?" Tears built up in her eyes again. This was truly the worst day of her whole fifteen years of life. "We're done. I'm breaking up with you." Turning to Charity she didn't bother hiding the hatred in her eyes rolling her eyes when she talked about them deserving each other. She deserved better than this and she wasn't going to let him keep playing her for a fool. "Yeah I don't want him anymore. Have fun with my leftovers. I know that's why you wanted him in the first place. Can't be like me so you try taking what's mine. Well you got him. Congratulations."
Malcolm was drowning in a self-made hell. He focused on Serra, her nose clearly destroyed, while desperately trying to extricate himself from the chaos he'd ignited. Charity, a ghost from his disastrous final year, stood opposite. The engagement contract, a desperate, callus-forming grasp at a solution, had trapped him. He needed Serra to leave him, to buy time to dismantle that contract—time and resources he didn't have within these cursed castle walls. His solution, a twisted logic, had been to engineer a breakup, something more dramatic than a simple "it's over." He'd known Serra wouldn't accept the truth. So, he'd manipulated, leading him to a hidden alcove with Charity. He hadn't intended to sleep with her, that intimacy reserved for Serra. But things spiraled, and now, here he was.
He struggled to rein in his panic, to find some semblance of sense, but a blinding pain erupted in his jaw. "You're fucking crazy,-" he said, too distracted now by his own pain that his hand clutched at that he didn't even hear her at first. Shit. Malcolm was glaring over Serra at Charity, and the raw ache in Serra's tone softened his own anger. "It's-it's complicated-I was going to tell you-"
She hid her face in his chest, embarrassment taking over. How could he find her attractive once he saw her like this? This was a disaster! Her life was supposed to be perfect and this was an absolute mess. "She's crazy stalker obsessed with you! She said you two hooked up...but you wouldn't cheat on me..." Serra was still half crying and hiding her face between her hands so he couldn't see the bloody nose, trying to rack her mind for a spell to get rid off blood but she'd never had to use that before so she came up empty. "Wait it's like you're crazy stalker obsessed with me! Did you do this to get back at me?" Serra let out a yelp of pain when Charity threw her on the floor. Gasping in shock when Charity hit Malcolm, not his face! It was his best feature! They had that in common, that was why they photographed so well together. The more time passed the less like a lie it seemed. Could it be true? Could he actually have cheated on her? With Charity of all people? She stood up, her head a little dizzy from the quick motion and she caught her stumble. "Shut up charity case!" Turning back to Malcolm, once again hiding the lower half of her face so he wouldn't look at her bloody nose, she continued. "Just tell me this is all a bad joke. That this-" she pointed between him and Charity. -didn't happen."
Malcolm was walking back from class with friends when a commotion erupted down the corridor. A surge of students rushed forward, forming a tight circle. He overheard someone shout, "Girls fighting!" and quickened his pace. This wasn't a common occurrence, and he wasn't about to miss it.
The sight of Charity and Serra locked in a fight was the last thing Malcolm expected. He shoved through the crowd, muttering curses as they shouldered against him. This moment was torn from a nightmare. He'd justified his cheating, but never imagined this—a public confrontation. He'd planned to tell Serra on his own terms, when he was ready. That moment, that control, had been stolen from him. Then Serra was in his arms, and instinct took over. His eyes scanned her face, searching for injury. He spotted the smear of blood and his gaze snapped to Charity, a cold tension settling in. "What the fuck is happening?" he demanded, pulling Serra close. A sliver of denial flickered; maybe this wasn't about him at all. Now he didn't feel as excited about girls fighting when they were his girls-no, just Serra. Malcolm's chin raised to glare at the other onlookers. "Well, get fucking lost-nothing to see-"