Cutting Off The Devil

The year we entered high school, Timothy stood against the light, eyes shining as he said to me, "Cecil, one day I'm going to become a mathematician and solve problems no one has ever cracked. I'll bring honor to our country."

The boy back then was bright-eyed and full of spirit.

"Alright. Let's work hard together," I said with a smile, bumping fists with him.

I thought we would keep walking side by side like that, chasing the same goal all the way forward.

That was until he met Lucy Quinn.

Lucy was a dance student. Unlike us quiet, introverted nerds who only knew how to grind through problem sets, she was bold, bright, and confident. Her figure could be seen everywhere on campus, and she was famously popular.

The first time I heard the name Lucy was during the provincial ballet competition.

As the school's representative, she took first place.

That day, she wore a pristine white ballet dress, and congratulatory posters were plastered all over campus.

"Let's go home, Timothy. What are you staring at?" I patted the dazed Timothy beside me and followed his gaze straight to Lucy's award notice.

"Oh? You like her? You have some good taste, it seems," I teased.

"No, I don't," he muttered, but his burning red ears betrayed him.

"Alright, alright, you don't," I replied casually, not thinking much of it.

Who didn't have a crush during adolescence? That was perfectly normal, just like how I secretly admired Justin Cooper from the humanities class next door. He was the aloof, gentle academic ace who always ranked first in liberal arts.

But this was senior year, a critical time. I knew my limits, and I believed Timothy did too.

Yet things unfolded in a way I did not expect.

Around two or three in the morning, I got up for water and noticed the light in Timothy's room was still on.

Dark circles appeared under his once fair face. Sometimes, he even fell asleep during class.

"Timothy, what's going on with you?" I asked, worried.

"It's nothing," he replied lightly. "Probably just staying up too late doing practice problems."

Back then, I foolishly believed him.

It wasn't until later that I discovered he wasn't sleeping because he was gaming all night with Lucy.

When I found out, I was disappointed. I went to argue with him.

"Timothy, have you forgotten your dream? How did you become like this?"

Embarrassment flashed across his face, his expression shifting through a storm of emotions.

But it was Lucy who snapped back at me. "Cecil, I think you should have some self-awareness. Don't interfere in another woman's boyfriend's private affairs."

I froze.

Were they already dating?

"Timothy, is that what you think too?" I refused to give up.

He fought his way out of the mountains through sheer effort. He was just one step away from returning home in glory. He wasn't like others—he had no capital to waste time. If anything, he should have been working even harder.

I did not live through his hardships, yet even I understood this. I believed Timothy understood it as well.

I looked at him expectantly, hoping he would tell me this was all just a joke.

After a long pause, Timothy finally spoke.

"Cecil, stop saying these things. I know my limits. And from now on, we won't walk together anymore."

Lucy heard that and shot me a contemptuous smile.

I lowered my head and didn't look at them again, letting them walk past me.

I knew that from that moment on, I lost a companion on the same path.

Five months before the SAT, I already finished my first round of revision and begun filling in gaps.

Timothy was strolling around campus with Lucy, admiring flowers and trees, wandering wherever they pleased.

Three months before the exam, I stayed up late drilling problems every night.

Meanwhile, Timothy stayed up all night on the phone with Lucy, pouring his heart out.