The music wasn’t doing anything.

Just noise in my ear, the same playlist I always used to drown stuff out. It felt useless now. I wasn’t even listening — just holding onto it like a sound could keep me from falling asleep too hard or thinking too much. The left earbud had slipped out and was resting on my chest. I didn’t fix it. I just lay there, staring at the wall.

Dylan hadn’t said anything in a while.

I could hear him behind me, typing now and then. A pause. Then a few more keystrokes. Nothing steady. Just… there. Like he wanted me to know he was still in the room.

My eyes drifted toward the ceiling. I’d already memorized the cracks up there. The one near the corner looked like a Y. I’d stared at it enough to start thinking maybe it meant something, even though I knew it didn’t. I pulled the blanket tighter around my arm and tucked my fingers inside my sleeve.

Knock knock.

I didn’t move. At first, I wasn’t sure I’d heard it. Could’ve been part of the song — some random sample, or a beat drop.

Then another knock. Louder.

My body reacted before my brain did. I sat up halfway.

Behind me, the chair creaked.

“Get under the blanket,” Dylan said.

His voice was sharp, but not loud. Controlled. That fake calm he always used when something bothered him and he didn’t want anyone else to know.

I hesitated.

“Now.”

I pulled the blanket up over my shoulders and sank back down. My face was hot. My hands were cold.

“Close your eyes,” he said, quieter now. “Don’t say anything.”

I kept my eyes half open. Just enough to see blurred light when the door opened.

There was a pause — a breath — and then a voice I didn’t expect.

“Hey. Hope I’m not interrupting.”

My stomach twisted.

Nico.

Dylan didn’t answer right away. I could feel the delay. Then the smile kicked in — I couldn’t see it, but I could hear it in his voice.

“Not at all. Surprised to see you.”

I stayed still, barely breathing. My heart wasn’t racing. It was doing something slower. Heavier.

“I figured I’d check in,” Nico said. “After last night.”

I didn’t know what that meant. I didn’t like the way he said it. Like he was in on something I wasn’t.

“Noah and I appreciate that,” Dylan said. “That was… thoughtful.”

Another pause. Too quiet.

Nico again. “I was actually hoping to steal him. Just for a bit.”

I blinked. I could feel the shift, like the room changed shape.

Dylan didn’t say anything for a few seconds. I thought maybe he wouldn’t. But then—

“He’s been resting,” Dylan said, light. “But if he wants to go…”

That tone. I hated that tone more than anything.

“Noah?” he said, now talking to me directly. “Nico wants to take you out for a bit. That’s nice of him, don’t you think?”

My throat felt tight. But my body was already moving. I sat up slowly, pushing the blanket off, hoodie sleeve dragging over my hand. I reached for my hoodie without looking at him.

I didn’t say anything. I didn’t ask where we were going.

I just got up.

I walked past Dylan without making eye contact.

Nico was leaning against the doorframe, one hand in his pocket, same relaxed posture he always had. Like he wasn’t standing in a fucking cage.

“Hey,” he said, eyes on me. “You look like hell.”

I didn’t answer.

But I kept walking.

And then I was out.

The hallway felt brighter than I remembered.

Or maybe it was just the suddenness of being out of the room. My eyes weren’t adjusting right. My body didn’t know how to walk like a normal person. I kept my head down and followed Nico, hands stuffed in my hoodie pocket, trying not to feel like every door we passed was watching me.

“So,” he said, casually, like we were picking up a conversation we’d never started. “What’s your favorite kind of food?”

I didn’t answer.

He waited two seconds before filling in the silence himself. “Because if you say Italian, I’m taking you straight to Olive Garden and ghosting you forever.”

The corner of his mouth twitched. He glanced back, probably expecting a smile. I didn’t give him one.

He slowed a little so I could walk beside him instead of behind. I didn’t know if that made it better or worse.

“It doesn’t have to be a whole thing,” he said. “I just figured we could get food. Like people. You haven’t been out in a while, right?”

He said it like he wasn’t the one who noticed. Like Dylan didn’t report it. Like this wasn’t all part of whatever this was.

We turned a corner. A group of girls walked past us, laughing. One of them looked at me — or maybe she didn’t. I kept walking.

“Okay, fine,” Nico said. “No Olive Garden. Noted. You’re a man of taste.”

We were almost outside now. The doors were in sight. The light spilling through them didn’t feel like sunlight — just glare. Exposure.

“You lied to him,” I said quietly.

He didn’t react right away.

Then: “Yeah.”

I stopped walking. “Why?”

He stopped too. Didn’t look at me. “Because he was going to lose it if he thought you’d disappeared. And I didn’t know where you were either. So I covered for you.”

I didn’t believe him.

Or I wanted to.

“I told him you were with me all night,” Nico said. “Figured that was safer than the truth.”

The silence between us dragged for a second.

“I didn’t do it for him,” he added. “Okay?”

I stared at him. His expression was flat. Not defensive. Just… practiced.

“I didn’t ask you to lie.”

“Nope,” he said, too fast. “You didn’t ask for anything. You disappeared.”

I looked away. My throat burned, but not from anything I could name.

He pushed the door open. “Come on.”

Outside.

Wind. Real air. A breeze that hit my face and made me blink too hard. The world hadn’t changed. Cars in the distance. Leaves skipping across the concrete. My body felt like it didn’t belong in it anymore.

“This way,” Nico said, heading toward the parking lot. “You like Thai?”

I didn’t answer.

He clicked his keys. His car chirped.

I followed him anyway.

The seat was cold when I got in. I pulled the door shut without saying anything, and the sound of it was too loud. It made me flinch a little.

Nico didn’t start the engine right away.

“Seatbelt,” he said, not looking at me.

I clicked it in.

The car smelled like cologne and fast food wrappers. The radio was playing something low — synth-pop, maybe — but I couldn’t focus on it. I pressed my hand against the glass of the window like that might help ground me. It didn’t.

“You don’t have to act like I kidnapped you,” he said, finally pulling out of the lot.

I didn’t answer.

“I mean, unless you’re into that. In which case I’m flattered, but I left the rope at home.”

He grinned at his own joke. I looked out the window.

Campus blurred past us. Students walking, laughing. Trees. A bike rack. I could’ve been one of them. I could’ve been doing something.

But all I felt was the seat under me and the ache in my chest like I’d swallowed something sharp.

“You always go this quiet on dates?” Nico asked.

“This isn’t a date.”

He let out a sound — not quite a laugh. “Harsh.”

I said nothing.

After a moment, he drummed his fingers against the steering wheel. “It was supposed to be.”

“You lied to him.”

“Already covered that.”

“You didn’t do it for me.”

He glanced at me. “I did it so he wouldn’t come unglued and start calling campus security or breaking down people’s doors. If that helped you, cool. If not, then congratulations — you’re still alive. You’re welcome.”

I looked out the window again. My reflection in the glass looked worse than I thought. I hadn’t seen my own face in… I didn’t know. My eyes looked darker. Hollow. My hoodie was wrinkled and loose. Like someone else had worn it first.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“Someplace quiet. You’ll like it.”

That was the wrong thing to say. He didn’t get to decide what I liked.

But I didn’t argue.

He pulled into a small lot outside a place I didn’t recognize. The sign said Chai Moon in white letters. The windows were tinted. Inside, I could see warm yellow lighting and empty booths.

“You trust me enough to eat something?” he asked as he parked.

I opened the door without answering.

Inside, it smelled like lemongrass and coconut milk. The lights were soft, but it still felt too bright. I shrunk into my hoodie as we were seated in a booth against the wall.

Nico ordered Thai iced tea without asking me what I wanted. Then handed me a menu like this was normal.

“Seriously, though,” he said, once the waiter left, “you doing okay?”

I stared at the table. The grain in the wood looked fake.

“You don’t have to answer that,” he added. “I just figured someone should ask.”

“You’re not someone.”

He blinked, like he hadn’t expected that.

“Harsh again,” he muttered.

I didn’t take it back.

He leaned back in the booth. “Look, I’m not trying to be Dylan’s messenger boy, okay? If I wanted to narc on you, I wouldn’t have lied.”

“You didn’t lie for me,” I said again.

He didn’t deny it this time.

He just looked at me for a long second, then picked up his menu.

“Order what you want,” he said, not looking at me. “Or don’t. I’m not forcing you.”

That made my stomach twist.

Because the truth was, I wasn’t sure if I knew the difference anymore.

The iced tea came. I didn’t touch mine.

Nico stirred his with the straw, letting the ice clink against the glass. He took a long sip and made a face like it was stronger than expected. Or sweeter. Hard to tell with him.

“You should eat something,” he said, glancing over the top of his menu.

“I’m not hungry.”

“You haven’t been hungry in days.”

I looked up.

He didn’t flinch.

“Dylan told you that?”

He shrugged. “I can see it.”

I lowered my eyes again.

A silence settled. Not the good kind.

Then, slowly: “You want to talk about what happened?”

“No.”

“Okay,” he said. No sarcasm in his voice for once. Just that same annoying lightness, like this wasn’t a big deal.

But then: “Dylan said you were off your meds.”

I froze.

My knee bumped the table.

“I didn’t ask him about that,” he added quickly. “He just… said it. Like it was some kind of explanation.”

I stared at him.

Nico looked back, still calm, still unreadable. “That’s why he’s keeping such a close eye on you. Or that’s what he says.”

“He doesn’t need to keep an eye on me.”

“Doesn’t stop him, though.”

I leaned back in the booth, arms crossed tight over my chest.

“I’m not reporting anything,” Nico said. “If that’s what you’re thinking.”

I wasn’t sure what I was thinking.

I didn’t know what this was supposed to be.

“I just thought,” he continued, “after that night at the party… and then what happened after… maybe I owed you something. Like a reset.”

I almost laughed. But it came out more like a cough.

“You think this is a reset?”

He tilted his head slightly. “Isn’t it?”

I looked around the restaurant. It was still mostly empty. A waiter passed by, didn’t stop. A couple in the corner were laughing softly over noodles. None of this felt real.

“You don’t know anything,” I said.

Nico blinked.

“I know you’re not okay,” he said.

“No one’s okay.”

“That’s true,” he said, nodding like I’d agreed with him.

The food came. The plates were hot and steaming. I didn’t remember ordering anything, but there was something in front of me now — noodles, maybe. I couldn’t smell it. I didn’t pick up my fork.

Nico took a bite of his. “It’s good.”

I watched him chew, slow and deliberate, like we were just two guys out for dinner.

“Why did you lie to him?” I asked. “Really.”

He swallowed. Wiped his mouth with a napkin. Took his time.

“Because I thought you needed a window,” he said finally. “A way out. Or at least a pause button. I didn’t think he’d let you out if he didn’t think he already knew where you’d been.”

I stared at him.

“That’s what this is?” I asked. “A pause button?”

Nico didn’t answer.

He just pushed his plate a little closer to the center of the table, like maybe I’d want to try some.

I didn’t.

We didn’t talk much after that.

Nico paid. I didn’t ask him to. I didn’t say thank you.

He didn’t try to touch me, or joke. He just walked beside me, keys in hand, silent as the streetlights came on. The sky was getting dark. The cold felt heavier than before.

The drive back was worse than the one there.

Too quiet. Too slow.

I watched the buildings go by — brick, glass, trees stripped bare. I didn’t recognize them. It felt like we were driving through a place that looked like campus but wasn’t. A set. Something built just to trap me in the illusion that I’d left.

When we pulled into the lot, Nico didn’t kill the engine right away.

“You can text me,” he said.

I looked at him.

“I’m not Dylan,” he added. “You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to. But if you ever do…”

He trailed off.

I didn’t answer.

I got out of the car and shut the door too gently.

The walk back up the stairs felt slower.

My body knew where we were going, but everything else in me wanted to stop moving. Like if I paused long enough, the building might disappear.

I didn’t knock when I got to the room.

The door opened before I even touched the handle.

Dylan stood there. Smiling.

“Welcome back,” he said softly.

I stepped inside.

The lights were dimmed. The window was still covered. My bed was made.

“I heated up dinner,” he said. “In case you were still hungry.”

I didn’t say anything.

He didn’t ask how it went. Didn’t ask where we went. Didn’t ask what we talked about.

He just stepped aside and let me pass.

I sat down on the edge of the bed. The blanket was smooth and tucked. I didn’t remember leaving it like that.

“I’m glad you got some air,” Dylan said behind me. “That must’ve helped.”

I nodded once. It was easier than speaking.

I waited for the edge — the passive-aggressive shift, the guilt, the accusation. But it never came.

Just silence.

And then, gently: “Try to rest.”

I lay down.

He turned off the light.

The door clicked shut behind him.

And just like that, I was back.