I woke to the sound of glass.

The gentle click of a bottle cap, followed by the quiet draw of liquid up a dropper — familiar now. Too familiar. I didn’t need to look to know what was coming.

Dylan’s voice followed a beat later, soft and sweet.

“Sit up for me.”

I did.

He was already crouched in front of me, the small brown bottle in one hand, dropper in the other. He didn’t look tired. He never did.

“Open.”

My mouth obeyed before my brain could catch up.

Three drops. Bitter. Warm. Sharp around the edges, then smooth, like smoke threading through my chest. It didn’t knock me out. Just made everything quieter. Easier to carry.

He watched me swallow, then stood, capping the bottle like he was resealing something sacred.

“You’ve got class,” he said, already turning toward his desk. “Don’t be late.”

I pulled my hoodie over my head, fingers fumbling with the sleeve cuffs. Just another morning. Nothing out of place.

Then Dylan added, without turning around:

“If Nico asks you to lunch again… you can go.”

My fingers stilled.

“I trust you.”

I glanced at him, but his back was to me. Already typing.

I didn’t say anything.

But I nodded.

Because I always did.

The day passed like a blur — soft edges, muted sound. The drops always made it feel like that. Not slow, just… floaty. Like walking through water where everything moved but nothing touched you.

By the time my last class let out, the sun was already tilting toward late afternoon. I kept my head down, backpack slung over one shoulder, hoodie strings twisted tight between my fingers.

I was supposed to meet Nico in the parking lot again.

I didn’t expect to see Lucas.

But I did.

He was leaning against the side wall of the Humanities building, half in shadow, half in sun. Hoodie, jeans, that silver hair catching every ounce of light like it had no business being real. He looked… still. Like he’d been standing there a while.

Waiting?

Our eyes met before I could look away.

He straightened — not fast, not aggressive — just… present. Like he wasn’t going to let the moment pass unless I made it.

My heart stuttered.

And for a second, I thought I’d keep walking.

I could pretend I didn’t see him. That it didn’t matter. That nothing had happened.

But I stopped.

I turned toward him.

My shoes felt like they were filled with lead.

He watched me approach — guarded, unsure, hopeful.

When I reached him, I didn’t say hi.

I didn’t ask how he was.

I just said, quiet:

“Can we talk? Somewhere… alone?”

Lucas blinked like he wasn’t sure he heard me right. Then he nodded. Slowly. Carefully. Like any sudden movement might break the spell.

“Yeah,” he said. “Of course.”

His voice was rougher than I remembered. Softer, too.

But before either of us could move—

“Noah?”

We both turned.

Nico.

Coming up the sidewalk from the parking lot, hands in the pockets of his jacket, backpack slung over one shoulder. He stopped a few feet away, eyes flicking between us.

“You okay?” he asked me.

I nodded, too fast.

He tilted his head. “You ready to go?”

Lucas’s shoulders stiffened.

Everything in him went still.

He turned to me, voice sharp now — not loud, but direct. Like he couldn’t hold it in.

“You’re two friends now?”

I swallowed.

“We’ve been talking,” I said quietly.

Lucas’s jaw clenched. “Did he touch you again?”

Nico stiffened.

“What the hell?” he muttered. “That’s not—”

“Are you safe?” Lucas cut in, eyes still on me. “With him?”

My chest tightened. “I… I don’t know.”

The air thickened.

Nico didn’t say anything. But he didn’t back off either.

Lucas stepped closer. Not aggressive. Not possessive. Just close enough to lower his voice, like the space between us mattered.

“Noah. Forget lunch. Forget class. Come to my place. Now.”

The offer landed hard in my chest.

Not a demand.

Not a threat.

Just… a door. Open.

But I froze.

Because Dylan said lunch was okay.

Not this.

Not Lucas.

Not alone.

I hesitated — and that hesitation said more than I wanted it to.

Lucas’s face fell — just slightly. Like he understood, even if it hurt.

He stepped back.

“I’m not trying to control you,” he said. “I just… I don’t want you walking into something that’s gonna hurt you again.”

Nico exhaled, tension running off his shoulders.

Lucas looked at him.

Then looked back at me.

“You get to choose,” he said softly. “But choose.”

And he turned.

Started walking away.

I didn’t move for a second.

Then I said his name.

“Lucas—wait.”

He stopped.

I took a breath. My voice was unsteady.

“I’ll come with you.”

Then I turned to Nico. His expression was hard to read — not angry, not hurt. Just… watching.

“I’m gonna catch up with you later,” I said quietly. “We can do lunch another time. I’m sorry.”

Nico didn’t stop me.

He just nodded once — slow, steady — and stepped aside.

And then I followed Lucas.

Lucas unlocked the door without saying anything.

I stepped inside behind him.

It was still clean. For the most part. lived-in. His laptop half-closed on the kitchen counter. Light filtered in through slanted blinds, stripes across the floor.

The silence hit different here. Not cold like Dylan’s room. Not fake like the dorms. Just… quiet.

Lucas shut the door and didn’t move right away. Then he walked to the other side of the room, like he needed space to think.

I stood near the wall, hands in my hoodie pocket, heart going too fast for no reason.

“I didn’t think you’d talk to me again,” he said finally.

His voice was low. Rough around the edges.

“I wasn’t sure either,” I admitted.

He turned toward me. His eyes didn’t look angry. Just… tired. Guarded.

“What changed?”

I looked away because I wasn’t sure. Honestly I was more confused now than ever so maybe that was it.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about it,” I said quietly. “That night. What you said. The way you looked at me.”

Lucas exhaled. A long, silent breath.

“I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You didn’t.”

He raised an eyebrow, like he wasn’t sure he believed me.

“I didn’t panic,” I said, louder this time. “I thought I would. I thought I should. But I didn’t.”

The air between us shifted.

Lucas stepped a little closer. Slowly.

“You kissed me back,” he said.

I swallowed. “I know.”

“And then you ran.”

“I know that too.”

Another step”

“That describes panic.”

I looked up at him.

“You still confused?” he asked gently.

“Yes,” I whispered. “But not about… everything.”

Lucas didn’t reach for me. He didn’t push. He just stood there, like if I wanted to close the space, I could.

“I don’t know what I want,” I said. “Or what I’m allowed to want.”

Lucas shook his head. “Noah, no one gets to tell you what you’re allowed to want.”

I felt that like a crack down my spine.

“But it’s not that simple,” I said. “It’s like there’s this… ache. All the time. In my chest. In my stomach. I don’t know if it’s fear or guilt or—”

“Wanting,” Lucas said quietly.

I looked at him.

“Sometimes,” he said, “they feel the same. I felt it all through high school. I still do.”

Lucas didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Just stood there in the quiet like he was waiting for something he didn’t want to ask for.

I took a slow breath. My hands were shaking, but I didn’t shove them back in my pockets this time. I let them hang by my sides.

“I’ve been trying to figure things out,” I said softly.

Lucas nodded once. “I know.”

I looked up at him. His face was open, but still careful. Like he didn’t want to breathe wrong and scare me off.

I stepped closer.

Lucas didn’t flinch. He just… waited.

My voice was barely a whisper. “Can I kiss you?”

He blinked. Once. Twice.

Then said, “Yes.”

I moved before I lost my nerve.

It wasn’t like the first time. This time, I closed the space. I reached for him — awkward, unsure — one hand brushing his jaw, the other resting on his chest. His heartbeat was fast but steady. Mine was everywhere.

When our mouths met, it was soft. Careful. Like we were afraid we’d break something if we pushed too hard.

But then—

The ache.

The one I’d been trying to ignore for days, maybe weeks — it roared to life in my chest. A need I didn’t understand. A hunger I hadn’t let myself feel.

I kissed him harder.

Lucas made a sound — quiet, broken — and kissed me back.

We stumbled. Somewhere between the wall and the couch. I didn’t know. I couldn’t think. I just needed to feel something that wasn’t confusion or fear or that awful numbness Dylan kept stuffing down my throat.

Lucas’s hands gripped my waist. Mine fisted in his shirt. And for a minute, maybe two, I forgot why I was scared.

Because this felt good. Too good.

I didn’t want to stop.

But he did.

Lucas broke the kiss first — gently, but firm. His hands still on me, but holding.

I stared at him, breath ragged.

He was breathing hard too. His eyes blown wide, lips parted.

I stepped back fast, like I’d burned him.

“I—I’m sorry,” I stammered. “I don’t know why I—”

“Noah.” His voice was low, steady. “You don’t have to apologize.”

I couldn’t look at him.

“I was just…” I ran a hand through my hair. “Trying to figure it out. And I thought if I—”

“You don’t owe me a reason,” he said. “But if you’re scared, or confused, or just trying to fill a hole… I don’t want to be the thing you use to numb that.”

That hurt.

Because he wasn’t wrong.

I sat down on the couch before my knees gave out.

Lucas stayed standing, watching me quietly. His chest still rising and falling like he’d just come up for air.

“That wasn’t nothing,” he said, after a beat. “Not to me.”

I nodded, staring at the floor.

“Was it nothing to you?”

I opened my mouth. Closed it.

Then finally whispered, “No.”

Lucas didn’t push. He just stood there for a moment, watching me breathe like I might shatter if he said the wrong thing.

Then he quietly moved to the kitchen.

I heard the fridge open. A drawer slide. The soft hum of the microwave.

I didn’t look up.

I sat there on the couch, elbows on my knees, face in my hands.

I hadn’t meant to kiss him like that.

I hadn’t meant to want it like that.

Because now… I couldn’t pretend I didn’t feel it.

And that scared me more than anything.

A few minutes passed.

Then Lucas came back.

He set something down on the coffee table — a plate with a grilled cheese sandwich and a small bowl of tomato soup. Steam still curling off the surface.

He didn’t say anything. Just nudged it a little closer to me before sitting on the opposite end of the couch, giving me space.

My stomach growled before I could pretend I wasn’t hungry.

Lucas didn’t smile. Didn’t say told you so. He just watched me with that same soft, careful gaze.

I picked up half the sandwich. Took a bite.

The bread was buttery. The cheese too hot. The soup salty and warm. It tasted like something I didn’t deserve.

“You didn’t eat,” Lucas said, finally. “When I saw you earlier.”

I nodded, chewing.

“Did you… talk to him?” he asked gently. “To Nico?”

I hesitated. Then said, “I told him I’d catch up with him later.”

Lucas didn’t respond right away. He just leaned back against the couch, eyes on the ceiling like he didn’t want to say something he’d regret.

“I’m not trying to make you choose,” he said quietly.

“I know.”

“It’s just hard. Watching you walk away.”

I didn’t have an answer for that.

So I finished the sandwich.

Lucas didn’t move until I set the plate back down. Then he turned toward me, his expression more serious now.

“Noah,” he said. “Whatever this is… whatever you’re figuring out — I can wait.”

My throat tightened.

“I’m not scared of what you feel,” he added. “I’m scared of what you’ll let other people make you feel about it.”

I looked at him then.

He didn’t look mad. Or disappointed.

Just there.

Just him.

And maybe… that was what made me want to cry all over again.

Lucas stood and carried the plates back to the sink. He didn’t ask me to help — just moved around the kitchen like it was easier to keep his hands busy than sit in the quiet too long.

I watched him rinse them, thinking again how normal this felt. Almost too normal, like I didn’t belong in something so gentle.

He glanced back at me over his shoulder. “Still like grilled cheese with tomato soup?”

The question caught me off guard. I blinked.

He gave a small smile. “Used to be your favorite. You made me make it for you every time you stayed over. Even in the summer.”

My chest pulled tight, but in a weird, warm way. I hadn’t realized he remembered that. I hadn’t even remembered it.

“I still do,” I said quietly.

Lucas nodded like he’d already guessed that.

Then he grabbed his phone from the counter and held it out. “Give me your number.”

I hesitated.

“I won’t text you unless you want me to,” he added. “But I figured… you might want to be able to reach me. If you ever need to.”

I took it. Entered my number. Then when he handed it back, I quickly pulled out my own phone.

I saved him as Jamie L.

Something harmless. Something Dylan wouldn’t think twice about.

When I stood up, Lucas stepped toward the door like he was about to walk me out. “Want me to walk you back?”

I froze. “No.”

I didn’t say it with anger. Just… certainty.

Lucas nodded slowly. No pushback. Just quiet acceptance.

But before I could turn the handle, he said, “Noah?”

I looked back.

“You don’t have to ask next time. If you want to come here. If you need a place that’s not there.”

His voice was soft, but there was something sharp beneath it. Something aching.

“You’re always welcome,” he said.

My throat was too tight to answer.

So I just nodded.

Then walked out the door.

I didn’t look back until I was halfway down the block.

Lucas hadn’t moved from the doorway.

And for the first time in weeks, I wanted to believe someone might still be waiting for me.