I woke to the smell of coffee.

Not the burnt kind from the dorm machine. Real coffee. Warm. Rich. Familiar in a way I didn’t expect.

For a second, I forgot where I was.

Then I felt the mattress beneath me.

Not a couch.

Not my dorm bed.

Lucas’s.

The room was quiet. Morning light filtered through half-closed blinds. Somewhere down the hall, something clinked — the soft sound of a spoon against ceramic.

I sat up slowly.

Still fully clothed. My hoodie was bunched at the neck, twisted from sleep. My shoes were on the floor where I must’ve kicked them off sometime in the night.

I didn’t remember doing it.

I barely remembered coming in here at all.

But Lucas hadn’t said anything.

Hadn’t touched me.

Hadn’t asked questions.

Just… let me exist.

I got up. Padding barefoot into the hall, I followed the smell of coffee into the kitchen.

Lucas stood by the counter, two mugs already poured.

He looked up when he saw me. Not surprised. Not awkward. Just tired-eyed and steady.

“Morning,” he said, voice low.

I nodded. My throat was dry. “Thanks… for last night.”

“You don’t have to thank me.”

He slid a mug across the counter. I took it.

The first sip made my whole chest ache.

It tasted like safety.

We stood in silence for a while — the kind that didn’t demand anything.

Then Lucas set his mug down.

“I don’t think you should go back,” he said.

I blinked. “What?”

“Your dorm. Dylan.” His eyes were serious now. “You shouldn’t go back there.”

I didn’t answer.

Because part of me already knew he was right.

Lucas stepped around the counter. Close enough that I could feel the weight of what he was about to say before he said it.

“Stay here. With me.”

I stared at him.

“You don’t have to explain anything,” he added quickly. “I won’t ask you to. But if you want space that’s yours… if you want time to breathe—”

He stopped. Ran a hand through his hair.

“I’ll help you move your stuff. I’ll text your professors. We can get your coursework moved online. Just for a while. Just until you’re okay.”

The words hit harder than I expected.

Because no one had ever offered me anything like that.

Not with nothing attached.

Not with no strings.

Not even Dylan.

Especially not Dylan.

I set the coffee down with shaking hands.

“You don’t have to say yes right now,” Lucas said. “Just… think about it.”

But I already had.

I looked at him, contemplating everything.

And for the first time in weeks, I didn’t feel like I was waiting for permission.

I said yes.

Not right away. Not out loud at first.

But something in my chest loosened when Lucas said it — stay here — like my body had already decided before my mouth could catch up.

“…Okay,” I whispered.

Lucas didn’t smile. Didn’t celebrate.

He just nodded once, like he’d been holding his breath.

“I’ll go grab your stuff,” he said. “Just the basics. I can go later for the rest, if you want.”

I nodded again.

He hesitated at the door. “You’ll be okay here for a bit?”

“I think so.”

He left anyway — slower than he needed to — like he was afraid I might disappear if he moved too fast.

The quiet settled in after he was gone.

At first, it was fine.

I curled up on the couch with the blanket he’d left for me, phone in my hand, scrolling without reading. The apartment felt safe in a way my dorm never had — no eyes on me, no rules humming under the air.

But then the warmth faded.

My skin felt wrong.

Too tight. Too loud.

My thoughts started racing — sharp, overlapping, crowding in on each other.

My heart kicked too fast, then too slow.

My hands wouldn’t stay still.

I told myself it was anxiety.

I told myself it would pass.

It didn’t.

The ache came next — deep and crawling, like something under my skin trying to get out.

My jaw hurt from clenching. My chest felt heavy, compressed, like I couldn’t get a full breath no matter how hard I tried.

Dylan always fixed this part.

That thought scared me more than the pain.

I paced the apartment. Sat. Stood. Sat again.

My gaze kept drifting to my sleeves.

I hated myself for it.

I told myself I wouldn’t.

I didn’t want to.

But the pressure kept building — not sadness, not even panic. Just this unbearable need to make the noise stop.

To feel something sharp and controllable instead of everything at once.

My hands were shaking when I pulled my sleeve down.

I didn’t think. I didn’t plan.

I just needed relief.

And for a moment — a terrible, quiet moment — it worked.

The noise dimmed.

My breathing slowed.

And then the guilt hit so hard it made my stomach turn.

I wrapped my arm in the sleeve again like I could hide it from myself.

Like Lucas wouldn’t notice.

Like it hadn’t happened.

I curled back into the couch, pressing my arm against my chest, tears slipping out without sound.

Don’t come back yet, I thought.

Please don’t see me like this.

The door opened.

I flinched so hard my whole body jerked.

Lucas stepped inside with two bags in his hands.

He stopped the second he looked at me.

“Noah?”

I shook my head too fast. “I’m fine.”

He didn’t move.

Didn’t ask questions.

He set the bags down slowly.

Crossed the room.

Sat beside me without touching.

“You don’t have to be fine,” he said gently.

I stared at the floor.

I didn’t respond.

He didn’t know it was so much more than just these tears.

Lucas closed his eyes for a second and breathed.

“We’ll figure this out,” he said. “Together. Okay?”

I nodded.

And for the first time since I’d said yes to staying —

I was terrified.

But I wasn’t alone.

Lucas didn’t say anything for a while.

He just sat there with me on the couch — not too close, not too far. One foot on the ground, the other bouncing like he was trying to keep himself grounded.

I kept my eyes on the floor.

I didn’t want to see pity on his face. Or fear. Or the realization that he’d made a mistake letting me stay.

But when I finally glanced at him…

He just looked steady. Tired. And… sad.

Not because of me.

For me.

Lucas ran a hand through his hair. Then said — more to himself than to me —

“I knew something was wrong. I wish I could have gotten you out of there sooner.”

“It’s not your job,” I muttered.

“I’m sorry. I can’t help it. I can’t stand to see you in pain anymore. It hurts.”

My eyes burned.

“Do you want to talk to someone?” he asked. “Not me. Like… someone who actually knows what they’re doing?”

I didn’t answer right away.

“I could find someone,” he added. “Someone safe.”

I wanted to say yes.

But the thought of explaining everything — Dylan, the drops, the needles, the way my mind felt like it was splitting in two — made my stomach twist.

“Maybe later,” I said. “Just… not yet.”

Lucas didn’t push.

He just nodded, stood, and brought over the smaller duffel he’d packed from my dorm.

“Your charger. Laptop. Some clothes. I didn’t grab everything.”

I took it with a quiet, “Thanks.”

He paused again, like he had something else on his mind. Then he glanced toward the kitchen.

“You want tea or anything? I can make you something to eat?”

“I don’t think I can keep anything down right now.”

Lucas sighed.

“I can tell you’ve lost weight,” he admitted. “If you can at least try, please.”

“I hadn’t noticed. I guess I can try.”

“Okay, good. Also… Dylan was there.”

I froze. My heart thudded in my chest.

“I didn’t tell him where you were.”

“I… I need something from the dorm.”

“I can go back.”

I stood up.

“No, maybe I should.”

“Noah, what do you need? Come on, don’t do this.”

I thought for a second before I sat back down.

Lucas walked over to me and knelt in front of me.

He looked up at me with concern.

“Noah, what is it you need from there? From him? What did he do to you?”

I looked down at him — this man who was trying to protect me.

Lucas grabbed my hand.

“Let me help you through this.”

_______________________

Days went by.

I ended up getting a refill on my prescription medication. My coursework caught up, and my professors were surprisingly lenient considering my health.

Lucas kept going to class, and every night I lay in bed next to him.

Side by side.

Him on his side, me on mine.

Space between us.

No questions asked.

Lucas brought me a lot of comfort.

The person who had brought me so much pain in the past was now… my anchor.

_________________________________________________

My phone buzzed after Lucas left for class the next morning.

I almost didn’t check it.

But the name on the screen made my stomach flip.

Nico: You okay

Just that.

No emojis. No punctuation.

But I could feel the weight behind it.

I stared at the message for too long.

I should’ve ignored it.

I wanted to ignore it.

But I didn’t.

Me: Can I come by?

The reply came fast.

Nico: Door’s open.

Lucas wouldn’t be back for hours. I told myself I was just… curious.

That it didn’t mean anything.

That I was in control.

The lie tasted bitter the whole walk to Nico’s building.

His door was cracked when I got there. I stepped inside, closing it behind me.

Nico was on the couch, hoodie loose, eyes tired.

He didn’t smile. Didn’t ask questions.

Just nodded once.

“I figured you might,” he said.

I stood there, unsure what to say.

Ashamed of why I was there — except I already knew.

“You hurting?” he asked.

My throat tightened.

He got up and walked to the kitchen. Opened a drawer. Pulled out a small brown bottle I recognized too well.

He didn’t move closer.

Just held it in his palm, looking at me.

“I don’t think you should take this anymore,” he said.

My heartbeat thudded in my ears. “Then why do you have it?”

“Because I’m weak,” he said quietly. “Same reason you’re here.”

I didn’t respond.

He stepped closer, slow and careful, and held the bottle out.

“I won’t give it to you,” he said. “But I’ll let you take it. If you really think it’ll help.”

My hand hovered in the air.

The bottle looked so small in his palm.

But it felt like it could take the edge off everything — the noise, the ache, the shaking under my skin.

Lucas’s voice echoed in the back of my mind.

Let me help you through this.

But Lucas wasn’t here.

And Nico wasn’t pushing.

Just offering.

One choice.

My fingers twitched.

“You shouldn’t be using this,” he said.

I froze.

“Neither should I,” he added.

His voice was rough. Not angry. Just… tired.

“Dylan’s family,” Nico said. “They make stuff like this. Designer drugs. Control. Obedience. Euphoria. Whatever sells. They test it on people they think won’t ask questions.”

He looked at me.

“You black out when it’s too strong.”

My chest clenched.

“He’s using you,” Nico said quietly. “You don’t know what’s in that bottle, Noah.”

“So… the whole time,” I said slowly, “he was using me as an experiment. And you knew? Is that the same for Megan?”

Nico hesitated. Then nodded.

“I… yeah. I knew.” he said. 

“You knew,” I repeated. “And you tried to sleep with me?”

“Dylan said you were sober,” Nico said quickly. “I thought you were interested. Just… shy.”

“You knew he was giving me drugs.”

“I assumed.”

My voice dropped. “Does that mean you slept with Megan too?”

Nico looked away.

“Well…”

“Dammit, Nico.”

“I’m sorry, Noah,” he said. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you.”

“Then what exactly were you trying to do?”

He swallowed. “I liked you. Why do you think I kept covering for you with Dylan?”

“Just give it to me,” I whispered.

“Are you—” Nico started.

A knock hit the door.

“Shit,” Nico muttered. “Hide, Noah.”

I stared at him. “What—where?”

“My bedroom closet.”

“Okay.”

I barely got the door shut before I heard a familiar voice.

Dylan.

My chest seized. My hands started shaking.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

What if he finds me?

What will he do to me?

I should have never left Lucas’s apartment. I’m an idiot.

“Dylan,” Nico said casually. “You never stop by. What’s this about?”

“I was just visiting a dear friend,” Dylan replied smoothly. “That’s not an issue, is it?”

They talked in the living room while I crouched on the closet floor, phone clenched in my hand, making sure the ringer was off.

Twenty minutes later, Dylan finally left.

Nico opened the door.

“Hey,” he said softly. “Wait a bit before you head out. I don’t want you running into him.”

“Are you going to give it to me?” I asked before I even stood.

He sighed. “Just a few. Not the whole bottle.”

“It’s the least you could do.”

“Dammit, Noah,” he said, frustrated. “No. I changed my mind. It’s the last thing you need.”

“Please,” I whispered. “Don’t make me beg. And don’t act like you suddenly have a conscience.”

He closed his eyes. “Fine. A few drops. That’s it. I’m scared you’ll OD if I give you more.”

When I got back to Lucas’s apartment, he was already there, pulling something from the cabinet. He didn’t look at me.

Is he mad?

“Lucas?” I said.

“Where were you, Noah?”

I couldn’t look at him.

“Nico’s.”

He turned back to the kitchen.

I rushed forward and clung to him.

“Please,” I said. “Please don’t be mad at me.”

Lucas froze. Then sighed.

“Why did you go over there?”

“I needed something,” I said. “And answers.”

“You’d rather be with him?” he asked quietly.

“No—Lucas—”

“I get it,” he said. “Why would you choose me after everything I did to you?”

I shook my head.

“You’re right. I haven’t forgiven you. And I’m a mess.”

“You’re not a mess… you’re just traumatized and it's all my fault.”

Wow Lucas. I might not have found it in my heart to forgive you yet but… You are so damn important to me right now. 

I reached up and kissed him.