I woke up alone.

Dylan’s bed was empty, his sheets smoothed like he never even slept there. Light spilled through the window — soft, gold, too bright for how I felt inside.

My head was heavy. Not aching, just… weighed down.

Muted.

I sat up slowly. My mouth tasted stale, and my body moved like it had been underwater for too long. I rubbed my eyes, blinked against the light, tried to remember what today was.

Then it hit me.

Classes.

Today was the first day.

I pulled myself out of bed and stumbled toward my desk. I always took my anxiety meds first thing when I woke up feeling like this — heavy, unsteady, like something was already wrong.

I opened the drawer.

Empty.

I blinked.

Then remembered — Dylan took them yesterday.

The image came back all at once. Him holding the bottle in his hand. Turning it slowly like he was deciding for me what I needed more or less.

Him not giving it back. Just… keeping it.

He never gave it back.

I stood there for a second, hand still resting in the drawer like I wasn’t ready to admit what I already knew.

He took them.

And I let him.

But I didn’t feel like I had a choice.

A few tears trickled down my face.

Today was going to be a wreck. I knew it. How was I supposed to get through the day without my medicine? It was the only thing that helped me function — even slightly. But now something else was creeping back in. Something cold. Its grip was choking the light right out of me.

Was I slipping back into the depression I fought so hard to escape over the summer?

The only thing I’d been holding on to was this idea of a fresh start. College was supposed to be different. I even stopped my antidepressants thinking I wouldn’t need them anymore.

I looked toward Dylan’s desk.

Dread pooled in my chest.

I couldn’t go through his things.

What if he noticed? What if he caught me? He’d be furious.

I wiped my face with my sleeve and dragged myself into the bathroom. I brushed my teeth. Took a shower. Zoned out more than once — drifting outside myself, watching thoughts I couldn’t control swim past like ghosts.

Eventually, I left for class.

Don’t make eye contact. Don’t draw attention. Nothing good ever comes from being noticed, Noah.

I sat in the furthest corner of the lecture hall.

I tried to pay attention.

I really tried.

But my mind was foggy.

When class ended, I waited for the room to clear out before I moved. I didn’t want to bump into anyone. Didn’t want to be seen.

My stomach growled. Loud.

I realized I’d skipped breakfast.

I sighed and dragged myself toward the cafeteria. I kept my head low. Eyes down. Just grab something and get out.

I stood in the to-go line, paid for my food, turned to leave—

And missed a step.

The tray hit the floor.

So did I.

Food everywhere.

My face burned. My hands trembled. My chest tightened — too tight.

Breathing became impossible.

Everything started spinning.

No.

Not here.

Not now.

My vision blurred. My breath came fast, shallow, wrong. I couldn’t feel my feet.

Someone shouted—

“Noah!”

No.

Great.

Now they knew my name.

I curled in on myself. Panic in full bloom.

And then — a hand. Not harsh. Not mocking.

Helping.

Familiar.

Lucas.

“Do you need the nurse?” he asked.

I blinked at him. Shocked. Suspicious. Back in high school, he would’ve laughed. Taken a picture. Made a comment.

But now he was kneeling beside me. Worried.

It didn’t make sense.

I pushed against him — weakly.

He didn’t let go.

“Noah, stop,” he said gently. “I’m just trying to help. Please. Just trust me for a second.”

I froze.

Maybe it couldn’t get worse.

I stopped fighting.

Lucas looked over at a staff member. “He needs to go to the nurse,” he said.

The staff nodded. “Go ahead. We’ll take care of the mess.”

And then I was on his back.

He carried me. Hands tucked beneath my legs. Quiet. Steady.

At the nurse’s office, they asked me questions. Took my blood pressure. My pulse. Walked me through grounding exercises. Gave me warm tea and a ham and cheese sandwich. And eventually referred me to campus mental health services.

“So you didn’t take your anxiety medication today?” the nurse asked.

I hesitated.

I couldn’t tell her the truth. Couldn’t say Dylan took them. That he never gave them back.

“He was trying to help,” I whispered to myself.

“…I lost them,” I said out loud.

The nurse nodded, concerned. “Please contact your provider for a new prescription, okay?”

“Okay. I will.”

Lucas sat in the corner. Watching. Concerned.

When we left, he followed me into the lobby.

“Noah, I didn’t know you— How long have you been on meds?” he asked.

“I don’t remember you having anxiety.”

“It’s because you gave it to him,” a voice said.

Dylan.

I froze.

“Me?” Lucas snapped.

Dylan didn’t flinch. “Let’s get you back to the dorm, Noah.”

It wasn’t a suggestion.

“Wait,” Lucas said. “Please. Just one minute. Let me talk to him. That’s all I’m asking.”

I hesitated.

Dylan looked at me. Smiled. “I’ll wait outside.”

He stepped away.

I exhaled.

“Thank you,” I said to Lucas. “For helping me.”

He nodded. “It was nothing. I would never leave you like that.”

“But you have.”

“I know. And I’m sorry. I just… I want to fix it. I want you to trust me again. I don’t want to hurt you anymore. I regret everything, Noah. What do I have to do?”

There was something raw in his voice.

Something real.

“Give me your number,” I said.

He blinked.

Then smiled.

We exchanged numbers.

“I’ll call you,” I said. “We can talk more later.”

He nodded. “Hey, Noah?”

“Yeah?”

“What’s up with your roommate?”

I blinked. “What do you mean?”

“He just… he gives me a bad feeling.”

I didn’t answer.

I couldn’t.

“I should go,” I said, walking toward the door.

He followed.

Outside, Dylan was waiting.

With Megan.

She rushed over.

“Oh my god, Noah, are you okay?” she asked.

“Yeah,” I said. “I’m better now.”

There was a pause.

Dylan filled it.

“Well, I better get you back to the dorm so you can rest. Come on, Noah.”

He turned.

I followed.

Lucas stayed behind with Megan. They actually walked off together.

But I could still feel his eyes on me.

And for the first time, I didn’t know which one of them I should be afraid of.