Isaac woke up in one of the cabin's rooms. The heater was on, filling the space with a soft, comforting warmth. When he opened his eyes, he saw Keegan leaning against the wall, and María sitting on a chair beside him. The rest of the group was scattered across the room, all wearing the same anxious expression.
That's when Dante walked in. Isaac's gaze immediately found him, but the redhead didn't even notice he was awake. His eyes, bright, sharp green, were fixed on Keegan, burning with restrained anger.
"How did none of you think to tell us he's asthmatic?" Dante snapped, his tone caught somewhere between frustration and concern. "Do you have any idea how dangerous that was? He could've died."
Keegan opened his mouth to respond, but Isaac spoke first, slowly sitting up. "You're right, Dante," he said, his voice rough and tired. "I should've said something. I'm sorry for scaring you all."
Dante's brow furrowed, his jaw tight."The stupidest part of this whole thing," he said bluntly, "is that you're asthmatic and still can't put down a cigarette."
Isaac blinked at him, surprised, before a faint smile tugged at his lips. Claire placed a hand on Dante's shoulder. "Dante, maybe not the best time to lecture him," she murmured gently, then turned to Isaac. "How are you feeling?"
Dante clicked his tongue and stormed out of the room. Isaac followed him with his eyes until the redhead's silhouette disappeared down the hallway. There was something strangely soft about the way Dante got angry when he cared. It wasn't gentle, but it was honest , and that thought made Isaac's lips curl into a quiet smile.
The trip ended soon after, but Dante stayed in Isaac's thoughts longer than he expected. It wasn't anything deep, just curiosity, maybe. During those days at the cabin, he'd noticed things he hadn't before. Isaac didn't think much of it… but for some reason, the thought of him kept coming back
During lunch breaks at the campus, Isaac sometimes caught himself watching Dante from afar. And when he realized it, he'd quickly look away, pretending it never happened.
One afternoon, he found him alone.
Dante was sitting at a table, focused on a tablet filled with equations. Isaac walked over, tone casual.
"Where's everyone else?"
"They went out for dessert. A new café opened downtown," Dante said, eyes still glued to the screen.
"Why didn't you go?"
Dante raised the tablet without looking up. "This class isn't gonna pass itself."
Isaac chuckled and sat across from him."Keegan went too?"
This time Dante looked up, smirking , that teasing grin that usually got under Isaac's skin… though not today.
"Yeah. Why, jealous your little buddy ditched you?"
Isaac stayed quiet, expression unreadable. He just… observed. The calm in his eyes seemed to unsettle Dante more than any comeback could.He hated it when Isaac didn't react, when he just sat there with that unreadable face, like nothing he said could ever get to him.
Then Isaac noticed something. "The sixth and eighth problems are wrong," He said matter-of-factly.
"Huh?" Dante blinked, confused.
"Those two. You did them wrong."
Dante stared at the tablet, clearly puzzled ."Why? I did it exactly like the professor showed us."
Isaac dragged his chair closer and took the stylus."Here, you mixed up the formulas," he explained, tapping on the screen. "When acceleration's constant, you should use v² = v₀..., not the one with time. Try it again this way ...see?"
Dante leaned closer, following his movements. After a moment, his lips curved into an amused smile. It wasn't smug or defensive, just genuine amusement at his own mistake.
"Ah, I see. I was using the uniform motion equation instead of the accelerated one."
"Exactly. Fix the rest like that and they'll check out."
"You're actually really good at explaining things," Dante said with a small grin. "Patient, too. Thanks."
Isaac gave a short nod, tone flat as usual. "You're welcome."But his eyes lingered on the redhead's face , on the little mole under his eye, on how bright his expression became when he understood something. That kind of reaction didn't fit the version of Dante he thought he knew. —Maybe I really don't know him at all —Isaac thought. And for reasons he couldn't explain, he wanted to.
They worked in silence for a while. Dante focused on his tablet, and Isaac quietly finished his lunch. Just as he stood to leave, Dante's voice stopped him.
"Do you play chess?"
Isaac frowned slightly. "Yeah. Why?"
"Let's play," Dante said, his smirk returning, this time lighter, more playful than mocking.
It was an unexpected invitation, but minutes later Isaac found himself in Dante's dorm room, sitting across from him as he arranged the board. Dante usually played with Ethan when he was stressed, but this time, Ethan wasn't around.
"No whining when I win," Dante teased.
Isaac said nothing, only nodded. His golden eyes stayed steady on the board, calm and unreadable. Something in that gaze made Dante's stomach tighten, not romantically, but out of pure competitive instinct. He wanted to win.
The game began. Isaac tried to focus, but he found his attention drifting toward Dante instead, the way he bit his lip when thinking, or smiled faintly when he realized a mistake. For someone who always tried to act like the bad guy, he had surprisingly soft expressions when he wasn't trying to pick a fight.
"Checkmate," Dante said proudly, leaning back with a grin.
Isaac stared at the board for a moment, processing, then exhaled through his nose.
"You're even worse than Ethan," Dante complained with exaggerated boredom, tilting his chair back.
Isaac narrowed his eyes. "Rematch."
The second game was different. Isaac focused , really focused, and this time, he won. Dante looked up, half annoyed, half impressed.
"Wait… did you let me win the first one?"
Isaac only shrugged.
They played again. And again. Three more times, and Isaac won every round.
Dante's irritation was clear, but so was his fascination. Finally, someone worth playing against, he thought, hiding the small smiles that kept slipping out between moves.
When Isaac finally stood, checking the time, Dante almost looked disappointed.
"I have to go," Isaac said.
"One more game," Dante insisted, eyes shining with determination.
Isaac hesitated, then gave in. Another round. Another win.
"Come on, Dante," Isaac said with a faint smirk. "Get better and beat me next time."
And with that, he left.
Dante stayed there, staring at the chessboard. He played through the same game again.
That night, a message from his mother shattered what little calm Dante had left. It was always like this.
The text was short: "Call me immediately."
Boom! — his heart skipped, his stomach twisted, and the familiar dread crept in. He didn't even think twice before dialing.
"What happened?" he greeted, voice flat.
"Every day you grow more disrespectful," Helena replied, her tone dripping with superiority, designed to make him feel small. "There's something I want you to explain to me, and I want the truth."
"What?" Dante's tone was dry, but the knot in his throat betrayed him. Helena was his waking nightmare, and he was about to relive it again.
"Why is MTM contacting me about a possible lawsuit regarding the unjustified suspension of a scholarship for someone named… Isaac Coltins? Or Curtis?"
"Collins," Dante corrected automatically, though his heart had stopped long before that.
"Oh, so you do know what I'm talking about," Helena replied, sharp as a knife. "What was that all about?"
Dante froze. He had no idea what to say. He already knew he was in trouble, but maybe, just maybe, she was bluffing.
"Sincerely… I don't know what you're talking about," he said, forcing his voice to sound calm. "I just know Isaac Collins. That's all."
Helena laughed, a low, cruel sound.
"Sincerely?" she repeated with mocking delight. "Do you take me for a fool, Dante? I'm offended you'd even try."
Her voice was venom. He stayed silent, and she went on, relentless.
"You're a liar, and a disgrace. Sincerely, you say…" she almost hissed the word "We traced the IP of the email sent to the university. It led straight to your laptop.So talk. Now, Dante Black."
Dante's heartbeat roared in his ears. His voice came out trembling."It was… a joke. Just a stupid joke that went too far, but I—"
"A joke?" Helena cut him off, furious. "A joke that could cost me thousands if that boy doesn't withdraw his complaint against the university! ...You have exactly five days to make him do it. If you don't, I'll speak to him myself , and trust me, you won't like how that goes."
"M-Mom, please—"
"Enough." Her voice turned razor-sharp. "What did you gain from this? From hurting him?"
Dante said nothing. He didn't have to, she already knew.
"Nothing, right?" Helena continued. "You're pathetic. A disgrace to the Black name. Using your resources to ruin someone's life without even getting something out of it? Shameful. You'll fix this, Dante. You'll talk to that boy before the five days are up, and you'll make it right."
The call ended.
Silence. Heavy. Suffocating.
Dante sat frozen on the edge of the bed.He was in deep trouble. How could he have forgotten something so cruel?
And what hurt most wasn't the threat itself, it was realizing that his mother didn't care about the damage he'd caused. She only cared that he hadn't gained anything from it. That thought made him sick.
He pressed his hands against his face.
How am I supposed to tell him?
How do I apologize for something like that?
He began pacing the room, mind spinning, anxiety rising like a tide. He bit his nails down to the skin without realizing it.
How could he look Isaac in the eye now? How could he tell him the truth, that he was the one who'd had his scholarship canceled, just to manipulate him into taking that photoshoot?
Ethan's words echoed in his mind. He'd been right all along.Isaac had every right to refuse the offer.
The shame hit harder with every thought. Not because he'd been caught, but because he'd finally seen himself through her eyes. And for the first time, he hated what he saw.
He sank onto the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. The sound of the clock ticked like a hammer in his chest.Every second pushed him closer to the moment he'd have to face Isaac.
"Maybe he'll forgive me," he whispered, though even he didn't believe it.