The evening sky outside her dorm window melted into a soft gradient of violet and gold, the kind of twilight that made the world feel quieter than usual. She sat on her bed, hugging her knees, listening to the faint hum of campus life outside—the footsteps, the laughter, the doors opening and closing. Normally, she found comfort in those sounds. Tonight, they only made her feel more alone.
Her phone buzzed.
She thought it would be him.
It wasn't.
Just a classmate, asking about homework. She stared at the notification until it disappeared, a heavy disappointment settling low in her stomach. Ever since their last conversation—intense, honest, a little too raw—he had been quieter than usual. Not gone, not distant… just controlled. Like he was trying not to cross a line he had already crossed a hundred times before.
She checked her phone again.
Still nothing.
Her chest tightened.
She wanted to text him. She wanted to tell him she missed him. She wanted to ask why he hadn't said goodnight last night, why he didn't call this afternoon like he usually did.
But she also didn't want to be clingy.
She lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling.
Maybe he was working. Maybe he was tired. Maybe he—
The door to her dorm suddenly knocked.
Her heart jumped so hard she sat up immediately.
"…Who?" she called out.
A familiar voice answered, low and steady—
"It's me."
Her breath caught.
She rushed to the door, opened it—and there he stood, dressed in his usual neutral-toned clothes, hair slightly messy from the wind, eyes searching her face instantly.
"Why are you here?" Her voice came out smaller than she intended.
His answer was simple.
"You didn't sound okay when you texted earlier."
"I didn't text you anything."
"Yes," he said, stepping inside gently, "and that's exactly why I came."
She blinked.
Her throat tightened again.
"You disappeared yesterday…" she whispered. "You didn't say goodnight."
He sighed softly, closing the door behind him. "I wasn't avoiding you. I just needed to clear my head."
"About me?"
"About everything," he admitted. "About how fast this is happening. About how much I…" He paused, jaw tightening slightly. "How much I care."
Her breath stilled.
He stepped closer, his eyes never leaving hers.
"And I didn't say goodnight because I knew if I did, I'd go to you. And if I went to you, I wouldn't leave."
She swallowed.
She was trembling—not from fear, but from the depth of his words.
"You make it hard for me to keep distance," he said quietly.
She didn't move.
He came closer.
Closer.
Until his hand gently cupped her cheek, thumb brushing the warmth rising there.
"I'm trying to do things right with you," he murmured. "Not rush. Not lose control. But every time I see you… every time I hear your voice…" His voice dropped even lower. "It gets harder."
Her heart was pounding so fast she couldn't speak.
She finally breathed out, barely audible.
"I don't want distance."
He looked at her—really looked at her—and something in his expression finally cracked.
"I know," he whispered.
His forehead touched hers, the warmth of him grounding her completely.
"And that's why I'm here."
She closed her eyes, letting herself lean into him, letting all the tension melt away. For the first time in days, she didn't feel alone. She felt safe. Seen. Wanted.
And when his hand gently slid to the back of her head, pulling her into his chest, she knew he felt the same.
Not running.
Not hiding.
Not this time.