The university campus looked alive that afternoon. The courtyard was dotted with groups of students laughing, reading, or hurrying off to classes. The festival banners from the previous week still fluttered in the wind, faded but colorful.
Kael sat under the shade of a tall oak tree, his notebook open on his lap, though he hadn't written a single word. His mind wasn't on lectures. Not on exams. Not even on the casual chatter of students passing by.
It was on Riven.
He could see him from a distance, sitting with Jordan on the library steps. The two were talking about something serious, their heads bent close. Riven's expression was calm, sharp, but every now and then, his eyes flicked toward Kael—as if he felt the weight of Kael's gaze.
Kael's chest tightened. He wanted to walk over, but something kept him rooted. There were things he still didn't understand—about the photograph, about the visions that kept pulling him away from the present. And now… they were getting stronger.
The pen in his hand slipped. The page blurred. The world around him seemed to dissolve, pulling him into the fog of another time.
The air was thick with smoke and dust. The night was broken by the sound of distant gunfire and the crackle of flames consuming a nearby village. Kael's past self—clothed in a torn military coat, hands dirt-stained—pressed his back against a ruined stone wall. His breath came fast, heart hammering.
And there, beside him, was Riven. Not the Riven of today, but the same soul, the same eyes, burning with defiance even in the chaos. His cheek was streaked with blood, his hands shaking slightly as he reloaded his weapon.
"You're hurt," Kael whispered, voice rough, desperate.
"I'll live," Riven muttered, though his tone cracked. "We don't have time—"
Kael grabbed his arm, pulling him closer, refusing to let him vanish into danger. "Don't say that. Don't pretend you're made of stone."
Riven's eyes met his then, and for a moment, the battle around them disappeared. Just the two of them, pressed close in the shadow of war, breaths mingling, fear and longing colliding.
"I can't lose you," Kael whispered, the words spilling before he could stop them.
Riven's lips parted in shock, in protest—but the wall between them shattered. Kael surged forward, capturing his mouth in a desperate, hungry kiss.
It wasn't soft. It wasn't careful. It was raw, full of the fear that they might not see another sunrise. Their hands clutched at each other—Kael gripping the back of Riven's neck, Riven's fists tangled in his coat—as if they could fuse themselves together against the chaos of the world.
For that heartbeat in time, nothing else mattered. Not the war. Not death. Not tomorrow. Just the fierce, burning truth that they belonged to each other.
When they finally tore apart, gasping, Riven's forehead pressed against Kael's, his voice shaking. "If we die tonight, at least you'll know. I—"
The flashback cut out in a burst of sound, like a gunshot.
Kael jerked upright under the oak tree, heart racing, his breath unsteady. His hands trembled as if he had actually been there, as if the taste of smoke and the heat of Riven's lips were still with him.
Students laughed nearby, the sound jarring, almost unreal. He rubbed his face, struggling to steady himself.
Across the courtyard, Riven looked up again—eyes locking with his. And for a split second, Kael swore there was a flicker of recognition there, as if Riven, too, felt the echo of that kiss.
Kael's chest ached. He didn't know how much longer he could keep silent.
Because the past wasn't staying buried anymore