The email arrives mid-afternoon, threaded through a chain Juni doesn't recognize.
Procedural clarification requested.
That's the phrase. Neutral. Bloodless.
Juni reads it twice, then a third time, looking for accusation. There isn't one. No allegation. No tone sharp enough to resist. Just a request for alignment—roles, disclosures, documentation.
By the time they gather in the seminar room, the atmosphere has changed. Not hostile. Narrow.
A faculty coordinator clears her throat. "This isn't disciplinary," she says carefully. "It's preventative. We want to ensure transparency across collaborations."
Elian nods once, posture calm. "Understood."
Juni feels the room's attention drift—soft, assessing. Their relationship isn't named, but it doesn't need to be. It's present as implication.
"We're being asked," the coordinator continues, "to clarify potential conflicts of interest."
Juni raises his hand. His voice is steady when he speaks. "Could you specify what qualifies as a conflict in this context?"
There's a pause. Papers shuffle.
"Personal relationships," someone offers, not unkindly. "When one participant may be perceived as having influence."
Juni doesn't flinch. "Perceived by whom?"
The question lands. Not confrontational—precise.
Elian follows smoothly. "If the concern is influence, then the remedy is structure. Clear deliverables. Independent review. Not assumptions."
Heads nod. Notes are taken.
Still, something has shifted. The collaboration is no longer just work. It's work under watch.
After the meeting, Juni and Elian walk side by side down the corridor, steps matched but quiet.
"They didn't accuse us," Juni says.
"No," Elian agrees. "They reframed us."
"As a variable," Juni finishes.
Elian exhales. "That's the risk of procedure. It pretends neutrality while choosing what to examine."
Juni glances at him. "You sounded like you've done this before."
Elian doesn't deny it. "I've watched rooms like that since I was a kid."
They stop at the doors leading outside. Afternoon light spills in, ordinary and bright.
"I don't want to be the thing that complicates your work," Juni says softly.
Elian turns fully toward him. "You're not. The system is."
Juni nods, absorbing that distinction. It helps—but it doesn't erase the weight.
Terms and conditions aren't threats.
They're boundaries drawn by institutions that prefer predictability to people.
And for the first time since university began, Juni understands that love doesn't need to be loud to be scrutinized.
It only needs to exist.