The fluorescent lights inside the boys' changing room flickered once, briefly, as though uncertain whether to continue their duty. The air was heavy with the residual presence of authority—the watchman's intrusion had not yet dissipated. Somewhere beyond the lockers, his footsteps moved deeper into the room, measured and suspicious, his voice echoing faintly against tiled walls.
"Hello? Is someone here?"
The sound carried poorly, distorted by metal and distance, but it was close enough to register as threat.
Behind the lockers, space collapsed into a narrow crevice where privacy ceased to exist. Lilith and Mily stood pressed into that confined geometry, bodies forced into proximity by circumstance rather than consent. Lilith turned slightly, lips parting as he leaned toward her, his voice already lowered to a whisper.
"Mily, can yo—"
She did not allow the sentence to complete itself.
Mily's hand shot up, fingers gripping the fabric at his collar with a suddenness that betrayed calculation rather than impulse. She pulled him down and kissed him—deeply, decisively—severing language at its root. The interruption was absolute.
Lilith's eyes widened, shock registering not theatrically but as a momentary failure of comprehension. His body stiffened, caught between resistance and stillness, as though the situation had bypassed his conscious mediation entirely.
Mily's eyes were shut tight, lashes trembling against her cheeks. Whatever resolve had driven the action did not extend to composure. Inside her, thought narrowed into a single, repetitive plea, stripped of dignity and logic alike.
Whoever it is… please leave… please just go away…
The watchman stopped moving.
The pause stretched, fragile and dangerous. Somewhere near the lockers, he shifted his weight, listening. Then, after a moment that felt deliberately prolonged, his voice surfaced again—dismissive now, almost bored.
"I thought I heard something… ah… never mind."
The lights clicked off without ceremony. Darkness settled abruptly, thickened by the sound of the door closing and the retreating rhythm of footsteps fading into irrelevance.
Silence followed—not the peaceful kind, but the kind that demands acknowledgment.
Mily was still kissing him.
Only now did awareness arrive.
Her body reacted before her mind could defend itself. Heat rushed to her face, color blooming violently across her cheeks. She pulled back instinctively, breath uneven, posture collapsing inward with belated embarrassment.
Lilith recovered first.
He placed his hands on her shoulders and pushed her back—not roughly, but firmly enough to reestablish distance. His expression was controlled, though confusion lingered in the set of his brows.
"Why did you do that, Mily?"
She turned her face away, gaze fixed on nothing in particular, as though eye contact might finalize the mistake.
"You weren't shutting your mouth," she muttered, the explanation arriving too quickly to sound convincing. "I had no choice."
Lilith scratched the back of his head and exhaled, a sound closer to resignation than irritation.
"Ah… never mind. Let's go."
He turned away, shoulders straightening, expression closing off with practiced efficiency.
"It was my fault anyway," he added without looking back. "Sorry about that."
He had taken only a step when Mily reached out and grabbed the back of his shirt. The fabric wrinkled under her grip, anchoring him in place.
Lilith stopped.
She leaned forward until her forehead rested against his back, the contact hesitant, almost apologetic. Her body trembled faintly, as though bracing against a cold she had only just noticed.
"I'm sorry for kissing you," she said, voice unsteady. "I really didn't mean to."
When she lifted her head, tears had gathered—not yet fallen, but present enough to alter her vision.
"Lilith…" Her voice softened, stripped of defense. "Did you really hate it when I kissed you?"
He remained silent. His calm was unnerving in its completeness.
After a moment, she spoke again, the words barely audible, as though offering them might diminish their legitimacy.
"It was my first kiss."
Lilith exhaled slowly.
"…Sigh. Let's go. It's already too late."
He moved forward again. This time, she did not resist. Her fingers loosened, the fabric slipping free from her grasp. She watched his back recede by inches, the distance small yet intolerably familiar.
As his shirt left her hand, the sensation echoed something old—an earlier moment, eight years ago—when separation had arrived without ceremony and continued indefinitely.
It feels the same, she thought. Like he's going farther and farther away from me.
Then he turned back.
Without comment, Lilith reached out and took her hand. The gesture was unremarkable in its simplicity, which made it all the more destabilizing.
Mily looked up, shock registering first, then something softer. Her expression shifted, unguarded, luminous in its relief.
Lilith flushed faintly in response, the reaction betraying him despite himself.
They stopped at his locker.
"Lilith…" Mily hesitated. "How are we going to get out? I think it's locked now."
He opened the locker calmly, the metal door creaking softly.
"Don't worry," he said. "I have keys—even if it's locked."
He pulled out a black leather jacket and slipped it on with practiced ease. Then, unlocking the door, he led them outside.
The air greeted them immediately—soft but sharp, winter asserting itself with quiet confidence.
Mily shivered, eyes lowered. "It's colder today…"
Lilith reached behind her and lifted her backpack off her shoulders, slinging it over one of his own.
"What are you doing?" she asked, startled.
"It looks heavy," he replied simply. "I'll carry it."
She followed him, steps hesitant, thoughts tangling.
Is he… worried about me?
They walked through the campus paths, shadows long and indistinct under sparse lighting.
He still takes care of me like before, she observed. But sometimes it feels like he doesn't care at all.
Her gaze lingered on his back. He's such a stubborn kid.
She studied him more carefully now.
When did he get this tall?
The thought startled her. He's more handsome than before…
Heat crept up her neck.
Even from behind… he's hot.
She recoiled internally. What am I thinking? I look like a pervert.
Lilith turned slightly.
"Hey, Mily."
She jumped. "Yes?!"
He regarded her neutrally. "I've been calling you. What are you thinking so deeply about?"
"It's nothing," she said quickly, looking away.
"And why are you walking behind me?" he asked. "Come here."
He took her hand naturally, as though it required no justification. Her face warmed again, attention narrowing to the contact.
His hand… it's so warm.
They reached the main college gate.
It was locked.
Mily froze. "There must be guards! Let's look for them!"
Lilith remained calm. "Please don't cry. Let's see if anyone's here."
He let go of her hand and stepped away. Panic surged immediately.
She grabbed his sleeve, eyes already glassy. "Please don't leave me here alone!"
He sighed and returned, taking her hand again.
"…Okay. Come with me."
Time passed. They checked all three gates. All locked.
Mily sagged visibly. "I can't walk anymore… my legs are hurting."
"It was your idea to check all three gates," Lilith replied evenly. "Now you've seen there's no one."
She bit her nails, embarrassment and exhaustion warring openly. They stood near Gate Three, surrounded by layered silhouettes of campus buildings—the main structure distant, unreachable.
Lilith shifted the bag to his front and knelt.
"Here," he said. "Hop on my back. I can't watch you cry."
Mily blushed, then climbed onto him.
He's so warm.
Lilith straightened and began walking, her weight steady against him.
"I think we'll have to stay on campus until morning," he said.
The words landed quietly, without drama.
And in that stillness, Mily realized something devastating—not that she had kissed him, not that they were stranded, not even that the past had resurfaced—but that closeness did not guarantee permanence.
Sometimes, care survives long after certainty has died.
Mily's body stiffened against Lilith's back as the implication of his words settled with unpleasant clarity. The campus around them was inert—paths empty, buildings closed, night pressing in with administrative indifference.
"No way!" she blurted, panic leaking into her voice before she could discipline it. "I'm not staying all night here!"
Lilith did not slow. His posture remained upright, balanced, as though her alarm were a predictable variable rather than a disruption.
"It's not like I want to either," he replied evenly. "We don't have a choice."
She leaned closer, her mouth near his ear, and raised her voice in a way that ignored proximity and consequence alike.
"Then take out your phone and call someone to open the gate!"
The sudden volume made him flinch—just slightly, a brief tightening at the neck.
"Stop shouting In My ears."
From behind him, Mily studied the line of his shoulders, the controlled cadence of his steps. A memory surfaced uninvited—smaller versions of them, a boy who scolded her for noise, a girl who learned to quiet herself to be tolerated.
When we were kids, he used to scold me for shouting,
Now… he's so calm. He really changed.
"I'm not calling anyone," voice firm enough to foreclose negotiation.
She blinked. "Why not?"
He continued walking, gaze forward.
"I don't want to, And if you want to, then call your beloved friends—or your father—to pick you up."
The words were delivered casually, but the hierarchy beneath them was unmistakable. Choice existed; authority decided who could exercise it.
Her shoulders sank.
"No one will come…" she said quietly. "I live alone here. Father will not be able to come here."
They walked in silence after that, the rhythm of their movement unbroken, the absence of conversation heavier than argument.
After a while, Mily spoke again, voice smaller now.
"How long until we reach the main campus?"
"We're almost there,"
She flushed faintly, surprised by the absence of irony.
I expected a sarcastic answer from him, she admitted internally. But he's being gentle.
"Where are you comfortable staying?" he asked, as if discussing logistics rather than shelter. "The changing room or the library?"
"Library?" she echoed, confused.
He lifted his hand slightly, letting a set of keys catch the light.
"I have the library key too."
Shock registered openly on her face. "How do you even have keys on your first day?"
"I asked the teacher," he explained without emphasis. "He asked my name and my father's name. Then he gave me the keys."
After a beat, he added, as if remembering an unimportant detail, "Maybe because my father owns this college."
Mily twisted slightly in disbelief, annoyance flickering through her thoughts.
How rich is he, actually…?
They reached the main campus building. Lilith bent and set her down with practiced care. She pointed ahead.
"The lab is on the second floor."
They climbed the stairs together, hands linked—an intimacy so natural it felt rehearsed, though neither could recall practicing it.
"Where is it?"
"At the corridor's end,"
As they walked, he glanced at the bag slung over his shoulder.
"Why is your bag so heavy?"
She smiled brightly, a reflex. "Snacks."
"You'll become a pig if you eat this much junk," he said bluntly.
Her smile faltered.
I take it back,He didn't change at all.
She pouted. "Fine. I'll stop eating from tomorrow."
"Do whatever you want, It's none of my business. Sorry for interfering."
She froze mid-step, the words landing with surgical precision.
He used to stop me from eating junk, she realized. So he doesn't even see me as a friend anymore…
Lilith glanced at her from the corner of his eye—briefly, unreadably—then reached the library door and unlocked it.
Inside, the library stretched vast and solemn: long wooden tables aligned with institutional symmetry, shelves rising like quiet sentinels. Time passed without announcement.
Lilith stood by a shelf, reading. Mily sat at a table, shivering despite herself.
He noticed. Without comment, he removed his jacket and placed it over her shoulders, the gesture gentle, almost formal.
She looked down at the jacket, surprised by its weight, its warmth.
He turned away immediately, as though lingering would cheapen the act.
She caught his hand before he could withdraw fully, fingers tightening with desperate clarity.
"Lilith…" Her voice trembled. "Be honest with me. What do you feel about me?"
He did not turn. "What do you mean?"
Her composure fractured.
"Your harsh words… your cold face…" Tears escaped despite her effort to contain them. "It feels like you don't care about me. Do you really hate me that much?"
He turned then.
His blue eyes were calm—too calm—and the steadiness of that gaze frightened her more than anger would have.
Without warning, he cupped her face with both hands and kissed her deeply. The action was decisive, leaving no room for misinterpretation.
She froze, then softened, accepting the kiss as tears continued to fall.
When he pulled back, his voice was gentle.
"I love you, Mily."
His eyes held hers steadily.
"I love you more than anything in this world."
She smiled through tears. "I love you too, Lilith. I love you so much."
He removed his hands from her face slowly, deliberately, as though withdrawing permission rather than touch.
His expression settled into something calm—cold.
"But Mily, we can't stay together."
The sentence ended the moment more effectively than any door could.