College life began faster than Anya expected, and before she could fully adjust, her days were already filled to the brim. Lectures, assignments, reading materials, and her part-time shifts at the cafe quickly formed a routine that left little room to pause. Central College was far larger than anything she had experienced before, with different school blocks spread across the campus, each one busy with its own flow of students and activities.
Although she and Alaric attended the same college, they rarely saw each other during the day.
Their classes were in different faculties, their schedules rarely aligned, and even when they had breaks, they were often too short or too far apart to meet. At first, Anya found it strange, almost unsettling, not having him beside her the way she had grown used to over the years.
But life moved forward, and she adapted.
They texted every day, sometimes in short messages between classes, sometimes longer conversations when they both had a moment to breathe. It was not the same as being physically together, but it was enough to remind her that he was still there, still close in a way that mattered.
The only time they truly saw each other was at night.
That evening, Anya sat at her desk, surrounded by open textbooks and scattered notes, her eyes scanning lines of text that were beginning to blur together. The room was quiet, lit only by the soft glow of her desk lamp. She had been reading for hours, determined to keep up with her coursework, even though fatigue was slowly catching up to her.
Her phone buzzed.
She reached for it without thinking, her expression softening the moment she saw his name.
Alaric:Are you still awake?
A small smile formed as she typed her reply.
Anya:Yes. Trying to finish some reading.
A few seconds later, her phone buzzed again.
Alaric:You've been studying all evening, haven't you?
She let out a quiet breath, leaning back slightly in her chair.
Anya:I have a lot to catch up on.
There was a brief pause before another message came through.
Alaric:Take a break. You're going to tire yourself out.
Anya glanced at the pages in front of her, hesitating.
Before she could reply, there was a soft knock on her door.
Her heart skipped.
She stood up quickly and opened it.
Alaric stood there, one hand resting lightly against the doorframe, his expression calm but carrying a quiet concern. He must have come back not long ago, his hair slightly damp as if he had just finished a shower.
"I thought you might still be up," he said.
Anya stepped aside to let him in. "I was just finishing a chapter."
His gaze shifted to the desk, taking in the spread of books and notes before returning to her. "You've been at this for hours."
"I didn't realize the workload would be this heavy," she admitted softly.
Alaric walked closer, stopping just beside her. "You don't have to push yourself this hard every night."
Anya looked down slightly. "I just don't want to fall behind."
He studied her for a moment, then reached out and gently placed his hand on top of her head, his touch light but grounding.
"You won't," he said quietly. "You're doing well."
The simple reassurance eased something in her chest.
"How was your day?" he asked, his tone softening.
Anya thought for a moment. "Busy," she said with a faint smile. "There's a lot to learn, and the classes move fast. But… I think I'm managing."
Alaric nodded, listening carefully. "Did you eat properly?"
She hesitated, then gave a small, guilty smile. "I had something quick between classes."
His brows drew together slightly. "That's not enough."
"I know," she admitted. "I'll do better tomorrow."
He did not press further, but the concern remained in his eyes.
After a moment, he reached out and gently closed the book in front of her.
"That's enough for tonight," he said.
"Alaric—"
"You need rest," he interrupted gently, his voice firm but not harsh.
Anya looked at him, then at her books, before finally letting out a quiet sigh. "Alright."
He gave a small nod, satisfied.
As she moved to tidy up her notes, he stayed close, his presence quiet but steady, as if simply being there was enough.
When she finished, she turned back to him.
"Goodnight," she said softly.
Alaric did not respond immediately.
Instead, he stepped closer, lifting his hand to brush a loose strand of hair away from her face. His fingers lingered for a brief moment against her cheek, warm and gentle.
"Goodnight, Anya," he said quietly.
Before she could react, he leaned in slightly and pressed a soft kiss against her forehead.
The touch was brief, but it sent a quiet warmth through her, settling somewhere deep in her chest.
He pulled back just enough to look at her, his gaze steady.
"Get some rest," he added.
Anya nodded, her cheeks faintly warm.
"I will."
He lingered for a moment longer, as if making sure she truly meant it, before finally turning and heading toward the door.
As it closed behind him, the room felt quiet again.
But not empty.
Anya stood there for a moment, her fingers lightly brushing her forehead where his lips had touched, a small, unconscious smile forming.
Then she turned off the light and went to bed, the weight of the day easing just a little more, knowing he was only a door away.
****
As the semester progressed, Alaric's schedule became just as demanding as Anya's, though in a very different way. His days began long before sunrise, often slipping out of the house while the city was still quiet. The early morning air carried a chill that most would avoid, but to him it was grounding. The forest behind the outskirts of Central City had become his training ground, a place where he could push his limits without restraint.
On days when he did not have morning classes, he allowed himself a few extra hours of rest, though even then his sleep was never deep or careless. His body had already adjusted to discipline, and idleness did not sit well with him. By the time Anya left for her classes or work, he was either already gone or just waking, their schedules barely overlapping except in passing.
At night, his responsibilities pulled him away again. Meetings with the pack, patrols, and training sessions filled the hours most people used to unwind. The role he was growing into demanded more from him with each passing day.
He was seeing less of her.
The realization lingered in the back of his mind even when he tried to focus on other things. Their conversations had been reduced to short messages and brief check-ins, and while he told himself she was adjusting well, that she was busy building her own life, it did not quiet the unease settling in his chest.
That night, the house was silent when he returned.
The lights in the hallway were dim, and the quiet atmosphere told him immediately that she had already gone to bed. He paused outside her door for a moment, his hand hovering near the handle as if he needed that brief second to steady himself before stepping in.
When he finally opened it, the soft glow of her bedside lamp illuminated the room just enough for him to see her clearly. She had fallen asleep over her notes again, her books slightly pushed aside, her breathing slow and even.
Alaric stepped inside quietly, closing the door behind him without a sound.
The moment he entered, her scent surrounded him.
It was soft, familiar, and dangerously comforting. It wrapped around him in a way that made something deep within him stir, something instinctive that he had spent weeks trying to keep under control. The closer he moved, the stronger it became, settling into his senses and pulling at him in a way that required effort to resist.
He exhaled slowly, steadying himself as he approached her bed.
She looked peaceful in her sleep, the tension of the day gone from her expression, her features softened in a way that made his chest tighten. For a moment, he simply stood there, watching her, letting the quiet settle between them in a way that felt both comforting and painfully distant.
He reached out carefully, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. His touch was gentle, almost hesitant, as if he was aware of how easily the moment could shift into something else if he allowed himself to linger too long.
"You're working too hard," he murmured softly, though he knew she could not hear him.
Leaning down, he pressed a quiet kiss to her forehead, the gesture familiar but carrying more weight than before. It was the only moment he allowed himself, the only closeness he permitted before pulling back again.
But even that small act required restraint.
The bond between them had grown stronger, more defined, and the distance they maintained during the day only seemed to intensify it at night. Standing this close to her, feeling her warmth, breathing in her scent, it became harder each time to hold back the instinct that urged him to close the distance completely, to claim what already felt like it belonged to him in every way that mattered.
His jaw tightened slightly as he straightened.
Not yet.
The thought came firmly, grounding him. He had made a promise, not just to her, but to himself. He would not rush her, would not take from her what she had not chosen to give freely.
Still, it did not make the restraint easier.
In fact, it was becoming harder.
The more time they spent apart, the stronger the pull felt when they were close again, as if something inside him was compensating for the distance by demanding more when given the chance. His control, once steady, now felt thinner, stretched in ways he had not anticipated.
He took a step back, forcing himself to create space before the moment lingered too long.
For a brief second, his gaze lingered on her again, memorizing the quiet rise and fall of her breathing, the softness of her expression, the presence that had become so essential to him that even a day without seeing her felt incomplete.
"I'll wait," he whispered under his breath, though it was unclear whether the promise was meant for her or for himself.
Then, with one final glance, he turned and left the room quietly, closing the door behind him.