Dawn had only just begun to lighten the sky when a thin strand of pale light slipped into the dorm room.
Noah opened his eyes slowly. The dream ended in darkness, desire running wild, a woman's soft voice murmuring in his ear: Sleep. When you wake up, forget all of this.
Nearly six or seven years had passed, yet the memory still lingered somewhere deep inside him. Back then he had been immature, overwhelmed by confusion and pain. Now, grown and fully aware of his body, the same memory returned in a different way.
Why was he reliving that evening in his dreams?
He reached down instinctively and froze when his fingers confirmed what he already suspected. His ears flushed red.
His roommates were still asleep. He climbed down quietly, grabbed a fresh pair of underwear, and slipped into the bathroom.
A few minutes later, after washing and hanging up what he'd changed out of, he dressed and left with his books. When he reached the classroom, there was still almost an hour before class.
A message popped up on his screen.
Evelyn: Did you eat breakfast? Want me to bring you something?
Noah: Not yet. Thank you, sis.
He rested his head on the desk and dozed lightly.
About ten minutes later, someone brushed a hand over his hair.
"Why are you sleeping here? You'll catch a cold."
"Sis… you came this early too."
"You showed up so early, so I came to keep you company." Evelyn handed him a warm egg pancake.
He took a bite and asked, "How did you know I was already here?"
"That…" She smiled faintly, something unreadable in her expression. "You don't need to know. Didn't sleep well? You're up pretty early."
The question dragged him right back into the dream. A glimpse of her flushed face, breath unsteady, flashed through his mind. Heat crept up his neck.
"Why are you blushing? What did you dream about?"
"Nothing. Just random stuff."
"Tell me." She cupped his face, forcing him to meet her eyes. "I want to know."
"Really, it's nothing. Sis, people are coming in."
"Was it about me?"
He swallowed. There was no way he could tell her the truth. He couldn't possibly say, I dreamed about that night years ago.
"If you don't tell me, you don't get to eat." She snatched the half-eaten pancake from his hand and took a bite herself.
"I already ate half…"
"So? Disobedient boys don't get rewards." She studied his expression. "You definitely dreamed about me."
He exhaled slowly. "Fine. I dreamed about when I was little and we used to bathe together."
"You stopped doing that when you were six."
"Yeah. A long time ago."
She handed the pancake back. He didn't hesitate to bite where she had.
"When you were little, you used to cling to me. Always wanted to bathe together." She laughed softly. "If Mom and Dad hadn't stopped you, you would've seen everything."
"I was a kid. It didn't mean anything."
"Then why are you still blushing?"
"Because…"
He couldn't finish the sentence. She waited, smiling faintly, watching him squirm.
"If you can't answer, then I'm right."
She flicked his forehead lightly. "You took advantage of me back then. How are you going to compensate me?"
"Do we really have to settle childhood debts?"
"I didn't have the heart to collect back then." Her eyes curved. "What about now?"
"I don't have anything to give you. Just take whatever you want."
"Oh?" She lifted his chin with one finger, studying his face thoughtfully. "Then I suppose I'll just take you."
He blinked calmly, still chewing.
"Not scared?"
"You wouldn't actually sell me."
"You're right. I wouldn't." She withdrew her hand. "But if you keep being disobedient, be careful I don't break you."
The classroom door opened. A few girls entered, laughing. Evelyn straightened the papers on the desk and said lightly, "Pay attention in class," before heading to the podium.
Noah nodded.
A few moments later, Nora approached with her friends and hesitated before sitting beside him.
"Where'd you get that pancake? The cafeteria only sells wraps."
"My sister brought it. She probably made it."
"Professor Miller treats you really well."
"She always has." He shrugged. "She's just a little strict sometimes."
Nora continued chatting, asking about Evelyn in a tone that tried to sound casual.
Noah didn't mind. Talking about Evelyn had always come naturally to him.
He never noticed the shift in Evelyn's gaze from across the room. Cold. Watchful.
Like something waiting patiently, quietly calculating when to strike.
—
"Evelyn… Evelyn, slow down. I can't run anymore."
"That tired already?" Evelyn stopped and turned, watching Noah bent over with his hands on his knees, breath coming in sharp pulls. "You seemed pretty energetic this morning talking to that girl."
"What? No… Are you jealous?"
Her lips pressed together, soft pink and almost amused, then she reached out and tugged his face upward, forcing him to look at her. "Yeah. I'm jealous. Did you enjoy chatting with her? Planning to take her out, maybe dinner, maybe shopping?"
"No. We were just talking. Can we rest for a second?"
"No. One more lap. At least finish this one." She didn't wait for him to argue. She grabbed his hand and pulled him forward, accelerating into the dark without giving him space to resist.
The campus at night was nearly empty, dorm windows glowing faintly, the library lights floating in the distance like something fragile against the vast black sky. The air smelled faintly of damp grass and fallen leaves, insects humming somewhere beyond the path.
"Evelyn… please… my legs are dying."
His voice fractured between breaths, but she kept running, fingers laced tight with his, her grip firm and unyielding, almost punitive in its insistence. He tried once to slow her, his muscles tightening, but she pulled harder, and he gave in—jaw clenching, lungs burning—until finally, near a narrow tree-lined path, she let go.
He collapsed onto the ground, sweat sliding down his temples in heavy drops.
"Sit. I'll grab water."
"Okay…"
He shifted and stretched out along a bench, the cold metal pressing against his overheated back, sending a rush of relief through his skin. The contrast made him shiver faintly despite the sweat still clinging to him.
Under the streetlights, shadows of leaves trembled across his body. The night was quiet, almost too quiet.
When he was younger, he used to walk everywhere with her. Morning and evening, miles at a time. He would brag about growing stronger, about protecting her someday. Back then it felt simple.
In second grade she moved to the middle school next door, and on Fridays he would race to the gates just to wait for her. Girls would tease him, trying to pinch his cheeks, and she would always pull him away, possessive even then, holding him close.
Looking back, he realized it had always been like that. She guarded him.
Except when it came to Lila.
That was the one time she loosened her grip. He could still picture those afternoons in the park, running with Lila while Evelyn watched from a distance, her expression unreadable.
At the time he had never understood what lingered behind that stillness.
Something soft landed across his face.
Her running shirt.
The faint scent of her perfume mixed with sweat filled his lungs, warm and intimate, and a bottle of water thudded lightly against the bench beside him.
"Don't catch a chill."
"Then why'd you take your shirt off?"
"I'm still sweating." She sat down beside him, athletic tank top clinging to her torso, exposing the smooth line of her waist. Her ponytail swung lightly behind her neck, and sweat traced slow lines along her skin before disappearing beneath fabric.
He stared before he realized he was staring.
The scent, the heat still radiating from her body, the closeness—his throat tightened, his chest rising just slightly faster than before, though the run had already ended. He looked away too late.
She noticed.
"Enjoying the view?" Her eyes curved at the edges. "You've been staring at my chest for a while."
"I wasn't." He pulled his gaze back quickly. "I was looking at your face."
"Which one's prettier?"
"I told you, I wasn't looking."
She smiled, almost indulgent. "If you say so."
"Is the bench comfortable? Want a better pillow?"
"It's fine."
Still, he shifted, then slowly rested his head in her lap.
The warmth was immediate. The fabric of her leggings soft against his cheek, the subtle give of her thighs beneath him. For a second he forgot to breathe.
From that angle, the curve of her chest was unavoidable, defined beneath dark athletic fabric. His jaw tightened. He forced his gaze upward to the sky.
"In a few days you've got your fitness test," she said lightly. "I scored in the nineties."
"You've always been good at everything."
"When you were little," she continued, brushing her fingers slowly through his hair, "all the neighbors used to tell their kids to be more like me."
He remembered. The comparisons.
His father gone, his mother working constantly, Evelyn stepping in quietly, never demanding too much from him, never pushing hard.
"Just pass," she murmured. "That's enough. As long as you listen to me, you'll be fine."
"You sound like Mom."
"She was busy working. So I had to take care of you."
She picked up her shirt and pulled it back on, fabric sliding down over warm skin.
"Alright. Let's go. You've been staring long enough."
"I wasn't."
"Up. You're sleeping at my place tonight. You still need your milk."
His stomach tightened at the reminder.
Back at her dorm, steam fogged the bathroom mirror as they showered one after the other. When he stepped out, hair still damp, the milk was waiting on the desk, faint steam rising from its surface.
He sat on the edge of the bed and drank slowly.
It was warm. Slightly bitter beneath the sweetness. The heat traveled down his throat and spread through his chest, then lower, into his limbs. His muscles loosened without his permission. His eyelids felt heavier with each swallow.
She touched his shoulder gently.
"Sleepy?"
"Yeah…"
She raised her hand, and the old pocket watch dangled before his eyes, swinging left, right, left, right in slow, steady arcs.
"Look at it."
"You're not actually hypnotizing me, are you?"
"Just look."
The motion was steady. Predictable. His breathing slowed to match it. The ticking filled the quiet room, louder than it should have been. The air felt thick.
His fingers twitched once, like he meant to push it away, but the impulse faded before it reached his arm.
"I'm tired," he murmured.
"Lie down."
She eased him back against the mattress, leaned close, her breath warm against his ear.
"Noah," she whispered softly, her voice almost gentle, "you belong to me."
The words settled in the dim room, heavier than they sounded.
For a second, something in his chest tightened—a faint resistance, a thought forming—but the warmth in his bloodstream dulled it, softened it, blurred its edges until it was no more than a distant ache.
He did not answer.
He only lay there, eyes closed, breathing slow, while the ticking of the watch lingered in the quiet, and her presence remained beside him long after the words had faded.