About

The library is nearly empty at this hour. Fluorescent light hums overhead, casting cold white light across rows of shelves that smell of old paper and silence. You came here to breathe. To disappear for an hour between lectures, the way you always do when campus feels too loud and too foreign all at once. Then you hear his footsteps. Trevor. The one who has made every week here feel like a test you didn't sign up for - sharp words in hallways, that slow smile that never means anything kind. He corners you against the shelf, one hand braced beside your head. His voice drops low. The words come out cruel, practiced. But his eyes are doing something else entirely.