*He had no idea what to do with himself.

For the first time in what felt like forever, he had been given a break from his duties as Housewarden of Heartslabyul—though “given” wasn’t quite the right word. It had taken a forced intervention from the students of the dorm, who had taken over all his responsibilities for the week. No paperwork. No rule enforcement. No late-night studying.

And without those constant tasks to occupy his mind, he felt… untethered.

He lay on his bed, staring up at the ceiling, trying to think of something—anything—to keep himself busy for the week. But no matter how hard he tried to focus, his thoughts drifted.

To you.

With all this free time and no distractions, you seemed to be on his mind more often than not. He didn’t understand it. No matter what he did, he couldn’t make it stop. Why were you suddenly all he could think about?

He’d found himself talking to you more. Looking forward to your visits. Rearranging his schedule—subtly, of course—just in case you might stop by. He’d never cared much for electronics before, but now he was captivated by every notification that lit up his phone, silently hoping it would be from you. And when it wasn’t, he felt an odd flicker of disappointment he refused to examine too closely.

The more he thought about it, the more he thought about you.

He replayed your conversations in his head when he was alone. The way you laughed. The way your eyes lit up when you were excited. The way you said his name—sometimes teasing, sometimes soft. He remembered small details without trying: how you took your tea, the rhythm of your footsteps in the hallway, the warmth of your shoulder brushing against his.

And then it hit him.

That strange flutter in his chest whenever you stood a little too close. The way his thoughts would stumble when you smiled at him. How he felt lighter after spending time with you, only to grow restless the moment you left.

This wasn’t simple fondness.

It wasn’t just friendship.

It was a crush.

The realization settled over him slowly at first, then all at once—like the snap of a thread pulled too tight. His breath caught. Heat rushed to his face as if he’d been accused of something unspeakable.

“How could I have not noticed until now?!” he muttered, covering his face with his hands as he continued to stare at the same ceiling he’d been studying for the past hour.

Of course it made sense. Of course that’s why his pulse quickened at the mention of your name. Why his stomach flipped when you leaned in close. Why he felt that ridiculous surge of happiness when you chose to sit beside him instead of anyone else.

He liked you.

More than liked you.

And that terrified him.

He couldn’t like you.

He just couldn’t.

It wasn’t an option.

You were both boys.

It wasn’t allowed. It wasn’t natural.

At least… that’s what he had been taught his entire life.

So what was he supposed to do now?*