The morning light should have felt like hope.
But Alisus Yan woke with dread swimming in his chest.
It wasn't the unfamiliar softness of his dorm bed or the fact that the world outside his window looked no different from before his death. It was the knowledge that he had lived this day already—in another life, in another ending that ended with blood.
The air still carried the scent of Iyan Zhou's coffee from yesterday. Too warm. Too gentle. Too... comfortable.
Alisus sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the steaming mug still resting untouched on the desk. Iyan had brought it with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. He'd spoken softly, like he always had, but the weight behind each word stuck like pins under skin.
"Did I do something wrong?"
"You had a nightmare again, didn't you?"
"I'll always be here when you need me."
Those words repeated in his head.
Over and over.
Too familiar. Too scripted.
He couldn't shake the unease that settled in his bones. The kind that said something was watching him, breathing down the back of his neck even when the room was silent.
Alisus dressed quickly, grabbing his bag and slipping out of the dorm room before Iyan could wake.
He needed space. And more than that—
He needed answers.
10:32 a.m. — Literature Class
Alisus sat at the back row, eyes fixed on his notes but barely reading them. His mind was too loud. Every little sound made him flinch. Every time the classroom door clicked open, his shoulders tensed.
The seat beside him remained empty.
Iyan hadn't come to class yet.
Was he angry?
Upset?
Wounded?
Alisus didn't know—and that was the problem.
He used to think he knew Iyan Zhou. The sweet, soft-spoken boy who always tried to do the right thing. He remembered how Iyan would walk him home after group studies, how he'd give him his own scarf on cold mornings, how he'd wait at the back gate if Alisus had a club meeting late at night.
It felt real then.
It was real, wasn't it?
Except it wasn't. It never had been.
I was the villain, he reminded himself.
I was never the protagonist.
And Iyan Zhou—he wasn't just the kind best friend.
He was the center of the story.
12:45 p.m. — Cafeteria
Alisus skipped lunch and stayed on the rooftop instead. The cold wind bit at his skin, but it felt better than the warmth of the crowded dining hall where Iyan usually sat—right across from him, close enough to brush knees under the table.
His phone vibrated.
He glanced down.
Iyan:
"You skipped class and lunch. Are you okay? "
"I saved you a sandwich from the café. Your favorite. It's in our dorm fridge. Don't go hungry again, Alis."
He didn't reply.
Another buzz.
Iyan:
"Come back soon? I miss talking to you."
His fingers hovered over the keyboard.
Delete.
No reply.
3:30 p.m. — Library
Alisus stayed out late, watching the clock on his phone tick past minute after minute. Maybe if he stayed long enough, Iyan would leave the dorm room and go to sleep early. Maybe he could just quietly return, avoid everything—
"Alis?"
The voice sent a jolt down his spine.
He turned slowly.
Iyan stood by the library entrance, hair slightly tousled like he'd run, cheeks pink with cold. His arms were crossed over his chest as if he'd been standing there for a while. Waiting.
His smile was soft, but his eyes didn't blink.
"Why are you avoiding me?" he asked.
Alisus didn't answer. His mouth felt dry.
Iyan stepped closer, placing a hand gently on the edge of Alisus's desk.
"Did I do something wrong?" he repeated, almost in a whisper.
"No," Alisus said quickly. "I just… need some space."
Iyan tilted his head. "From me?"
"Yes."
Silence.
The smile on Iyan's lips twitched but held steady.
"I thought we were best friends," he said quietly. "We've always been together. You always said you hated being alone."
That was true. Past him had said that.
Before death.
Before betrayal.
"I changed," Alisus replied. "I need to focus on myself now."
Iyan's eyes didn't leave his face.
Then, with the softest laugh, Iyan said, "Of course. I understand." He reached out and fixed a strand of hair falling into Alisus's eyes. "I'll give you space, then."
Alisus flinched.
"Sorry," Iyan added immediately, drawing his hand back like he'd touched a flame. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."
Alisus stared at him.
He seemed so genuinely apologetic. So gentle.
But why did it feel like he was failing a test with every word he said?
That night
Alisus requested a dorm transfer.
The form required only a few details—a signature, a reason. He wrote one sentence:
"Irreconcilable differences with current roommate."
He didn't specify Iyan's name. He didn't need to.
He submitted the form through the university's student portal and closed the tab quickly.
Finally, he thought.
Maybe this would give him the breathing room he needed.
Next morning
The email came back at 6:02 a.m.
Subject: Dorm Transfer Request – Denied
"Your request to change dormitories has been withdrawn per your previous email confirmation. If this is an error, please contact Student Affairs."
Alisus stared at the message.
His hands shook.
He had never sent a withdrawal request.
He checked the log history. The form had been canceled only three hours after submission—by someone using his credentials.
A sudden knock on the dorm door made him drop his phone.
"Alis?" Iyan's soft voice drifted in from behind the door. "I brought breakfast again. Your favorite."
He didn't move.
"I know you've been feeling distant," Iyan continued, tone full of concern. "But I just want to understand. Please let me in?"
The door handle rattled gently.
Then silence.
Then, a whisper.
"Please don't leave me."
It wasn't loud.
It wasn't dramatic.
But it hit Alisus like a blade between the ribs.
He backed away from the door, slowly, every step a question.
Did he know?
Did Iyan find out about the form?
Did he forge the withdrawal himself?
Alisus had no proof.
But he had a growing suspicion.
That everything around him—the warmth, the kindness, the soft touches and gentle eyes—
Was a web.
And he was the fly.
Later that night
Iyan lay on his bed across the room, the light from his desk lamp casting a glow on his pale features.
Alisus pretended to sleep, facing the wall.
He heard Iyan typing. Pausing. Breathing.
Then came the whisper. So low he barely caught it.
"I missed you even when you were dead."
Alisus froze.
His heart stopped.
Then came a soft sigh from Iyan's side, followed by the click of the lamp.
Darkness swallowed the room.
But Alisus couldn't sleep.
Because even in the dark, he felt eyes on him.
And a story—his story—that was supposed to end was only beginning again.