Alisus started recording everything.
Every "accidental" meeting in the hallway. Every strangely timed message. Every whisper when Iyan thought he was asleep.
His phone's storage filled up quickly.
He couldn't take it to the authorities—yet—but he could gather proof. Maybe it was stupid, maybe it was dangerous, but some small part of him needed to know if this was real.
If he was real.
If the terror gripping his chest every time Iyan's gentle voice wrapped around him was justified.
Because no matter how sweetly Iyan smiled…
He was always there.
Monday – 2:17 p.m.
He switched libraries.
Alisus didn't go to the main campus library that afternoon, instead sneaking off to the quiet one in the old humanities building.
He didn't tell anyone.
Didn't post. Didn't message.
And yet—
Two hours into his solitude, a shadow passed over his table.
A familiar scent. Orange peel and fresh soap.
Iyan placed a canned coffee beside his elbow.
"You forgot your usual," he whispered with a smile.
Alisus stared at the can. His fingers trembled.
"How did you find me?"
"You always go quiet when you're upset," Iyan said, pulling out the chair across from him. "I remembered how you used to hide here when you wanted to skip group projects."
Alisus forced a polite nod, biting his tongue.
But deep down, ice crawled across his spine.
He hadn't come here in years.
Monday – 11:09 p.m.
Alisus locked the door to the shared bathroom.
He'd taken to bringing his phone inside now. He placed it carefully on the counter, facing the door, before turning on the shower.
Letting the steam rise, he stared at his reflection in the foggy mirror.
Who was he anymore?
The villain?
The victim?
Or just a fool who still clung to the idea that someone like Iyan Zhou could ever be trusted?
When he came back to the room, Iyan was already under the blanket, half-asleep.
Only—
There were two steaming mugs of cocoa on the desk.
Both fresh.
And Alisus had never heard the kettle.
Tuesday – 9:34 a.m.
He took his phone to the tech club room during club hours. His voice was calm, casual.
"Hey, can I ask for a favor? Think someone's messing with my password. Can you check if there's any weird login activity?"
The club president, a quiet third-year, nodded. "Sure. Bring up your student portal."
A few minutes of typing later, she frowned.
"Um. There are zero flagged anomalies," she said. "Actually, your account's activity logs are... clean. Like, unusually clean."
Alisus stiffened. "What do you mean?"
"I mean they look edited. But you'd need admin-level clearance to sanitize logs like this."
His blood ran cold.
"What kind of admin-level?" he asked slowly.
"Well... the only ones who'd have that kind of access are IT admins, system monitors, or... staff with special privileges. Like campus assistants."
Alisus didn't speak.
Because Iyan had always been a star student.
He was a registered peer mentor.
And a campus digital ambassador.
Wednesday – 7:00 p.m.
"I'm transferring dorms," Alisus said flatly.
They were eating dinner in silence until then.
Iyan froze.
He had been cutting a tomato in half, carefully peeling away the skin with a paring knife like he always did when cooking for Alisus.
The blade paused mid-slice.
Alisus didn't miss the twitch in Iyan's jaw.
"I already told you I canceled that request," Iyan said gently. "Why bring it up again?"
Alisus stared at him. "You what?"
"I couldn't let you leave. You were clearly upset and not thinking straight."
"You forged my withdrawal."
"I just... helped us both calm down."
Alisus stood.
"That's not normal, Iyan. That's not—right."
Iyan placed the knife down slowly. The handle clicked against the counter.
Then he looked up.
His smile was still there. But his voice cracked with something tighter.
"Why are you making me sound like a monster?"
"Because you're acting like one."
That was the first time Alisus saw it.
The glimmer beneath Iyan's perfect mask.
The dark gleam in his eyes when his smile didn't reach them.
It was gone in a second.
Iyan took a deep breath and stepped forward, hands open. "Alis... you're scared. I get it. Maybe it's my fault. Maybe I clung too much. But I can't let you throw me away just because you're confused."
"I'm not confused," Alisus whispered. "I'm terrified."
And he left.
Or tried to.
Because when he opened the dorm door—
There was a package on the floor.
Wrapped in a navy silk ribbon.
With a note on top.
"You looked cold lately.
I love how soft you look in blue."
–I.Z.
Inside was a sweater.
Exactly his size.
Exactly his favorite color.
Midnight – Campus Stairwell
Alisus cried.
Not loudly.
Just the kind of silent tears that burned.
He curled up in a back stairwell, far from the dorms, clutching his phone. He played back the recordings.
Iyan's soft voice. His touches. His possessive words disguised as affection.
Each one built the case like a chain.
But the worst part?
Alisus couldn't stop shaking.
Because part of him missed the warmth.
The fake comfort.
The illusion that someone wanted him enough to go this far.
He hated that.
Hated himself for it.
Later — In the Room
When he came back, Iyan was awake.
Sitting on his bed.
Looking at the scarf in his lap—the one he'd gifted Alisus last winter.
"You used to wear this every time you were sick," Iyan said softly.
Alisus didn't respond.
"You smiled more back then."
"You didn't stalk me back then."
Iyan looked up. His gaze was tired, but not angry.
"I always looked out for you. Even when you didn't know. Even when you hated yourself."
"Maybe you should've let me go, then."
Iyan stood up and walked over slowly.
"I can't," he said, his voice gentle, nearly breaking. "Because if I do, you'll leave. And I don't know what I'll become without you."
Alisus whispered, "That's not love. That's possession."
Iyan leaned down. His lips brushed Alisus's forehead.
"No, Alisus. That's devotion."