Win stared at his laptop screen, cursor blinking in the empty document. The apartment was quiet around him, Parin having retreated to his own room after their return from dinner. The conversation in the elevator kept replaying in his mind—the way Parin had looked genuinely confused when Win thanked him, as if standing up for his brother should have been automatic.
You know you didn't have to do that.
Of course I did.
Maybe things between them weren't as broken as Win had thought. Maybe Parin really was trying to bridge the gap that had grown between them. The realization should have been comforting, but instead it made Win's chest tight with guilt. Here was his twin, making an effort to connect, while Win sat in his room night after night pouring his secrets onto the internet for strangers to read.
His phone buzzed with notifications from the fiction site—comments, kudos, people begging for the next chapter of "Summer's End." The response had been overwhelming, far beyond anything Win had expected when he'd uploaded that first chapter. Students across campus were talking about Alex and Kai, analyzing every line, creating theories about what would happen next.
Win opened a new browser tab and navigated to the story. The comment count had nearly tripled since this morning, and he scrolled through them, heart racing at each reaction.
This is exactly how it feels to be invisible in your own family. Thank you for writing this.
The way Alex describes waiting to be chosen hit me so hard. I felt seen.
The chemistry between them is incredible! I can't wait to see where this goes.
Win's throat tightened as he read comment after comment from people who saw themselves in Alex's story, who understood the particular ache of feeling overlooked and unworthy. He'd written from his own pain, but somehow he'd captured something universal, something that resonated with dozens of other people who felt just as lost as he did.
He found himself typing a response as InvisibleHeart:
Thank you all for reading and sharing your hearts in these comments. Alex's story isn't over yet. Sometimes the people we need to choose us are closer than we think—but sometimes we have to be brave enough to let ourselves be seen first. The next chapter is coming soon.
After hitting send, Win stared at his own words. Sometimes we have to be brave enough to let ourselves be seen. Easy advice to give a fictional character, harder to live in reality.
He closed the browser and opened a new document. The story was evolving beyond what he'd originally planned—no longer just the beginning of Alex and Kai's relationship, but something deeper about connection and loss and the terrifying vulnerability of reaching out to someone who might not reach back.
Win's fingers found the keyboard, and the words began to flow:
Summer's End - Chapter 2by InvisibleHeart
I changed my shirt three times before our first real date. Kai had texted that morning—casual, confident—asking if I wanted to get dinner somewhere quiet where we could actually hear each other talk. My hands had actually shaken as I typed back "yes."
Now I stood outside the restaurant, fifteen minutes early because I couldn't sit still in my apartment any longer, watching through the windows as couples shared intimate conversations over candlelit tables. What was I doing here? Kai was everything I wasn't—confident, magnetic, the kind of person who commanded attention just by walking into a room. And I was...
"Alex."
I turned to find Kai approaching, wearing a dark button-down that made his shoulders look impossibly broad. His smile was warm, genuine, and when he reached me, he placed a hand on the small of my back—possessive, certain.
"You look good," he said, voice low enough that I felt it as much as heard it.
"So do you," I managed, heat rising in my cheeks.
Dinner was a revelation. Kai listened when I talked, asked questions that showed he was actually paying attention, made me laugh until my sides hurt. But there was something else simmering beneath the surface—the way his eyes lingered on my mouth when I spoke, the deliberate brush of his fingers against mine when we both reached for the bread basket, the heat that built between us as the evening wore on.
"Want to get out of here?" he asked finally, and there was no mistaking what he meant.
I should have said no. Should have played it safe, taken things slow, protected myself from wanting something too much too fast. Instead, I heard myself whisper, "Yes."
Back at his apartment, Kai pressed me against the door the moment it closed, his mouth hot and demanding against mine. I gasped, overwhelmed by the sudden intensity, and he pulled back just enough to search my face.
"Tell me you want this too," he said, voice rough with want.
His eyes questioned me, but before I could respond his fingers started to trace the fullness of my lips, the touch feather soft. I closed my eyes and leaned into the gentle caress.
"I do," I breathed against his fingertips. "I want this. I want you."
He took my mouth in the most tender kiss I'd ever felt. I melted in his arms, and that gave him all the permission he needed. His hands were everywhere—tangling in my hair, sliding under my shirt, claiming me with a hunger that left me breathless. When he lifted me and carried me to his bedroom, my legs wrapping around his waist, his hands cupping my butt and giving it the slightest squeeze, I felt both completely vulnerable and utterly safe. As he set me down, he let my body slide against his, the movement slow and deliberate, and I felt myself come alive just from the contact.
He took his time undressing me, worshipping every inch of revealed skin with his mouth and hands until I was trembling beneath him, desperate for more. When he finally began to join our bodies together, I gasped at the unfamiliar sensation, my nails digging into his shoulders.
He stilled immediately, his eyes widening as realization dawned on his face. "Alex... is this your first time?"
I nodded, unable to speak, heat flooding my cheeks at being so exposed, so vulnerable.
Something shifted in his expression then—surprise melting into tenderness and awe. "Why didn't you tell me?" he whispered, his voice rough with emotion.
"I wanted it to be you," I managed, reaching up to touch his face. "Don't stop, please. I trust you."
His breath caught, and he lowered his head to kiss me again. But this kiss felt different—deeper, more reverent—as he began to move again, with infinite care and patience, his eyes finding mine as he guided me through each new sensation. His lips traced the tender spot of my neck and then suddenly he bit down, not rough or hard but not tender either. He was marking me, making me his in a way that was foreign to me but also beautiful. The discomfort gradually gave way to something profound and overwhelming, and I could understand now why people say a moment like this could change everything.
"Look at me," he whispered, and I obeyed, lost in the dark heat of his gaze as he moved with gentle purpose, showing me what it meant to be cherished. When pleasure finally crashed over me in waves, I cried out his name like a prayer, and he followed moments later, holding me like I was something precious he never wanted to let go.
Afterward, as we lay tangled together in the darkness, Kai traced patterns on my bare chest. What he didn't know was that this moment, this day, would last in my memory forever. There was a spot in my heart made that night for only him.
"I wasn't expecting this," he said softly.
"The sex?" I asked, still trying to catch my breath.
"This," he said, pressing a kiss to my temple. "You. How right this feels. This connection between us - it feels so right and I'm at a point that I don't want to let it go."
I closed my eyes, letting myself believe, just for tonight, that maybe someone like him could actually want someone like me for more than just one perfect evening.
Win's hands trembled slightly as he typed, each word pulling from the deep well of hurt he'd been carrying since Ratch had stopped responding to his calls. Writing Alex's hope felt like lancing a wound—necessary but agonizing.
When he finished, Win saved the chapter and uploaded it to the site. The publishing interface confirmed: Chapter 2 published successfully. Readers will be notified.
His phone lit up with a text from an unknown number almost immediately:
It must be lonely when everything you want feels out of reach.
Win stared at the message, unease prickling at the back of his neck. The timing felt deliberate, as if someone had been waiting for him to finish writing. Who would send something like that? And why now?
He typed back quickly: Who is this? Stop sending cryptic messages and just say what you want.
He waited, watching the screen, but no response came. The message just sat there, unsettling in its vagueness, like someone had been watching him work through his pain.
Win deleted the conversation and tried to push down his unease. He had enough real problems without adding paranoid fantasies about mysterious watchers to the mix.
Sleep came in fits and starts, interrupted by the ping of notifications from the fiction site. By morning, Chapter 2 had exploded across campus social media with even more intensity than the first. Win dragged himself through his morning routine on three hours of sleep, fueled by caffeine and the nervous energy that came from knowing his most vulnerable moments were being discussed by hundreds of strangers.
The campus was already busy when he arrived, orientation activities in full swing. Win made his way to the café, needing another coffee before facing whatever the day would bring.
"Excuse me, do you mind if I cut in front of you? I'm running a little late this morning and believe me, no freshman wants to meet me without my morning coffee," a warm voice said behind him.
Win turned to find a boy about his own age, maybe a year older, with an easy smile and kind eyes. He wore a volunteer badge that identified him as a peer mentor.
"Sure, go ahead," Win said, stepping aside.
"Thanks, you're a lifesaver," the boy said, moving ahead of him in line. "I'm Tawan, second year and peer mentor. I promise I'll make it quick."
"I'm Win," he replied, finding himself smiling—a real smile for the first time in days.
"First year?" Tawan asked as they moved forward together, and Win nodded. "How's it going so far? Overwhelming yet?"
"A little," Win admitted.
"That's totally normal. This place is chaos during orientation week, but in a few weeks you'll know exactly which line moves fastest and which barista makes the best coffee."
They reached the counter together, and Tawan quickly ordered his drink before stepping aside to wait. "Want to walk together? I'm heading to the orientation activities too."
"That would be great," Win said, ordering his own coffee.
As they left the café together, Tawan pointed out buildings and shortcuts with easy familiarity. "What's your major?"
"Law, with a business minor," Win replied, then added quietly, "Family expectations."
Tawan's expression shifted slightly, understanding flickering in his eyes. "Ah. The classic 'what you want vs. what you're supposed to want' dilemma."
There was no judgment in his voice, just recognition, and Win felt his shoulders relax slightly.
They talked easily as they walked—about classes, about campus life, about the overwhelming nature of new beginnings. Tawan had a gift for making conversation feel natural, for asking questions that made Win feel interesting rather than interrogated.
When they reached the orientation building, Tawan pulled out his phone. "Mind if we exchange numbers? Just in case you need help finding your way around this massive campus."
Win handed over his phone, watching as Tawan quickly entered his contact information. "I'd like that," Win said, meaning it.
As they parted ways, Win felt lighter than he had in weeks. Here was someone who saw him, who offered friendship without agenda or expectation.
Inside the building, Win found Pat waiting near the registration tables, practically vibrating with excitement.
"Win! There you are," Pat said, grabbing his arm. "You have to read this story. I'm serious, it's the most incredible thing I've ever read. Everyone on campus is talking about it."
Win's stomach dropped even as he tried to keep his expression neutral. "What story?"
"It's called 'Summer's End' by this author called InvisibleHeart. Win, I'm not kidding, this person writes like they've lived every emotion they're describing. The way they capture what it feels like to be invisible, to want someone to choose you—" Pat's voice caught with genuine emotion. "I've never read anything that felt so real."
Win's throat tightened. "It's... it's that good?"
"It's beautiful," Pat said earnestly. "The main character, Alex, he feels exactly like—well, like someone who understands what it's like to feel overlooked. And when Kai chooses him, when he treats him like he's precious—God, Win, it was so moving."
"Chapter two just went up last night and it's even more intense. The intimacy, the vulnerability—whoever InvisibleHeart is, they understand love and heartbreak on such a deep level. I keep wondering who it could be."
Win felt exposed, like Pat could see through him to the truth he was hiding. "Maybe it's just really good fiction writing."
"No way," Pat shook his head firmly. "This isn't fiction, Win. This is someone's heart bleeding onto the page. And the comments—there are hundreds of them. People sharing their own stories, talking about how seen they feel."
"You should read it," Pat said, pulling out his phone. "I think it would resonate with you. Here, I'll send you the link."
Win nodded, unable to trust his voice, as Pat sent him the link to his own story.
"I have to get to my next session," Pat said, checking his watch. "But we're definitely talking about this more later. Maybe we can figure out who InvisibleHeart is together."
As Pat hurried away, Win stood in the crowd of orientation activities, feeling more invisible than ever despite having just received genuine praise for his work. The weight of his secret pressed down on him, and he wondered how much longer he could carry it.
His phone buzzed with another message from the unknown number: Interesting conversation. Seems like your friend really understands you... or thinks he does.
Win's blood ran cold. Someone had been watching. Someone had heard his conversation with Pat. Someone knew more than they were letting on, and they were getting bolder.
He looked around the crowded space, searching for anyone who might be watching him, but saw only the usual chaos of orientation activities. Whoever was sending these messages was close enough to observe his private moments, and that realization sent a chill down his spine.
Win deleted the message and forced himself to move toward his next session, but the feeling of being watched followed him like a shadow. His carefully constructed walls were beginning to crack, and he couldn't shake the growing certainty that someone was deliberately trying to push him toward a breaking point.