WebNovels

Chapter 8 - Chapter 7: Lines Drawn

Win's phone had been buzzing nonstop since Ratch's message that morning. Each notification made his heart race, wondering if it was another anonymous photo or another pointed message from someone watching his every move. He'd turned it to silent during the morning orientation activities, mentally checking things off his list - course registration, done; student ID, done; now uniform fitting - but he could still feel the weight of it in his pocket like a bomb waiting to explode.

By lunch, he couldn't ignore it anymore. Pat was still getting his uniform fitted after discovering the first shirt was too small, and Win found himself walking alone across the quad, finally pulling out his phone to check the damage.

Seven messages from Ratch. Seven.

I know it's you, Win. InvisibleHeart. Alex and Kai - that's us, isn't it?

You wrote about me claiming you in the shower. About how I made you say you were mine.

"Yours," you whispered, the word torn from my throat as he marked my neck with his teeth. Sound familiar?

You can hide from me in person, but you can't hide your heart on the page.

We need to talk. Today.

Don't make me come find you.

Room 247, library, 3rd floor. One hour. Don't keep me waiting.

Library location: https://maps.uni.th/library

Win's hands shook as he read the messages, each one more pointed than the last. Ratch knew. Ratch had read his most vulnerable thoughts, his desperate longing poured out through Alex's voice, and now he was using it as ammunition. The very thing that had been Win's safe space, his anonymous outlet for feelings too raw to voice, had been turned into a weapon against him.

He looked at the time. 12:47 PM. Ratch expected him in thirteen minutes, and Win still needed to find the library.

Win's first instinct was to run. To ignore the message, skip his afternoon orientation sessions, go home and hide in his room until Ratch gave up and moved on. But even as the thought crossed his mind, he knew it was futile. Ratch wasn't the type to give up, and now he had proof that Win's feelings were real, written in Win's own desperate words for the entire campus to read.

The library's third floor was nearly empty, just a few scattered students here and there. Win climbed the stairs on unsteady legs, his heart hammering against his ribs with each step. Room 247 was a small group study room tucked into a corner, glass walls that provided privacy while still being visible to anyone passing by.

Ratch was already there, sitting at the small table with his laptop open, but Win could see his own story displayed on the screen - "Summer's End" Chapter 3, the intimate morning scene Win had posted just the night before. The sight made Win's stomach drop, knowing that Ratch had been reading his words, analyzing every detail, recognizing their shared memories disguised as fiction.

Win hesitated at the door, hand frozen on the handle. He could still walk away. He could pretend he'd never gotten the messages, never seen this room, never written those desperate confessions disguised as love stories.

But Ratch looked up at that moment, their eyes meeting through the glass, and Win felt the familiar pull that had always existed between them. Ratch's gaze was intense, knowing, and Win realized with a sinking heart that running was no longer an option.

He opened the door and stepped inside, closing it behind him with a soft click that sounded like a trap being set.

"You came," Ratch said, his voice low and satisfied. "I wasn't sure you would."

"You didn't exactly give me a choice," Win replied, staying near the door, ready to flee if necessary.

Ratch gestured to the chair across from him, but Win remained standing. "Sit, Win."

"I'm fine here."

"Sit." There was steel in Ratch's voice now, the same commanding tone he'd used in their most intimate moments, and Win's body responded before his mind could catch up. He found himself moving to the chair, settling into it with careful precision while trying to maintain some semblance of control.

Ratch turned the laptop screen toward Win, displaying the story in all its raw, emotional glory. "InvisibleHeart," he said, the username sounding almost mocking in his voice. "Clever. Though not clever enough, apparently."

Win forced his expression to remain neutral even as his heart raced. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't." Ratch's voice cut through Win's attempted denial like a blade. "Don't lie to me. Not when your truth is right here in black and white." He scrolled through the story, pointing to specific lines. "Listen to this: 'I'd never spent the night with anyone before, and I was amazed by how right it felt—how safe and wanted I felt in his embrace.' Sound familiar?"

Win's breath caught, but he remained silent.

Ratch continued, his voice gaining intensity. "Or this one: 'Mine,' he growled against my lips, his grip tightening just enough to make my pulse race. 'Say it.' 'Yours,' I whispered, the word torn from my throat as he marked my neck with his teeth.'" Ratch's eyes locked onto Win's, dark and knowing. "That's our first morning together, Win. Word for word, exactly how it happened. Exactly how you begged for me to claim you."

"It's fiction," Win said weakly, but the words sounded hollow even to his own ears.

"Fiction?" Ratch leaned forward, his presence overwhelming even across the small table. "You wrote about the way I grabbed your hair, pressed you against the tile wall, made you admit you were mine. You wrote about how your body arched into my dominance like you were made for it. Those aren't fiction, Win. Those are memories. Our memories."

Win felt heat flood his cheeks, his carefully constructed walls beginning to crumble under the weight of his own words being read back to him. "You don't understand—"

"I understand perfectly," Ratch interrupted, his voice dropping to that dangerous low tone that had always made Win's knees weak. "You can write about us with so much passion and fire, pour your heart onto the page for thousands of strangers to read, but you can't admit to my face that you still want me. That you're still mine."

"I'm not—"

"You are." Ratch's voice was absolute, certain. "Your writing proves it. Every chapter, every intimate scene, every desperate moment of longing - that's you, Win. That's your heart bleeding onto the page because you can't stop yourself from remembering what we had."

Win felt trapped, cornered by his own vulnerability made public. "Those stories... they're not about us."

"Aren't they?" Ratch pulled up another passage, reading aloud with deliberate intensity. "'As I sat there in his kitchen, wearing his shirt and watching him smile at me like I was something precious, my body aching in the best of ways, if I only knew at that moment, at the peak of my happiness, that I should have been locking those times in my memories as the best part of my summer.'" Ratch's eyes never left Win's face. "The best part of your summer, Win. That's what you wrote. That's what I was to you."

Win couldn't answer, couldn't even look at Ratch anymore. His vision blurred as tears threatened to fall, his own desperate longing reflected back at him with devastating accuracy.

"I thought so," Ratch said softly, and there was something almost gentle in his voice now. "You miss it, don't you? You miss being mine. You miss the way I could make you fall apart with just a touch, the way you could be completely yourself in my arms without fear or shame."

"It doesn't matter," Win whispered, finally finding his voice. "You showed me the real you. All that talking about me running, but I poured my heart and soul out in those voicemails and you ignored every single one. So what is it that you want from me, Ratch? Because it sure as hell wasn't you wanting me or loving me. Where was the pain you were feeling? Because I felt so much pain, so much heartache to the point I almost became a shell of the person I used to be. And the one thing I did to help me let go of those memories, you're reading them aloud for what? Huh?"

Ratch felt the words hit him like physical blows, each one landing exactly where he was most vulnerable. His face went pale, the confident mask slipping as Win's pain-filled accusation settled between them. He opened his mouth to respond, then closed it, for the first time since entering this room looking truly shaken.

Ratch ran his hands through his hair, his composure completely shattered. "You want to know where my pain was? When you told me about Cambridge, it felt like you'd ripped my heart out. Like everything we had, everything I thought we meant to each other, was just a lie. You'd been planning to leave the entire time, and I felt like such a fool for believing you loved me the way I loved you. So I shut down. I told you to leave because I thought if you were going to abandon me anyway, at least I could pretend it was my choice." His voice broke. "And when you started calling, leaving those voicemails... I wanted to answer so badly, Win. But I was terrified you were just calling out of guilt, or because you felt sorry for me. I thought if I answered, I'd beg you to stay, and you'd realize how pathetic I was. How much I needed you when you clearly didn't need me the same way. So I ignored every call, every message, telling myself I was protecting what little pride I had left. But really? I was just a coward who was too afraid to believe that what we had was real. I love you, Win. I still do."

"Do you?" Win's eyes blazed with hurt and anger. "Because ignoring someone for weeks after they choose you over everything they've ever planned doesn't exactly scream 'loving' to me."

"Right now I don't know if you really chose me or if you're here out of guilt, but what I do know is the fact I don't care why you're here or why you stayed. All I care about is getting back what we had."

Win felt his composure finally crack, a sob catching in his throat. "You can't do this, you can't be saying things like that to me."

"Why not?" Ratch's voice was soft but implacable. "Because I meant every word. I don't care about pride anymore, I don't care about who was right or wrong. I just want you back, Win. I want us back. And the truth is that you love me. That you've never stopped loving me."

"That's not—" Win started, but Ratch cut him off.

"Say it," Ratch commanded, his voice dropping to that dominant tone that had always made Win's will crumble. "Say you don't love me. Look me in the eye and tell me that you feel nothing when you see me, that your heart doesn't race when I kiss you."

Win opened his mouth to deny it, to lie convincingly enough that Ratch would finally leave him alone. But the words wouldn't come. Under Ratch's intense stare, Win found himself completely unable to voice the lie that might set him free.

"I can't," he whispered, the admission torn from his throat like blood.

"Because it's not true," Ratch said, reaching across the table to gently touch Win's hand. "Because you do love me. Because you're still mine, whether you want to admit it or not."

Win felt the last of his defenses crumble, tears finally spilling over as weeks of suppressed emotion overwhelmed him. "It doesn't change anything. We can't just go back to the way things were."

"Who says we have to go back?" Ratch's thumb stroked across Win's knuckles, the touch gentle but possessive. "We can build something new. Something better. But first, you have to stop running. You have to admit what we both know is true."

"I can't," Win repeated, but his voice was weaker now, less certain.

"You can." Ratch's voice was soft, encouraging. "Just say it, Win. Say you love me too. That's all I need to hear."

Win stared down at their joined hands, feeling the familiar warmth and rightness of Ratch's touch despite everything that had happened between them. His heart was pounding so hard he was sure Ratch could hear it.

"This is insane," he whispered.

"Maybe," Ratch agreed. "But it's our kind of insane. And I'd rather have insane with you than sane with anyone else."

Win looked up at that, really studying Ratch's face. What he saw there wasn't just desire or possessiveness, but something deeper. Something that looked dangerously like hope.

"I have to go," Win said suddenly, pulling his hand free and standing so quickly the chair scraped against the floor. "I can't do this right now."

"Win—"

"No." Win was already moving toward the door, desperate to escape before he said something he couldn't take back. "I need time to think."

"You've had weeks to think," Ratch called after him. "How much more time do you need?"

Win paused at the door, his hand on the handle. "I don't know," he said honestly. "But I can't make this decision with you staring at me like that. It's not fair."

"Love isn't fair," Ratch said softly. "But it's real. And it's ours. Don't throw it away because you're scared."

Win closed his eyes, Ratch's words hitting him like physical blows. "Right now I don't know if I want to kiss you or punch you."

"Think fast," Ratch said, and there was steel in his voice again. "Because I'm not going anywhere, Win. I'm going to keep pushing, keep fighting for us, until you stop running and admit what your heart already knows."

Win fled then, pulling open the door and practically running down the library corridor, Ratch's words echoing in his head. As he reached the stairwell, his heart was still pounding, his mind reeling from everything that had just happened. He needed space, needed air, needed someone to talk to who wouldn't look at him like they could see straight through to his soul.

His phone buzzed with a new message from Tawan: Hey! Want to grab coffee later? I found this great study spot you might like.

Win stared at the message, so normal and uncomplicated compared to the emotional warfare he'd just escaped. Tawan represented safety, simplicity, the chance to build something without the devastating history that made every interaction with Ratch feel like walking through a minefield.

Win: Yes. I'd like that.

But even as he sent the reply, even as he tried to focus on the promise of uncomplicated friendship, Win couldn't stop hearing Ratch's voice in his head: "You're still mine, whether you want to admit it or not."

And the terrifying thing was, Win was beginning to think Ratch might be right.

More Chapters