Jay-Jay's POV
Not long after, Keifer finally woke up.
I was sitting beside the clinic bed, arms folded so tight my shoulders hurt, staring at the wall like it had personally offended me. The nurse noticed he was awake before I did.
"Can you hear me?" she asked.
Keifer blinked slowly, like his body was still deciding whether it wanted to be here or not. Then his eyes landed on me.
"Why do you look like you're about to scold me?" he muttered.
I exhaled sharply. Good. He's talking. Annoying, but talking.
The nurse asked what he had eaten since morning. Keifer frowned, thinking hard.
"Nothing much," he said. "Just something at… Sienna's place. We were there early."
My head snapped toward him.
Of course. Of course it had to be food. Why is food always the villain?
The nurse nodded thoughtfully and checked his chart. She explained that it looked like a mild allergic reaction—nothing severe, but enough to make his body shut down for a moment.
"He'll be fine," she said calmly. "But he needs rest. At least an hour or two. No stress."
I looked straight at Keifer.
"Did you hear that?" I said. "Rest. As in you don't argue."
He gave a weak smile. "Yes, boss."
The nurse said he was cleared to leave, as long as someone escorted him home. That word—home—made my chest loosen a little.
Section E didn't even argue. They were already standing up.
Outside the clinic, the hallway felt strangely quiet. No jokes. No noise. Just footsteps.
As we reached the parking area, someone called his name.
"Keifer."
We turned.
It was Sienna.
She looked genuinely worried, not dramatic, not loud—just… concerned.
"I heard you fainted," she said softly. "I came to check if you were okay."
For a second, I watched Keifer closely.
And to my surprise—he was nice.
"Yeah," he said. "I'm okay now. Thanks for checking."
No tension. No sharp words. Just calm.
Huh. That's new.
Sienna smiled briefly, nodded, and stepped back.
"Get some rest."
Then she left.
I don't know why, but that moment confused me more than the fainting itself.
We got into the car. Keifer moved slowly, like his body still hadn't forgiven him. I watched every step, every breath.
"Do I sit in the front or—" he started.
"Sit," I cut in. "And don't test me."
He obeyed.
I drove him home myself. The ride was quiet, the kind of quiet that hums instead of rests. When we arrived, I made sure he actually entered the house—door closed, lights on.
Only then did I turn the car around and head back to the dorm.
As I drove, my hands tightened on the wheel.
You don't just faint for no reason, I thought.
But today… today, I'll accept the explanation.
Still—
Something didn't feel right.
And I hated that I couldn't explain why.