Jay Jay's POV
People always said Keifer was calm.
Cold.
Unbothered.
Impossible to read.
I used to believe that too.
Until he started looking at me like that.
I first noticed it during lunch break. The cafeteria was loud, crowded, chaotic—but Keifer's attention never wavered. While everyone else laughed and talked, his gaze stayed fixed on me, like the noise around us didn't exist.
It wasn't creepy.
It was… intense.
"Why is Keifer staring again?" my friend whispered, nudging me.
"I don't know," I muttered, pretending not to notice—except I noticed everything.
When I stood up, he stood up.
When I left, he followed—always a few steps behind, never too close.
Not chasing.
Waiting.
"Jay Jay."
His voice stopped me in the hallway. I turned around, my heart already doing something stupid.
"Yes?"
He hesitated. Keifer never hesitated.
"I heard someone was bothering you," he said quietly.
"I'm fine.
"I know." His jaw tightened. "But if they do it again, tell me."
That was it.
No threats.
No dramatic promises.
Just certainty.
From that day on, it became obvious.
Keifer remembered everything—how I liked my coffee, the days I went quiet, the way my smile faded when I was tired. He showed up without asking, helped without demanding, stayed without expecting anything in return.
And the scariest part?
He never once asked me to be his.
It felt like he was proving something instead.
That loving him wouldn't cost me my freedom.
That choosing him would be safe.
Sometimes, when he thought I wasn't looking, his eyes softened—like I was the one thing in the world that could break him.
That's when I realized it.
Keifer wasn't calm.
He was just holding himself together.
For me.