Chapter 3: The wrong kind of Attention

Chapter 3: The Wrong Kind of Attention

Ryan kept the letter from Jake, even after swearing he wouldn’t.

It sat in his bottom drawer under an old hoodie he didn’t wear anymore  like a loaded gun without the trigger. He told himself it was just in case. In case of what, he didn’t know. Maybe proof. Maybe weakness.

He hated that it still held power.

He hated that Jake still held power.

Daniel didn’t ask about it.

In fact, for two days after their conversation behind the music building, he didn’t text at all. No check-ins. No reminders. No casually controlling remarks disguised as leadership.

And that was worse.

Because now, Ryan couldn’t stop thinking about him.

About how he’d just been there, when no one else had even noticed he was missing. About how he’d said he’d hold him together, and the part of Ryan that didn’t believe anyone ever meant those kinds of words was… quiet.

Not gone. But quiet.

“Do you have a thing for him?” Chris asked bluntly on Sunday night, from the top bunk.

Ryan looked up from his laptop. “What?”

“Brooks. Daniel. You’ve been grumpy since Thursday, and you only get like this when someone’s in your head.”

Ryan rolled his eyes. “I’m not grumpy.”

Chris snorted. “You’re in a Daniel spiral, aren’t you?”

“There is no spiral.”

Chris leaned over the top bunk like a smug older brother. “You’re overthinking every moment. Analyzing his silence. Debating whether texting him first will make you look desperate.”

Ryan threw a sock at him. “Shut up.”

Chris laughed, dodged the sock, and said, “You could just admit you like him. It won’t kill you.”

Ryan didn’t respond. Because the truth sat heavy in his chest, right between denial and something that felt like fear.

It wasn’t that he liked Daniel.

It was that he wanted to trust him.

And Ryan had learned a long time ago that trust was like glass  sharp, fragile, and almost always used to cut you open.

Monday morning came with drizzle and gray skies.

Ryan shoved his hood up and power-walked across campus to his 9 a.m. class  only to find a piece of paper taped to the door.

CLASS CANCELED. DR. HILL OUT SICK.

He stared at it for a moment, then sighed. His mood matched the weather. He turned to leave… and nearly collided with someone behind him.

“You’re getting bad at noticing me,” came a too-familiar voice.

Jake.

Ryan stepped back so fast he nearly tripped. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Same as you. Canceled class.”

“Bullshit.”

Jake smiled. “Okay. I was waiting. But can you blame me? You’ve been ignoring me for days.”

“Take the hint.”

“You used to love when I showed up like this. Said it made you feel seen.”

“I said that before I realized you were trying to own me.”

Jake’s face shifted. Just slightly. Like he wasn’t used to being told he wasn’t wanted.

“You always said I made you feel safe,” Jake said. “And now you’re running to him?”

Ryan’s chest tightened. “Don’t bring him into this.”

“I saw you,” Jake said, eyes narrowing. “At the mixer. The way he looked at you. You think he’s better than me?”

Ryan shook his head. “No. I think he’s not you. And that’s enough.”

Jake’s jaw clenched.

Ryan turned to walk away.

Jake grabbed his wrist.

It was subtle  not hard enough to bruise, but enough to freeze Ryan mid-step.

“Let go.”

“I just want to talk.”

“I said let go.”

Jake didn’t.

But someone else made him.

Daniel appeared from the hallway with the kind of quiet fury that needed no announcement. His hand was on Jake’s shoulder before either of them could react.

“She said let go,” Daniel said, voice calm. Too calm.

Jake dropped Ryan’s wrist.

Daniel didn’t move. “You want to try that again, Miller?”

Jake smirked. “You playing bodyguard now?”

“No. I’m just someone who hates bullies.”

Jake rolled his eyes. “You don’t know anything about us.”

“I know enough,” Daniel said. “And I know you’re not welcome here.”

Jake laughed once. “You think you can scare me off?”

“No,” Daniel replied. “But campus security can.”

That landed.

Jake’s face shifted again  not anger this time, but calculation. The kind of look Ryan had seen before, just before Jake twisted the truth into something dangerous.

Jake raised his hands mockingly. “Relax. I was just saying hi.”

He walked away with a shrug, leaving behind tension thick enough to choke on.

When it was just the two of them, Ryan didn’t speak at first.

Daniel looked at him, but didn’t push. Just waited. Like always.

Finally, Ryan said, “He’s not going to stop.”

Daniel nodded slowly. “Then we don’t stop either.”

“We?”

“You’re not alone in this.”

Ryan looked at him for a long time.

Daniel’s expression didn’t waver. No pity. No performative protectiveness. Just a quiet promise.

Ryan swallowed the knot in his throat. “Thank you.”

Daniel’s eyes softened, just for a second. “You don’t have to thank me for giving a damn.”

That night, Ryan texted him.

Just two words.

Thank you.

Daniel replied in less than a minute.

You don’t have to thank me. But you do owe me coffee now.

Ryan stared at the screen for a moment, then