Chapter 5: The line between

Ryan didn’t go back to his dorm after the photo.

Daniel wouldn’t let him.

Not that he dragged him anywhere he didn’t have to. He just looked at Ryan with that quiet certainty again and said, “Stay at my place tonight. Just in case.”

And Ryan, who didn’t trust anyone easily, found himself saying okay like it was the most natural word in the world.

Daniel’s apartment was off-campus.

It was cleaner than Ryan expected. Minimalist. A little cold, but in a controlled way  like Daniel kept even his furniture emotionally distant.

The walls were mostly bare, except for a single framed photo of a younger Daniel with a woman who must’ve been his mother. Same eyes. Same impossible-to-read stare.

Daniel handed Ryan a hoodie and sweatpants.

“You can crash in my room. I’ll take the couch.”

Ryan blinked. “You’re giving me your bed?”

“You’ve had the worse week.”

Ryan hesitated. “You don’t have to be… this kind.”

Daniel met his eyes. “You don’t have to keep expecting me to change.”

Ryan swallowed that.

Because the truth was, part of him was waiting  waiting for the mask to fall, for the charm to fade, for the control to crack open into something ugly. But it hadn’t. Not yet. And that scared him almost more than if it had.

Because what if Daniel was real?

What if someone actually could care and not break you for it?

That night, Ryan lay in Daniel’s bed, staring at the ceiling, wrapped in a hoodie that smelled faintly like citrus and whatever cologne Daniel wore.

He couldn’t sleep.

Not because of fear.

Because of closeness.

Daniel’s couch was only one room away, and somehow that distance felt too thin. Every creak of the floorboards. Every rustle of sheets. The knowledge that someone  someone safe was nearby.

It wasn’t something he was used to.

But he wanted to be.

Around 2 a.m., Ryan padded into the living room. Daniel was awake, of course sitting on the couch with a book open but unread in his lap.

“You okay?” he asked immediately.

“I couldn’t sleep.”

Daniel nodded. “You want to talk?”

Ryan hesitated. Then sat down beside him.

Not across. Not nearby.

Beside. Close enough for his knee to brush Daniel’s.

Daniel didn’t flinch.

Neither did Ryan.

“I hate that he still gets in my head,” Ryan said, voice low.

“That’s how they work,” Daniel replied. “They don’t need to be near you to control you. They just plant the right words in the right wounds.”

Ryan looked at him. “You speak like you know.”

Daniel was silent for a beat. “I’ve seen it before.”

Ryan studied him. “Family?”

Daniel nodded once. “My older brother. Different kind of monster, but same sickness. Power as ownership.”

“And what did you do?”

Daniel’s eyes didn’t move. “I stopped letting it define me.”

Ryan turned away, staring at the bookshelf like it held answers he didn’t understand.

“I want to be stronger,” he whispered.

“You are.”

“I don’t feel like it.”

Daniel’s voice dropped, softer now. “You don’t have to feel strong to be strong.”

Ryan didn’t respond.

Not with words.

He shifted just slightly  turning to face Daniel more directly. His hand moved to the space between them on the couch. Not touching. Just near.

Daniel noticed.

Neither of them moved for a moment.

Then Daniel said, low and deliberate, “Ryan…”

Ryan looked at him. “I know. It’s too soon.”

“It’s not that,” Daniel said. “It’s just… you deserve to choose it. Not fall into it because it feels safer than being alone.”

Ryan swallowed hard. “And what if I am choosing it?”

Daniel’s expression cracked  just a little. Something flickered across his face: surprise, want, restraint.

“You’re not ready,” he said. “But I’ll be here when you are.”

Ryan didn’t lean in. But he didn’t back away either.

He just nodded.

And for once, that was enough.

The next morning, Ryan woke up to the smell of coffee and Daniel on the phone in the kitchen.

“No, he hasn’t filed anything yet,” Daniel was saying. “But I’m working on it.”

A pause.

“Yes. He’s safe.”

Another pause.

“No. I don’t want him labeled a problem student. I want him protected.”

Ryan stepped out quietly.

Daniel turned, mid-conversation, and when he saw him, his voice shifted.

“Yeah, I’ll call you back.”

He hung up and set the phone down. “Sorry. Campus security.”

Ryan blinked. “You called them?”

“I needed to make sure the photo was documented. If Jake tries something else, there’ll be a record.”

“You didn’t ask me.”

Daniel raised a brow. “Do you want me to stop caring?”

Ryan looked at him for a long moment.

“No.”

Daniel nodded. “Then stop acting like you’re a burden.”

“I’m not used to this.”

“I know.”

Ryan moved closer.

“I think I want to be,” he said.

And Daniel, for the first time, didn’t say anything.

He just reached out  slow, careful and placed a hand lightly on Ryan’s shoulder.

A quiet promise.

No rush.

But no hesitation, either.