Chapter 8: The fight He didn’t want

Chapter 8: The Fight He Didn’t Want

Jake didn’t wait long.

The voicemail wasn’t just a scare tactic it was a warning. A signal.

That he was coming back into Ryan’s world. Not because he missed him. Not because he wanted to fix anything. But because Jake couldn’t stand losing control.

And now, for the first time, he had.

It started with a meeting request.

Ryan got the email two days later. A cold, formal message from the Office of Student Conduct:

“You have been named in a disciplinary matter and are requested to appear for a preliminary interview. You may bring an advocate or witness.”

No details. No sender name.

Just a time.

A room number.

And a stomach-drop kind of silence.

“Jake filed something,” Ryan said, sitting on the edge of Daniel’s desk that night, his fingers curled tightly around the letter.

Daniel looked up from his laptop, reading his face instantly. “He’s flipping it.”

Ryan nodded. “Classic Jake. Hurt me, then accuse me.”

Daniel’s jaw clenched. “We’re not letting this happen.”

The hearing wasn’t a full trial. Not yet.

Just a “statement meeting,” where each party gave their version of events. Jake would be in a separate room  thank God and neither would speak directly to each other.

Daniel came with Ryan. Sat beside him in the waiting area. Didn’t say much.

But the way his hand hovered just close enough to touch the quiet reminder that he was there  made all the difference.

When the staff member finally called him in, Ryan’s pulse was a war drum in his chest. But he stood.

Walked.

Spoke.

He told the truth.

About the relationship. The control. The way Jake isolated him. The photos. The stalking. The threat messages. The voicemail.

They asked questions. Took notes. Listened.

No one said “liar.”

No one rolled their eyes.

For the first time, Ryan was believed without having to prove every inch of his pain.

Afterward, Daniel didn’t ask how he felt.

He just unlocked the passenger side door of his car and said, “Drive.”

Ryan blinked. “What?”

“You need to scream or breathe or fall apart. You choose which one. But I’m not letting you do it under campus lights.”

So Ryan drove.

Fast.

Silent.

Until the trees blurred and the buildings faded.

Until they hit a lookout point somewhere outside the city. And Ryan stepped out of the car into the dark.

He stared at the city lights below.

And finally, finally let himself say it.

“He’s still in my head.”

Daniel leaned on the hood next to him. “That’s not your fault.”

“I hate that he’s not even here, and I still flinch.”

“Do you flinch when I raise my voice?”

“No.”

“Do you feel small when I touch you?”

Ryan looked over slowly. “No.”

Daniel nodded. “Then you’re healing. Even if it doesn’t feel like it yet.”

Ryan looked at him in the shadows.

“Why do you care this much?”

Daniel paused. Then answered.

“Because someone once told me I wasn’t worth saving. And I believed them… until someone proved me wrong.”

Ryan’s voice caught. “Who?”

Daniel looked at him. “My mother. She left. My brother used that hole for years. But one teacher just one stood between him and me long enough for me to grow teeth.”

“Is that what you think you’re doing?”

Daniel turned toward him. “No. I think I’m just standing here long enough for you to see yourself clearly.”

They drove back in silence. But not the painful kind. The kind that felt full.

The kind that wasn’t hiding anymore.

Back in Daniel’s apartment, Ryan stood by the couch, hands in his hoodie pocket, eyes still shadowed from what he’d relived.

Daniel moved past him toward the kitchen, but Ryan’s voice stopped him.

“Will you stay?”

Daniel turned. “Here?”

“In the room.”

Daniel watched him carefully. “Ryan…”

“I don’t want anything from you except to not feel alone.”

Daniel nodded once. “Okay.”

They lay in bed  far enough not to touch, close enough to hear the other breathe. And at some point, Ryan whispered,

“Thank you for not treating me like I’m broken.”

Daniel whispered back, “You’re not. You’re just still building.”

Ryan closed his eyes.

And this time, when sleep came, it didn’t carry fear with it.