~15.

[NOAH]

Noah noticed it ten minutes into the lecture.

Rabbit Ashby was falling asleep. Well trying not to.

He looked between exhaustion and death.

Not the casual kind of exhaustion most students dragged into a Tuesday afternoon lectures either. This was worse. Subtle enough that others likely wouldn’t catch it, but obvious to Noah the moment he glanced toward the middle row. He did see it this morning but it didn’t look this bad.

Rabbit’s posture kept shifting.

Straightening.

Slumping.

Straightening again.

Then slumping again.

His pen hovered over his notebook without moving while his eyelids fought to stay open behind those thick lenses. Every few seconds, his head dipped forward before jerking back up again.

Trying.

The boy was trying very hard not to fall asleep.

And failing miserably with each try.

Noah paused mid-sentence, gaze lingering briefly over the lecture hall.

Most students remained focused.

Some typed.

Others scribbled notes.

While some bold ones were actually sleeping.

Rabbit, however, looked one blink away from collapsing face-first onto his desk.

Noah’s eyes narrowed slightly.

“…and Wilde uses aestheticism not merely as philosophy,” he continued evenly, voice smooth as he resumed pacing slowly across the front of the room, “but as a shield. Dorian’s obsession with beauty becomes an excuse to separate himself from consequence.”

Rabbit’s head dipped again.

This time lower.

A strand of white hair slipped across his face as he blinked heavily. His pink eyes were surrounded by a sea of pale red.

Noah tried to continue lecturing.

Tried.

But his attention kept pulling back toward the same student over and over again.

The bruise peeked faintly above Rabbit’s collar today.

Purple against pale skin.

Anger stirred unexpectedly beneath Noah’s ribs again.

Not rational anger.

Was it anger fueled by pity?

He disliked it immediately.

The bruise itself bothered him less than the way Rabbit kept hiding it.

Fingers curled tightly into the fabric of his shirt near his throat, subtly pulling the collar higher whenever someone looked too long in his direction. Not to mention he was still holding onto that collar even as he struggled to stay awake.

Protective behavior.

Defensive.

Like he expected judgment.

Or worse, questions.

Noah stopped beside the board, setting down his marker slowly.

“Mr. Wilson,” he said calmly, “what literary purpose does Basil serve within the narrative?”

The student startled before awkwardly answering.

Noah listened.

Corrected.

Continued.

But the entire time, he remained aware of Rabbit.

Too aware.

The boy blinked hard again, trying to focus on his notes. His lips parted slightly as he struggled to stifle a yawn.

His handwriting had deteriorated halfway down the page into uneven lines.

Noah’s jaw tightened faintly.

When was the last time the boy actually slept?

Or ate properly?

The lunch yesterday resurfaced unpleasantly in his mind.

Rabbit staring at the menu like the prices physically hurt him.

The way he hesitated before every choice.

The way he practically inhaled the food once it arrived despite trying to appear composed.

Not the lunch actually, it was what he, Noah, did after.

And that exhaustion.

God.

Looking at him now, Noah wasn’t entirely convinced Rabbit had gone home after they parted ways yesterday.

The thought unsettled him more than it should have.

Noah turned another page of notes.

“Dual identity,” he said aloud, voice cutting cleanly through the room once more. “One of Gothic literature’s most recurring themes. The idea that a person may exist as two entirely separate selves.”

Rabbit was visibly startled by his booming voice.

Noah’s gaze settled on him deliberately now.

“A self presented to society,” he continued slowly, “and another concealed beneath performance.”

Rabbit’s fingers tightened around his pen.

His eyes remained lowered.

But Noah noticed the reaction immediately.

Like he’d struck something sensitive.

Or maybe he was overthinking it?

The professor in him recognized intellectual engagement.

The man watching Rabbit recognized discomfort.

“…the psychological tension created by maintaining those identities often becomes unsustainable,” Noah finished calmly.

A girl near the front raised her hand. “Like repression?”

“Precisely.”

Noah answered automatically, though his attention remained elsewhere.

Rabbit’s breathing looked uneven now. He was holding back another yawn.

Subtle.

Barely noticeable.

But noticeable. To Noah.

Noah found himself wondering what kind of life produced this level of exhaustion in someone so young.

Work, apparently.

Was be juggling several part-time jobs?

A diner job.

Scholarship student.

No family mentioned.

Worn-down clothes carefully maintained to look newer than they were.

And now bruises.

Something cold settled unpleasantly in Noah’s chest.

The lecture continued another twenty minutes before it finally happened.

Rabbit lost the fight completely.

His head tipped forward abruptly slamming into the open books before him.

The pen slipped from his hand and rolled loudly off the desk.

Several students glanced back immediately.

Rabbit jerked awake so fast he looked genuinely panicked.

“I’m sorry!”

The apology left him instantly, breathless and embarrassed as he scrambled for the fallen pen.

A few students snickered quietly.

Noah’s expression hardened.

“Is something amusing?” he asked coldly.

Silence.

Immediate silence.

The room straightened collectively beneath his tone.

Rabbit froze halfway bent over his desk.

Noah looked directly at him.

“Mr. Ashby.”

Rabbit swallowed hard. “Yes, Professor?”

“Stay awake.”

Heat flooded the boy’s face instantly.

“Yes, Professor.”

Noah resumed lecturing.

But irritation lingered beneath his skin now.

Towards Rabbit.

Towards the room.

Towards the fact that the boy looked physically exhausted enough to fall asleep sitting upright and still came to class anyway.

Most students would’ve skipped.

Rabbit showed up regardless.

Why?

Because he cared about grades?

Because he couldn’t afford not to?

Something about that realization pressed strangely against Noah’s chest.

By the end of class, Rabbit looked worse.

Students began packing up quickly around him while he moved slower than everyone else, clearly still fighting fatigue.

Noah organized his papers at the front silently while watching him over the edge of the stack.

Rabbit nearly walked into a desk on his way out.

“Mr. Ashby.”

Rabbit stopped immediately.

His shoulders tensed.

Noah ignored the flicker of guilt that followed.

The poor boy looked one inconvenience away from collapsing.

“I’m sorry for dozing off in class, Professor”

“Come here.”

Several students glanced between them curiously before filtering from the room.

Rabbit approached slowly once they were alone, clutching his books tightly against his chest.

Always defensive.

Always holding something between himself and others.

Noah leaned lightly against the desk.

“You’re exhausted.”

Rabbit attempted a weak smile. “So it seems.”

The sarcasm surprised him again.

Quietly funny.

Dry.

Nothing like the shy persona Rabbit usually projected.

Noah found himself liking it far too much.

“You fell asleep in class.”

“I noticed.”

“You need rest.”

“I need money,” Rabbit replied before stopping abruptly.

Silence followed.

Rabbit looked horrified with himself immediately afterward.

Noah’s eyes sharpened.

A smile tugged at his lips. This is interesting.

Rabbit quickly looked away. “I mean—I just meant work has been a lot lately.Y’know customers…here and there…”

Noah studied him quietly.

The bruise peeked above his collar again when he lowered his head.

Anger flickered beneath Noah’s skin immediately.

Who touched you?

The thought arrived so naturally it irritated him.

Not your business.

And yet—

“Does your work often leave marks on your neck?”

Rabbit froze.

The air shifted instantly.

Noah watched panic flicker briefly across the boy’s expression before it vanished beneath forced composure.

“It’s nothing.”

“That was not my question.”

Rabbit’s fingers tightened harder around his books. His other hand reached for his collar.

Noah immediately noticed how he subtly stepped backward too.

Retreating.

He liked doing that a lot.

Noah softened his tone slightly without meaning to. “Who did it?”

Rabbit laughed nervously.

Too quickly.

“No one did anything, Professor.”

The lie sat poorly between them.

Noah stared at him for a long moment.

Rabbit looked away first.

“Rabbit.”

The use of his first name slipped out before Noah could reconsider it.

The reaction was immediate.

Rabbit blinked up at him in surprise.

Wide-eyed.

Caught off guard enough that his guard lowered briefly.

Noah saw it then.

Fear and something else, not terror. But wariness.

Like he expected anger the second he answered incorrectly.

Something ugly twisted beneath Noah’s ribs at the sight.

He straightened slightly. “If someone is hurting you—”

“They’re not.”

Rabbit blurted out quickly.

He adjusted his glasses shakily. “Really. I’m okay.”

Noah did not believe him for a second.

But pushing harder now would only make him retreat further.

He could already see the walls rising again.

So instead, Noah changed tactics.

“When was the last time you slept properly?”

Rabbit looked stunned by the sudden switch. “…what?”

“You heard me.”

“I…um…last night?.”

Noah nearly rolled his eyes.

Rabbit sighed softly afterward, rubbing tiredly at one eye beneath his glasses. “A few hours here and there maybe.”

“A few—”

Noah stopped himself.

Christ.

“How are you functioning?”

“Poorly.”

Again with that dry humor.

Rabbit smiled faintly this time, though it looked exhausted around the edges.

Noah stared at him another second longer than appropriate.

The bruise.

The fatigue.

The stubbornness to open up.

Something about Rabbit Ashby pulled at every string he possessed. Something Noah normally kept buried beneath professionalism.

And the worst part?

He didn’t understand why.

Because attraction wasn’t supposed to feel like this.

Nyx was attraction.

Heat. Fantasy. Temptation.

But Rabbit,

Rabbit made him feel concerned.

Attentive. Careful.

That difference mattered.

Didn’t it?

“Professor?”

Noah realized he’d drifted again.

Rabbit stood waiting awkwardly in front of him.

Watching him carefully.

Noah cleared his throat. “You should go home.”

Rabbit laughed weakly. “I should. You’re being too nice Professor”

Something in Noah’s chest shifted strangely at that.

“How tragic,” he replied dryly. “I’ll try harder to seem unbearable next time.”

Rabbit blinked.

Then unexpectedly.

He laughed.

Actually laughed.

Soft and sudden and bright enough that Noah momentarily forgot what he’d been thinking entirely.

It transformed his face.

Made him look younger.

Warmer.

Pretty.

Noah immediately shut the thought down.

Rabbit seemed embarrassed by the sound himself, quickly looking away afterward.

“Sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing for laughing?”

Rabbit opened his mouth.

Paused.

Then frowned slightly like he genuinely didn’t know.

Noah noticed that too.

The realization settled heavily between them.

This boy apologized too much.

Who taught you that?

Noah’s jaw tightened faintly again.

“Go sleep, Rabbit. Doze off in my class one more time and your grade takes the hit.”

The boy looked startled at hearing his first name again rather than the punishment he gave.

Then slowly nodded.

“…okay.”

He turned toward the door.

Then hesitated.

“Professor?”

“Yes?”

Rabbit glanced back slightly, fingers picking at the edges of the books he held unto.

“…thank you.”

Noah watched him leave quietly. Releasing the breath he didn’t realize he had been holding.

His phone buzzed, it was a call from Brandon.

He felt his stomach twist.

A call from Brandon was always trouble.

“Caldwell here” he spoke, voice tight.

“What crawled up your ass and died?”

“…” he couldn’t come up with a response to that.

“Anyways, party this Friday”

“What’s the occasion?”

“Hart is getting promoted to Chief Finance Officer at the tech firm he works in”

“That’s good”

“Yeps, I’m securing a spot for us three at the club”

His nose scrunched up at the talk of the club, “what club?”

“I don’t know, maybe the club where you tongue-fucked a host” Brandon snorted.

“I didn’t”

“Yeah yeah, you better show up or I’m coming to drag you from your Madame Pince of a office”

“…”

“You know I always take your silence as yes? So it’s a yes! See your this Friday, look sharp!”

Brandon dropped the call before he could retort,

“What the fuck?”