004.

LIAM’S POV. 

I was summoned.

The email was short, awfully precise, and devoid of context. “Liam Moonfang, report to Professor Callahan’s office. Immediately.”

“Are you sure you’ll go alone? You seem really gloomy,” Bethel asked for the umpteenth time as she trailed behind me. 

“I’ll be fine, Bethel. Thank you.” 

“Are you sure? I just want to make sure you’re alright—” 

“I said I’ll be fine, Bethel! What more do you want?!” I snapped at her, my voice rising. 

Regret registered on my tongue like an acrid drink as it scalded my throat while I watched Bethel’s face fall in despair. I always tried to avoid lashing out on her. 

“He’s a big boy, Bethel. He can handle Professor Callahan. Understand that or your presence will soon become a chore,” Thea stated, startling both of us by popping out of nowhere. 

Bethel turned to face her, her face twisting into something malicious. “Maybe you should listen to your own advice, Thea. You follow him everywhere like he’s your owner. I wonder how many more eyes you need to see that he doesn’t want you.” 

Thea gasped at Bethel’s words. Students slowly began to close in on us and I hated it. But hold on, something didn’t feel right. 

“How did you know I was going to Callahan’s office, Thea?”

Thea’s face fell. Was she stalking me, perhaps? That’s sick. Realization dawned on me as my phone pinged as a notification entered. Thea’s phone did the same thing. She hacked my phone and somehow wired it to work with hers. Wasn’t that awesome. 

“So, you’re not only clingy, but also a stalker? Talk about being multitalented!” Bethel mused sarcastically while I glared at Thea. 

“Bethel, enough!” I ordered, staying calm as I controlled my breathing to avoid losing my cool. “Walk away. I’ll see you later.” I said, and she backed off without complaint. 

“Liam, I…” Thea began as she tried to hold my shirt but I jerked her off so hard that she fell down.

I’d never induced violence for once but not respecting my privacy was an insult on its own. “Never come near me again. Or you’ll curse the first kiss your father gave your mother.” I walked away from the scene feeling betrayed and conflicted. 

Another message had given me an ultimatum, causing me to pick up the pace and reach there faster, all the while, my mind being pulled in different directions. 

Nothing good ever came from a message like that. My stomach twisted the entire walk over, my mind replaying the one scene I couldn’t escape: Zelest, half-dressed, sunlight bleeding over his skin, and the mess I’d made in the aftermath. It’s been three days since the incident. 

I tried not to let that memory follow me up the stairs. Tried not to think about how I hadn’t spoken to him since. About how I’d avoided eye contact in the hallway, pretended he didn’t exist in class, kept my walls high and voice low. It was easier that way. Safer.

But the second I stepped into Callahan’s office, all that crumbled.

He was already there.

Zelest sat in the chair by the window like he belonged there. Calm. Distant. Unbothered. His eyes flicked up briefly—just enough to acknowledge my existence—before returning to a spot on the wall like I wasn’t worth looking at twice. I felt horrible about it—all of it. And I wasn’t sure why. Why would I feel that way when I clearly made my stance clear by rejecting our bond?

The silence was thick like it could be cut with a butter knife. 

Professor Callahan didn’t even look up as he scribbled something in his planner. “Nice of you to join us, Mr. Moonfang. Take a seat.”

I did reluctantly. Leaving two chairs of space between us wouldn’t have changed the way Zelest’s presence pressed on my nerves.

“So,” Callahan said finally, setting his pen down. “Neither of you attended your presentation slot.”

No apology came from either side.

He looked between us, unimpressed. “I’d ask why, but I get the feeling I’d hear more drama than substance.”

Zelest’s posture didn’t shift. 

“There was a scheduling conflict,” I said, voice cool and dismissive.

Zelest almost laughed, a stifled smile from his end.

“Is there a problem, Mr. Hawthorne?” 

“Scheduling conflict?” Zelest turned to me, his tone sharp and hollow. Only then did I get a clearer view of him, his silver eyes seemed hollow and his cheek leaner. “You mean our emotional disaster of a partnership?”

His jaw twitched as he added, still refusing to look at me. “If you had better control over your emotions, we wouldn’t be here.”

“Enough,” Professor Callahan barked, his voice suddenly thunderous. That was enough to make us calm again. 

He exhaled slowly. “You two are a disaster waiting to happen. And as much as I’d love to let you carry this course over, I’ve already seen the quality of your submitted work. I know you’re both capable. You just hate each other.”

He opened a folder, sliding out a sheet. “So here’s what’s going to happen. There’s a departmental program this Saturday till next month—Silvercrest Behavioral Grounds. Case studies, group exercises, psychological profiling simulations on Rogue Psychology. You’re going.”

I blinked. “Excuse me?”

He didn’t repeat himself.

“One project. One paper. One tent. No switching partners. No excuses. And if you don’t return with results…” he gave us both a pointed look, “...you’ll retake the entire course. Individually.”

I didn’t say anything. Neither did Zelest. But I saw him tense beside me, even if it was for just a second.

Finally, he spoke. “Fine.”

Just one word, like he was agreeing to a dinner reservation instead of a whole month of hell.

I stood abruptly, chair scraping back. “This is a terrible idea.”

Callahan smiled coldly. “Terrible ideas often make great breakthroughs. Dismissed.”

I stormed out, not looking back. But I felt Zelest follow.

And I hated the part of me that was already wondering what sharing a tent with him would do to the threads I was barely holding together. 

That would be disastrous.