Chapter 5: The Safe option

Theo had a way of making everything seem less suffocating.

He wasn’t flawless like the rest of Halewood’s golden heirs. He wasn’t dripping with arrogance, wasn’t weighed down by his family name. He was messy. He laughed too loud, ate like he hadn’t seen food in weeks, and seemed to exist in perpetual disarray.

And somehow, that chaos felt… safe.

In a campus full of masks and sharpened smiles, Theo was the only one who didn’t pretend.

We started sitting together in lectures. Meeting in the library. Sharing late-night coffee runs when assignments buried us alive.

With him, I could breathe. I could almost forget about Damien’s storm-gray eyes, the way they followed me like a shadow stitched to my skin.

Almost.

Because Damien never let me forget for long.

---

It was small things at first.

A seat saved for me in class, even though I hadn’t asked.

Theo joking about taking me to a party—Damien suddenly “showing up” at that exact café, sliding into the booth beside me without invitation.

Theo nudging my shoulder as we laughed about a professor’s monotone voice—Damien’s sharp gaze catching me from across the courtyard, hard enough to slice through the moment.

I told myself it was coincidence. But deep down, I knew better.

Damien wasn’t chasing. He was haunting.

---

One night, Theo dragged me to the music hall.

“You need a break,” he insisted, tugging me along despite my protests.

The place was empty, save for a grand piano gleaming under the soft glow of overhead lights. Theo sat down at it, cracking his knuckles dramatically before pressing a few hesitant notes.

“You play?” I asked, surprised.

He grinned. “Badly. But that never stopped me.”

And then he played—not well, not like the polished prodigies of Halewood, but with clumsy passion that filled the hall with warmth. He stumbled, cursed under his breath, laughed at himself, and started again.

It was imperfect. Human. Alive.

I found myself smiling, tension melting from my shoulders for the first time in weeks.

“Your turn,” Theo said, nudging me.

“I don’t play.”

“Then try.”

I rolled my eyes, but slid onto the bench beside him anyway. My fingers hovered over the keys awkwardly. He guided them with his own, his touch light, friendly, grounding.

And for a fleeting moment, I forgot about everything else.

Until the sound of slow, deliberate clapping echoed through the hall.

My stomach dropped.

Damien stood at the doorway, hands in his pockets, lips curved in that dangerous smirk.

“Well,” he drawled, voice dripping with mockery. “Isn’t this adorable.”

Theo froze. His easy grin faltered. “Uh… do you need something?”

Damien’s eyes never left me. “No. I already have what I need.”

The words slid under my skin like a brand.

Theo shifted slightly, as if to place himself between us. “Eliot’s busy. Maybe you should—”

Damien’s gaze flicked to him, sharp enough to silence him instantly. Then back to me. Always back to me.

“Enjoy your… playdate,” he murmured, before turning on his heel and vanishing into the shadows.

But his absence was worse than his presence. Because the moment he left, the air felt thinner, colder, emptier.

And I realized something terrifying:

Theo was the safe option.

But Damien? Damien was the storm I couldn’t stop walking into.