The Intruder

Chapter 6- The Intruder

Roman turned around and walked to the front of the class. “Today, we'll be learning about symbiotic relationships.” His eyes met Lysan’s. “Organisms that shouldn't work together—but they do.”

He smiled and removed his gaze from Lysan. “Some relationships are parasitic, one consumes the other. But some are mutual—both thrive and survive.”

Then he paused. “The question is knowing which is which.”

—

After the class, student filed out of the greenhouse, but Lysan still remained, examaining his rose bush.

Then he felt a presence behind him.

Thinking it was Roman again, he snapped. “Can't you just let me be? What the fuck is your problem?” He turned around and froze on the spot.

It was Dyleon.

“Wow.” He scoffed, crossing his arm. “I never knew it had gone that far Lysan.”

“No, Dyleon, I didn't know it was… I thought you were—”

“Roman.” Dyleon replied sharply. “You're not fooling anyone, Lysan.”

Lysan closed his eyes and exhaled. “Dyleon its—”

“You're not fooling anyone.” He repeated. “I don’t know the kind of game you're playing with Roman, but I'm certain that he isn't just here because Professor Cullen is sick. He's also here because of you.”

Lysan didn't respond.

Dyleon stepped closer, his voice dropped. “I don't know what's going on with you or why you're acting like a different person. But I know you're in danger, and I can't help you if you won't talk to me.”

“I don't need your help, Dyleon.”

“Of course you do.” He grabbed Lysan's arm. “You just do not want to admit it.”

For a moment, Lysan saw the old Dyleon. The one who punched his shoulder and called him “Lys.” The one who always saved him a seat at dinner.

Then Dyleon released his arm and stepped back. “Be careful, Lysan.” He said, his voice flat. “I won't be there to catch you if you fall.” He turned around and walked out.

Lysan watched him go, and felt a dull ache in his chest. He couldn't tell Dyleon the truth. He couldn't even tell anyone.

—

Lysan returned to his dorm and met it empty. Kassian hadn't returned yet. He dropped his bag, picked the box that Roman gave him and went to sit on his bed.

There was a seedling inside the box. The roots were tangled, so he began carefully seperating them, working carefully,like he had done it a thousand times.

He was so engrossed in the seedling that he almost missed it.

There was a single white rose on his pillow—it was still fresh, and the stalk was still green.

But there wasn't a note this time. As Lysan saw it, he went still immediately, his heart began pounding hard against his chest.

Someone had been in his dorm.

He looked at Kassian's empty bed, and thought it was him. But then he remembered that Kassian was in the greenhouse, sitting beside Dyleon, so he couldn't have placed it.

Lysan picked up the rose slowly, and the thorn pricked his fingers, and then he realized it was placed stem-up deliberately, so the thorns were exposed.

It was a coded message. 

I could hurt you whenever I want.

Lysan’s jaw tightened as he crushed the rose in his fist, the thorn pricking him as blood trickled down his fingers.

Whoever was playing this game with him, before they could make another move.

—

Lysan lay on his bed, the crushed rose still in his. palm.

He couldn't sleep. Anytime he closed his eyes, he saw the white rose, his mind went to the hidden message.

Who else had a key to the room? Who could have gotten in?

He looked at the door—it was locked, so was the window.

Then he heard a soft footstep in the hallway, then another. The sound of the footsteps drew closer until it stopped outside his door. 

Lysan held his breath.

The doorknob turned carefully and stopped.

Whoever that was, they were checking if the door was locked.

And they had a key.

Lysan stood up silently, grabbing a blade from under his pillow. He tip-toed and pressed himself against the wall beside the door.

The doorknob turned again, and the door creaked open—just an inch.

Then the lights in the dorm went off.

Lysan strained his eyes and saw a shadow slip through the gap, then he lunged forward.

He pinned the figure against the wall and placed the blade at his throat.

The figure gasped—and the voice sounded familiar.

“Lysan— it's me.”

Lysan froze.

The light went back on and Lysan saw the figure. It was Dyleon.

Dyleon stared up at him, wide eyed, his hands raised up in surrender.

“Put the knife down,” Dyleon whispers. “Please.”

Lysan didn't move away or drop the knife. “You have a key to my room. Why?” 

“I have a key to every room. I'm the student prefect.” Dyleon's voice shook terribly as he spoke. “I was asked to do a head count of every student in the dorm, and I heard you tossing and turning. I came to check on you.”

“Why would you do a head count at midnight?” Lysan narrowed his eyes.

“I was asked to do it earlier, but I didn't. I couldn't sleep, so I just decided to walk around doing it.” His eyes searched Lysan's face. “Can you please put the knife down?”

Lysan hesitated for a minute, then he finally lowered the blade.

Dyleon exhaled, his hand gripping his chest. “What the hell, Lysan? You almost killed me.”

“Well, you should know better than to sneak into someone's room at midnight.” He dropped the blade on his reading table.

“I knocked, you didn't answer.” He rubbed his throat where the blade pressed.” “I got worried you might be in trouble. Is that so hard to believe?”

Lysan didn't answer, he turned around and walked to his bed.

Dyleon followed him, and his eyes caught the white rose petals scattered on the bed.

“What is that?” He asked.

Lysan’s heart started beating fast as he ran his hand through his hair. “It's nothing.”

“That's not nothing Lysan. It's a white rose.” He stepped closer. “This is the second time I am seeing you with a fresh white rose. It's not a coincidence, Lysan.” His voice was sharper now. “What's going on?”