Semua Bab Built with a Dare, broken by the Truth: Bab 71 - Bab 77

Spring had returned to the campus, softening the edges of every building, flooding courtyards with sunlight and the promise of new beginnings. For most students, it was just another season, another routine. For me, it was a reminder that time moved whether we were ready or not—and that patience, however frustrating, had become my constant companion.I walked the main path to the faculty building, coffee in hand, keeping my steps measured. Barry matched my pace beside me, quiet and deliberate, the only other person who understood what watching the juniors meant. We had been instructed, subtly but firmly, by those we cared for: do not interfere, do not act without consent, only step in if something goes wrong. And we followed it. Every day, every interaction, every small decision had been a lesson in restraint.From this distance, our “babies”—Randy, Edan, Brian, Jayden, Sandy—moved with confidence, laughter spilling freely between them. Months had passed since the chaos of the Dean and

The early evening air was warm but carried a hint of crispness, the kind of subtle change that made the campus feel alive in quiet ways. Students were trickling back to dorms, some lingering in small clusters on the quad. I stayed back, leaning against a lamppost, coffee gone cold in my hand, watching.Randy was there, as usual, leaning against the arts building railing, sketchbook open. Ramson crouched near him, pointing at something on the page. Their laughter carried across the empty quad, soft, low, a gentle thread of connection.I wanted to storm forward, grab Randy’s hand, tell him everything I had been holding back—but I didn’t. Months of patience had taught me restraint, and this was the path forward. Small, calculated gestures.Barry was beside me, quiet as always, leaning against the brick wall, eyes scanning the quad. He didn’t speak; he didn’t need to. I knew he understood my mind perfectly.I had spent weeks planning this, though no plan could fully prepare for Randy’s un

The sun was low, spilling amber across the quad, and Randy felt its warmth against his skin but didn’t really notice it. His sketchbook lay open on his lap, pages already filled with rough lines and half-formed shapes. Ramson sat beside him, pointing out small adjustments, laughing softly at something Randy had drawn, and Randy felt that familiar tightness in his chest,the one that told him he was safe, that he was content, that this moment, however small, mattered.But then he felt it. That subtle weight. That presence at the edge of his awareness. "Carlson"Randy’s chest tightened, and his pencil paused mid-stroke. He didn’t look up immediately. Not yet. He wanted to make sure it wasn’t imaginary.No,that unmistakable tilt of the head, the faint shadow near the railing,it’s him.He kept his posture relaxed, casual even, as though he hadn’t noticed, but his heart betrayed him, thudding harder with each heartbeat. Carlson wasn’t approaching recklessly. Not a step out of line. Jus

The next morning, the campus felt colder somehow, though the sun was bright, almost too bright. Randy walked across the quad, sketchbook tucked under his arm, pretending to notice the way the wind tugged at his jacket. He told himself it was just habit,observation, nothing more. But even before he looked, he felt it that presence at the edge of his awareness, a weight he couldn’t quite shake.And then he saw him, Carlson. Laughing with Troy near the fountain, shoulders relaxed, gestures fluid and unguarded. Randy stopped, almost imperceptibly, pretending to adjust the strap of his bag, heart hammering in his chest. That laugh—the one he knew so well, the one that always seemed effortless—hit him like a physical blow. His stomach twisted, a mixture of longing and irritation that he hated himself for feeling.He forced himself to keep walking, to keep moving, but every step was heavy. Every step pulled him closer to a line he wasn’t supposed to cross. He reminded himself silently tha