The place is quiet. The silence is new and unsettling. Like somehow overnight this place was abandoned. Just the street,damp from this morning’s rain, and a sky so clear I want to swallow it whole.
Colton stirs, then sits up. His hair is flattened on one side, wild on the other. He blinks, then looks at me, eyes going sharp in an instant.
“You hungry?” he asks.
I nod.
He pulls on a pair of gray sweats. The fabric is soft but clings to his hips and legs, the outline of his cock hard to ignore even when he’s not trying to show it off. I expect him to say something, maybe a joke, but he doesn’t. He just heads to the kitchen, barefoot, and starts rummaging in the fridge.
Following, I jump up and sit on the counter, knees pulled to my chest, and watch him work. He’s good at this, the normal stuff. He cracks eggs one-handed, whisks them in a plastic bowl, adds milk and salt without measuring. The violence in his hands is gone, replaced by something almost domestic. Every motion is precise, practiced.
He slides bread into the toaster, sets the dial, then pours the eggs into a pan. I listen to the sizzle, the scrape of metal on metal, the click of the toaster as it pops.
He plates everything, and I jump down and head to the table, content just watching him work.
We eat in silence. The eggs are fluffy, the toast perfectly browned. I want to thank him, but the words get lost somewhere between my chest and my mouth.
Instead, I ask, “Did you sleep well?”
He chews, swallows, then shrugs. “Yeah, love holding you tight against me. Makes this all feel real.”
I flush, look down at my plate.
We finish breakfast. He pours two mugs of coffee and sets one in front of me. I take a sip, and it burns my tongue and throat as it goes down.
He reaches across the table and takes my hand. His palm dwarfs mine, but he’s careful, tracing circles over the back of my knuckles.
“I mean it,” he says. “I’ll kill anyone who tries to hurt you.”
I meet his eyes. There’s no threat in them. Just promise.
“I know,” I say.
The quiet grows, but it’s not empty. It’s full of every word we don’t know how to say.
He squeezes my hand, then lets go.
I stand and start clearing the plates, but he stops me. “Sit,” he says, and there’s no room for argument.
He moves behind me, slides his hands down my arms, and presses his forehead to the back of my neck. His breath is warm, steady.
“You doing okay?” he asks.
I nod.
He kisses my neck, once, then pulls away.
We spend the day in the dorm, just… being together. He reads, sprawled on the couch, and I curl up next to him, legs tangled with his and watch the newest episode of my favorite reality show. We don’t talk about what’s next. We don’t talk about the Hunt, or the Board, or my fucked-up lineage. We just exist, side by side, like we’re just a normal couple.
By nightfall, I can’t remember what it feels like to be afraid.
I know it won’t last. I know the world is waiting just outside the door, knives drawn and ready.
But for now, I am safe.
For now, I am home.
Chapter 16: Colton
