Even though I try to reach out to him over the next few months following his departure, texting him or sending DMs, he replies very rarely. And when he does, the answers are evasive.
In the meantime, I have a lot on my plate, and my chances of staying at the college start to improve. I successfully co-write several research papers with professors, and my contributions become increasingly significant. They specialize in mathematical analysis, and soon I also get a teaching assistant position, which boosts my standing at the university and improves my chances of securing a post after graduation.
Of course, throughout this time I don’t stop participating in chess tournaments. At one of them, I get a chance to see Axel Lowen again.
I face him once more, fully aware that Axel might be either my half-brother or my cousin. I’m incredibly tempted to talk tohim, to say something, anything. But what exactly could I even tell him? I have no concrete information or details about how we’re related. In such a vague situation, how would he take it?
Probably not positively. As a guy from a billionaire family, he could easily see that kind of approach as some attempt to squeeze hush money out of him or stir up a scandal.
In the chess match, I win against him by a hair, becoming state champion again while he becomes runner-up.
It’s clear he isn’t stupid. He’s just a bit more cautious, and I’m more willing to take risks, which pays off. I know he studies genetics, following in the footsteps of his uncle, Blue Lowen.
So despite the strong temptation, I ultimately decide not to say anything to him beyond a polite exchange of congratulations and a courteous comment that, who knows, maybe next year he’ll take the title because he keeps getting better. He accepts it with a friendly nod.
But the meeting stirs a new strain of thought in my head, a strange longing that maybe I could somehow start digging for the truth about who my father is and work onmaking my loneliness a little less lonely. Maybe he would be open to at least secretly meeting with me… It would be awesome to have one person in this world to kinda… interact with.
Because I have nobody since Jared left.
But at the same time, fear grips me and blocks me from moving forward with the plan. As I struggle with the final decision of what to do, the situation around me suddenly changes.
Soon the end of my third year approaches, and something happens. Dereck breaks up with his boyfriend of several years and loudly complains to me that he’ll have to look for a new place to live, and apartments in the area are expensive.
In a moment of absolute stupidity, and still in this mood ofmaking my loneliness a little less lonely, I offer that he can stay with me temporarily until he finds something permanent.
He accepts the offer with great enthusiasm, and soon that temporary stay… turns into something much longer.
Dereck is delighted by how close my house is to campus, how much he saves on commuting, and that the only costs are utilities because my house is mortgage-free, which suits him perfectly, of course.
But… this arrangement doesn’t fully suit me, as it turns out.
I realize what I wanted wasn’t aninvasionof my space by some guy. I wanted something different, Bay, of course, and if not him, at least some… family connection. Some kinship.
And Dereck is not that. As I discover, I’ve grown used to a certain level of solitude, and also to the fact that I can walk around in just my boxers and don’t have to hide my dildo every time I leave my room.
On top of that, because Dereck still dabbles in music, he practices some pieces every evening like a robot, which is pretty irritating to me because, well, I’ll be blunt, he’s not Bay and his music just doesn’t do anything for me, I have no emotional investment in it.
There’s also something else that at first is very subtle. After the first few weeks of living together I notice that Dereck gravitates toward spending his evenings with me.
He suggests watching movies together, orders pizza for us to share, sometimes sits close to me, and over time sits even… closer. At first, I’m not sure if something is behind it, but whatever it is, it seems to grow very slowly.
There is, however, one upside to all this. Since Dereck now lives with me, my walks home from class are much safer because he often accompanies me.
But at the same time, as my responsibilities as a teaching assistant grow, I often have to stay late, and Dereck can’t always wait for me. Still, I’ve noticed that whenever I do ask, he’ll wait even an hour after his own classes without complaining about the inconvenience. For some reason, over time, I find myself asking less and less, because I don’t want to owe him too much.
Dereck is a beta with a bit of extra weight he never grew out of, probably thanks to his love of pizza. He wears thick glasses and his hair always looks slightly greasy no matter how often he washes it. He’s not my type at all, but he’s nice, and that’s something.
One day, around the middle of the semester, Professor Martin asks me to help him with one more class. He teaches data science, which I normally don’t take since I’m majoring in pure mathematics with two minors in applied mathematics and applied physics, but in this one case, I agree, because once again, I’m that nice guy who tries not to say no to professors.
When I head to that class something specific happens. I notice that one of the students in that program, a pretty buff beta, keeps staring at me with surprising intensity. His crude face looks vaguely familiar, but it’s hard for me to place where I know him from.
While Professor Martin is explaining something to the students and showing examples on the board, I notice that his laptop is open to the attendance list.
My eyes slide over the names and one of them grabs my attention.
Kaleb Hanson.
Fuck. I swallow hard as a wave of heat washes over me.
