He didn't say anything at first. Just watched from across dining hall tables, from the edges of classrooms, from the benchnear the athletic complex where he'd taken to reading in the mornings. Present but not pressing. There like a question I didn't have to answer.
But on Friday, he fell into step beside me as I left the library.
"You're not sleeping."
"I'm sleeping fine."
"You're not." He kept pace easily, long legs matching my stride. "I can tell. You've got that look."
"What look?"
"The one where you're running calculations behind your eyes. Like you're always solving something."
I didn't slow down. "Maybe I am."
"Want to tell me what?"
"No."
He nodded, accepting that. We walked in silence for a while, our breath fogging in the cold air. The snow had stopped overnight, leaving the campus blanketed in white. Beautiful, if you were the kind of person who noticed beauty. Right now, I was the kind of person who noticed ice patches and wind direction and the angle of the sun.
"You asked Boone about solo survival yesterday," James said.
I stopped walking. "You were listening?"
"I was in the hallway." He had the grace to look slightly embarrassed. "Wasn't trying to eavesdrop. But you were asking about dying alone on a mountain, so. Hard not to pay attention."
"It was a hypothetical."
"Was it?"
The hum flared between us, warm and insistent. I wanted to lean into it. I wanted to run.
"James."
"I know." He held up his hands. "You don't want to talk about it. I'm not asking you to. I'm just—" He stopped, frustration flickering across his face. "I'm worried. That's all. You're traininglike you're preparing for war, and you won't tell anyone why, and I don't know how to help if you won't let me in."
"Maybe I don't need help."
"Everyone needs help sometimes."
"Not everyone."
He looked at me—really looked, with those steady brown eyes that seemed to see past every wall I'd built. "You're not as alone as you think you are, Lumi."
The words hit somewhere tender. I turned away before he could see the impact.
"I have to go."
"I know." He didn't try to stop me. "Just... be careful. Whatever you're planning. Please."
I walked away without answering.
The supply skimming started small.
A few extra energy bars from the dining hall, pocketed during breakfast. A thermal blanket from the First Aid supply closet—Boone had dozens, he wouldn't miss one. Waterproof matches from the outdoor equipment room. Paracord from the climbing wall supplies.
Nothing dramatic. Nothing that would raise flags. Just quiet, methodical acquisition.
