Chapter 111 — 1: Where Home Became Him

Chapter 111: Where Home Became Him

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"Oh!" Joey snapped his fingers suddenly. "I almost forgot. I’ve got news."

I didn’t like the excited tone in his voice. "What kind of news?"

His grin grew wider. "The maintenance guys finished most of the repairs."

I frowned. "What repairs?"

He looked at me like I’d missed something obvious. "...Our dorm."

It took a second to process. "The old dorm?"

"Yep. They’re almost done with everything...new wiring, new furniture, fresh paint, the whole package." He took a casual bite of his burger, as if he hadn’t just said something that landed like a stone in my stomach. "They said we should be able to move back really soon."

For a moment, it felt like the noise around us faded away as if one single piece of information could shift everything around it.

"Oh," I said, managing nothing else.

Joey didn’t notice how I tensed. "I know, right? You finally get our room back!"

I forced a laugh. "Yeah."

"You’ve been complaining about Preston Hall since day one, so I thought you’d be happy."

"Right." I smiled, at least I hoped I did.

Inside, my chest twisted uncomfortably.

Move back. The thought echoed in my head over and over, feeling almost cruel.

This was always the plan. Living with Damien was supposed to be a temporary fix...a bizarre coincidence, a stroke of bad luck that somehow turned into the best part of my college days.

I should’ve felt relieved. I should’ve been excited about going back to my old place again. But the thought of packing my things made my chest feel unexpectedly hollow.

Joey’s smile dimmed. "...Oliver?"

"Hmm?"

"That wasn’t a happy ’oh.’"

"What?"

"You looked like I told you someone stole your puppy."

I laughed weakly. "Don’t be ridiculous."

"Oliver." He leaned in closer. "Talk."

I sighed, staring into my drink. "I don’t—" I paused, trying to articulate feelings that had just fully surfaced. "I don’t want to leave."

Joey raised an eyebrow. "Because of fancy-smancy Preston Hall?"

I shook my head. "Nope."

"...Because of Damien?"

The answer slipped out before I could think. "Yeah."

It barely came out as a whisper and Joey nodded slowly. "I figured."

"I think I’ve gotten used to it."

"To the hall?"

"To everything."

I looked out the cafeteria window, observing students walking across the quad under the warm afternoon sun, all unaware of the turmoil unfolding at our table.

"I know I don’t belong there," I said.

"Says who?"

"I do."

"Based on what?"

I let out a dry laugh. "Joey, have you fucking seen that place?"

"I have."

"It’s ridiculous, I could never be able to afford a year at that building."

"I know."

"I still feel out of place every time I walk through those doors and bump into our neighbors."

"But?"

I offered a faint smile. "He never makes me feel like I don’t belong."

Joey stayed quiet, letting me continue.

"Everyone else sees the scholarship kid, the poor guy, barista boy, the accident waiting to happen." I swallowed hard. "But Damien... he just sees me, I really want to spend more time with him before I go."

My words sank in deeply. I’d spent too long preparing to lose people... my mom, and now, slowly but surely, my dad. That I’d forgotten what it felt like to enjoy having someone nearby without already expecting them to leave.

Maybe I was falling into that trap again. Pre-grieving something I hadn’t lost yet.

We hung around after lunch for another half hour, slipping back into easier conversation. Joey shared a story about a professor accidentally projecting his grocery list instead of a lecture slide, and I laughed so hard my sides hurt.

He went off about his stepdad’s obsession with motivational podcasts, claiming he woke up every morning to someone yelling, "Rise and grind!" through a speaker positioned next to their shared wall.

"I swear," Joey groaned, running a hand down his face. "If I hear one more millionaire tell me I need to wake up at four in the morning, I’m committing a crime."

I giggled into my drink. "What kind of crime?"

"I don’t know." He shrugged. "Probably theft."

"What are you stealing?"

"His alarm clock, out of his hands, mid-sentence about gratitude journaling."

By the time we finally left the cafeteria, the weight I felt inside hadn’t disappeared. But it felt a bit lighter now, the conversation having loosened something that had been uncomfortably tight in my chest all day.

The sun had begun to set by the time I returned to Preston Hall, the building standing just as grand and elegant against the orange sky, the kind of architecture that made me stop and stare like a tourist in my own home.

A few weeks ago, I looked at it and saw a place that wasn’t mine, a space I was just borrowing.

Now it felt different. Not because the building had changed.

But because someone inside was waiting for me.

That thought sent a pang through my heart, one I wasn’t quite ready for.

I stepped inside quietly. "I’m home," I called out.

A familiar voice came from the living room. "There you are."

Damien glanced up from the sofa, closing the book resting on his lap. "How was lunch?"

I smiled before I even realized it. "Chaotic."

He chuckled. "I’ll take that as a good sign."

"It was."

He studied me for a second, his gaze lingering a moment too long. "...And?"

"And what?"

"You’ve got that look."

"What look?"

"The one that says you’re overthinking something."

I let out a quiet laugh, my face wasn’t known for hiding my emotions. "I hate my face."

"Don’t, it’s pretty."

There was something so warm and easy in the way he said it that the familiar tightness in my chest returned, the weight I hadn’t fully set down from earlier.

Maybe Joey was onto something. Maybe I really had changed.

Without even thinking about it, I crossed the room and sat down beside Damien on the couch, closing the distance I’d kept in those early weeks.

He looked at me, a small smile forming, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he nudged my shoulder with his in a silent greeting, familiar by now, the kind that somehow meant more than words could manage.

That night, after we got ready for bed, the room fell quiet as usual. The lights were off, and only the soft glow of moonlight slipped through the curtains, casting pale stripes on the floor.

I lay beside Damien, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing.

Tomorrow. Or maybe the day after. Soon, I’d need to pack my things.

The thought wouldn’t leave me alone, circling like a persistent shadow. Without really thinking about it, I shifted closer until my forehead rested lightly against his shoulder, my arm wrapping around him a little tighter than normal, as if some part of me wanted to memorize this feeling before it became something I had to look back on from a distance.

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

Then I felt his fingers brush gently under my chin, lifting it slightly.

"Oliver." His voice was rough with sleep. "What’s wrong?"

I forced a smile that he couldn’t even see in the dark. "...Nothing."

"You sure?"

"Just tired."

He was quiet for a moment. Then, without pushing further, he leaned down and placed the softest kiss on the top of my head.

"So am I," he murmured. "Get some sleep."

My heart raced, a sudden, sharp lurch that echoed through my chest. I closed my eyes, hoping he’d think my silence was sleep rather than what it truly was. A few minutes later, his breathing deepened. He’d drifted off.

I hadn’t.

I stared up at the dark ceiling, my mind racing with thoughts about Joey’s words, the repaired dorm, everything that awaited me once this temporary arrangement reached its inevitable end.

I had told myself that moving back would feel like a weight lifted. That life would simply revert to normal.

But somewhere along the way, that normal had shifted completely without asking for my approval.

Normal had become sharing breakfast with Damien every morning, trading sarcastic comments across a kitchen that smelled like fresh coffee, watching movies on a couch that had stopped needing distance. Falling asleep next to someone who made the world feel less lonely than it had for years.

The thought of losing all that suddenly felt unbearable in a way I hadn’t expected.

I told myself I was okay with leaving when the time came.

But lying there in Damien’s arms, listening to him breathe in the darkness, I knew I was lying to myself more than I’d convinced anyone else.

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𝔞𝔲𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔯’𝔰 𝔯𝔞𝔪𝔟𝔩𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰

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