Ethan's POV
At first, it was just a glance.
Alexis stood up mid-lecture. Too fast. Way too fast. Her chair scraped the floor and everyone turned to look, but she didn't care. Mumbled something about the bathroom and bolted.
I didn't move right away. But MY eyes tracked her like they were wired to her presence. Something was off.
It had been ten minutes.
Then twelve.
Then fifteen.
By the time I hit the hallway, my brain had already played five worst-case scenarios and was working on the sixth.
I reached the girl's bathroom and hesitated just a second—then pushed open the door.
She was on the floor.
My chest hollowed out like someone had punched the air from my lungs.
"Alexis."
I dropped to his knees. She was curled up against the wall, eyes glazed, breath shallow, hoodie clinging to her like a second skin. My hoodie. Her face was damp with sweat. She didn't even flinch when I touched her shoulder.
"I've got you," I said. "Okay? I've got you."
She whispered something, lips barely moving.
"So pretty… I need to draw this."
I blinked. Hard.
And picked her up.
Amelia's dorm was locked. Of course it was.
And Alexis was practically unconscious, fingers curled into my shirt like letting go would snap something inside her.
I didn't think. Just walked. Fast.
Straight to my apartment.
I laid her down on my bed, got a wet cloth, pulled the blanket up to her chin, and sat beside her for hours. Watching her breathe. Watching her sweat and twitch and mumble through her fever dreams.
"Don't leave," she whispered once.
My heart broke quietly in the corner.
"Never," I said.
Alexis's POV
The first thing I noticed was the sunlight.
Soft, golden, slipping through half-open blinds.
Then came the smell—warm linen, soap, something earthy. Familiar.
I blinked.
This wasn't my room.
And that—was definitely his hoodie still on me.
My head throbbed. My throat felt dry. My body ached like I'd been hit by a really polite truck.
Then I turned—and my breath caught in my throat.
Ethan was there.
Asleep. Slumped in a chair beside the bed. One arm slung across the mattress, the other resting under his cheek.
His lashes looked like brushstrokes. Messy. Sharp. Beautiful.
I didn't remember much—just the bathroom, the spinning, the cold tiles.
Everything else was a blur of warmth and shadows.
And him.
He'd carried me. Stayed with me.
Took care of me.
The thought made my chest twist. A weird, uncomfortable, beautiful twist.
I shifted slightly. The bed creaked.
His eyes snapped open.
He blinked once, then sat up straighter.
"You're awake," he said, voice scratchy with sleep.
"Yeah…" I whispered. "Where are we?"
"My place. Amelia wasn't home."
"Oh." I sat up slowly. My head spun. "I don't remember much."
"You fainted. Had a fever. I—uh—brought you back here."
His voice was careful. Like every word was stepping on glass.
I looked down at myself—his blanket, his hoodie, his bed—and flushed hard.
"Did I—say anything weird?"
He hesitated.
"You were out of it."
"That bad?"
A pause.
"You tried to draw my face mid-fever and called me 'so pretty it's confusing,'" he said flatly.
I stared at him horrified.
Then buried my face in my hands.
"I'm going to jump out the window. Tell my future husband I died bravely."
Ethan snorted.
"Relax. I've been called worse."
"Oh my god."
"I made tea," he added, standing. "And toast. You okay to eat?"
I peeked through my fingers.
"...Do I have to face you while doing it?"
"Yes."
"Ugh. Fine."
We ate breakfast in silence. He sat at the counter, sipping tea. I perched on the edge of the couch, nibbling toast like it was going to judge me.
He watched me a little too long. I tried not to notice.
"You feeling better?" he asked finally.
"Yeah. Still kind of fuzzy, though."
He nodded.
I didn't ask anything else.
Didn't bring up the sketch comment.
Didn't ask why he stayed up all night beside my bed.
Didn't ask why his place felt more like safety than my own room ever had.
But as I looked at him over my cup of coffee, something shifted quietly inside me.
A thought I couldn't un-think.
He stayed.
And for the first time in a long time—
I wanted someone to.