Alexis's POV
The psych lecture hall smelled like aging whiteboard markers and academic panic. I was already halfway through a caffeine crash when Professor Tanaka cleared her throat at the front of the room.
"I just want to take a moment to acknowledge something," she said, adjusting her glasses. "Last week's peer-led workshop had the highest turnout of any mental health initiative this department has organized. Ethan. Alexis. Exceptional work."
She didn't smile much. But today, she actually did.
I blinked. My pen froze mid-word.
"Several anonymous notes praised the language and layout of the hand outs," she added. "They felt... deeply personal. Whoever wrote those—well done!"
And then I opened my mouth.
I wish I hadn't.
"That's how you get people to care," I said, quietly. "You draw them in before they realize it's about them."
Silence.
A few students nodded, murmuring in agreement.
Except for Noah.
He was watching me. Really watching. Like he just heard a puzzle click together in his head.
Class moved on, but my brain didn't.
After lecture, I made a beeline for the exit.
Of course he caught up with me.
"Hey," Noah said, matching my pace. "Can I ask you something?"
I nodded warily.
"You draw, right?"
I blinked. "What?"
"That comment earlier—'draw them in'—sounded... artistic. Not just metaphorical."
I forced a laugh. "It was metaphorical. I can barely draw a circle."
He smiled, but it didn't touch his eyes. "Got it."
I walked faster. So did he.
"Just wondering," he said.
Just wondering.
Right.
That night, I went to the library. Back corner. Hoodie up. Head down. Just me and the sketch I couldn't stop thinking about—a boy on a bench, hands clasped, head tilted up like he was waiting for the stars to answer something he hadn't said aloud.
It wasn't Ethan.
But it could've been.
I opened my laptop. Logged in to Shadows & Signals. The sketch and caption were already uploaded. All that remained was to hit "submit."
And then—
"So you do draw."
I snapped my head up.
Noah.
He leaned against the edge of the table like a man with time and a theory.
"Library's public, you know," he said, tapping the back of a chair.
My heart hammered.
"What do you want?"
He shrugged. "Confirmation."
"For what?"
"That I'm not losing my mind connecting dots. Sketches. Quotes. The timing. You."
Silence stretched between us like taut string.
"You're reaching," I said, voice calm even though my pulse wasn't.
Noah tilted his head. "Maybe. But if I'm right—why are you hiding it?"
I stared at him. "Because not everything needs to be explained. Or proven. Some things just… exist."
He didn't reply.
Didn't press further.
Just nodded once.
And walked away.
Third Person POV — off campus, after dusk
Jhonathan and Amelia were halfway through a shared box of fries on the low stone wall outside Dean's Café.
"You ever think about how weird it is," Amelia said, popping a fry into her mouth, "that we measure intelligence with exams instead of how fast someone can decode 'I'm fine' in a text?"
Jhonathan chuckled. "So by your standard, I'm either very smart or very doomed."
She tilted her head. "You're quiet tonight."
"I've been watching," he said. "Noticing."
Amelia raised an eyebrow. "Noticing what?"
"You get louder when you're nervous. And right now, you're not loud at all."
She froze mid-bite.
"Are you… analyzing me?"
"Always," he said softly.
For a beat, she looked unsure. Then she laughed, short and real.
"Well then, Dr. Freud," she teased. "What's your diagnosis?"
He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he reached out and brushed a bit of salt from her cheekbone.
"You're soft when you think no one's watching. I think that's brave."
And Amelia—chaotic, fierce, always-armed-with-sarcasm Amelia—blinked.
Didn't joke.
Didn't deflect.
Just said, "Thank you."
The air between them shimmered.
Not with heat, but possibility.
Back in the library
I closed my laptop.
Didn't submit the sketch.
But I didn't delete it either.
Because now someone knew.
And somehow, that made it real.