By now, it wasn't strange to see Kai walking beside Eli. At first, Eli thought it was just coincidence—two classmates heading in the same direction. But as the days went on, it became almost natural. If Eli stopped by the cafeteria, Kai somehow ended up there too. If Eli lingered in the hallway after class, Kai would be nearby, leaning against the wall with his usual calm expression.
They still spent time with their circle of friends, laughing at inside jokes, copying each other's notes when one missed a lecture, and teasing about little things. To anyone else, nothing seemed unusual. But Eli began to notice small shifts—moments that felt quieter, more personal, even though the world around them was still buzzing. It was as if the noise of their friends blurred into the background whenever it was just him and Kai.
One afternoon, their group had planned to meet at the library for project work. Eli arrived earlier than expected, assuming he would have a few minutes alone to get ready. But when he pushed the door open, he spotted Kai already there, sitting by the window with a book in hand. Sunlight streamed through the glass, outlining Kai's figure in soft light.
"You're early," Eli said, sliding into the chair across from him.
Kai looked up. For a moment, his lips curved into the smallest smile, a kind of smile that seemed rare but genuine. "So are you," he replied, closing the book gently.
The silence that followed was surprisingly comfortable. They worked side by side, flipping through papers and jotting notes. Every now and then, Eli would catch Kai's gaze resting on him—not in a strange way, but steady, almost thoughtful. It was the kind of look that made Eli feel seen in a way he couldn't quite explain. When their friends finally arrived with noisy chatter and energy, Eli found himself oddly disappointed. He missed the quiet he and Kai had shared, as if something unspoken had been interrupted.
Another day, as they left class together, Eli wasn't paying much attention and tripped over the loose strap of his bag. He stumbled forward, his notebook nearly slipping from his hands. Before he could hit the ground, a hand caught his arm firmly, holding him steady.
"Careful," Kai said softly. His voice carried no judgment, only concern.
Flustered, Eli muttered, "Thanks. Guess I'm clumsy."
Kai's expression softened, his eyes gentle in a way that made Eli pause. "I don't mind," he said simply.
Those words stuck in Eli's mind long after. He didn't know why something so small made his heart beat faster.
That night, the dream returned.
Eli found himself standing in a vast hall lit by torches. His robes were heavy with embroidered gold, and the air smelled faintly of smoke and old stone. Beside him was the same man he'd seen so many times before—the one who looked so much like Kai. Only here, the man carried himself like a king, his long hair framing his regal face, his eyes carrying the same quiet devotion.
Eli stumbled slightly on the edge of a thick carpet, and the man caught his hand quickly, steadying him. His voice was soft, almost identical to the one Eli had heard earlier that day.
"Careful," the man whispered. Then, with a faint smile: "I don't mind, as long as it's you."
Eli jolted awake, his heart pounding against his chest. The words, the touch, the gaze—it was all too similar.
Why did Kai look so much like the man in his dreams?
Why did reality feel like it was folding into something else, something deeper?
And more than that—why did the thought both comfort and terrify him at the same time?