Llewellyn walked through the institute halls, footsteps steady, eyes unfocused.
Girls called his name when he passed, their voices light, teasing, hopeful. Normally, he would at least give them a smile — the kind that made hearts tumble and knees weak.
But today, he didn't look at any of them.
His chest felt warm in a way he didn't have the patience to understand.
No — he knew exactly why. He just refused to admit it.
He kept walking, gaze down, mind elsewhere, until...
Thud.
He bumped into someone, and the scent of leather and cold night hit him.
Rick. Wearing black jacket. Black shirt. Black everything stared at him with a blank face.
"What is with you?" Rick asked.
"What do you mean?" Llewellyn replied, a little too fast.
Rick raised an eyebrow, slow and judging.
"You went to meet Diane. Now you're walking like your soul left your body."
Llewellyn blinked then looked around.
Only then did he realize he was standing directly in front of the girls' restroom.
Rick stared at him.
Llewellyn stared back.
"Oh," he said flatly.
"You're gone bro. Diane cooked your brain". Rick teased.
"Shut up," Llewellyn muttered, though the heat in his chest betrayed him.
Rick just smirked. "Uh-huh. Totally not affected."
They turned and went into the men's restroom instead. The moment they stepped inside, the air shifted. The boys inside paused mid-conversation, as if danger anger and calm. Llewellyn and Rick's eyes scanned the space, and anyone watching would notice something immediately: golden dark eyes, calm yet rebellious green eyes that spoke of power and control without a word.
No further interaction was needed. The presence of Llewellyn and Rick alone demanded respect in this slowly solemn, almost menacing institute. The other men shuffled away quickly, still readjusting themselves to what they'd just witnessed, leaving the two of them alone.
Inside, Llewellyn stood composed, a mix of arrogance, wealth, and untouchable calm radiating from him. Rick adjusted his black jacket as he moved toward the sink, while Llewellyn leaned against the golden surface, gaze fixed on the floor. Both men exuded a quiet dominance, each in their own way.
Rick shook his hair back and muttered, "Ah, I need more coffee."
He glanced at Llewellyn again.
"You're in deep, Llewe."
Llewellyn exhaled slowly. "The feeling… it's… I don't know what it is."
"It's love," Rick said. "It's sweet. It's warm. It's wanting someone even when they're not next to you. And when they're far, it feels like something inside you is just… missing."
For a moment, the words didn't sound like advice.
They sounded like a wound speaking.
"It sucks," Rick finished quietly.
Llewellyn looked at him. He understood. Even if he didn't say it.
Rick let the silence settle before asking, "How do you plan to handle your father?"
Llewellyn didn't react. No tension. No shift. Just stillness.
Instead, he asked, "I'm taking Diane to the party. Should I order a car for her, or pick her up myself?"
Rick stared at him. "You're literally like a high school boy in love right now."
"I asked you a question," Llewellyn snapped, though his ears were just slightly red.
"From a slap to spinning in circles," Rick laughed. "She really knocked your senses straight."
Llewellyn groaned, raking his hand through his hair. "How helpless!"
"You've never taken anyone to a party as your date," Rick pointed out.
"Well I'm taking her," Llewellyn said simply.
"If you pick her up from her house, that'll be...creepy."
"Why?" Llewellyn asked, genuinely confused.
"Because... I'm guessing you never asked for her address, and then you show up..." Rick said exasperated. "That's stalking bro. You don't want her to think, you know all her details already."
"I already let her know" Llewellyn said softly.
Rick stared. "You WHAT?"
"Guess I'm ordering a car, then," Llewellyn said, ignoring the disaster he had just caused. "Make arrangements for everything she might need."
He pushed off the sink, fixing his hair with minimal effort, yet somehow it fell perfectly anyway.
They stepped out of the restroom.
The boys waiting outside straightened instantly, eyes widening.
Llewellyn walked past with one hand in his pocket, carrying that dangerous, magnetic calm that didn't need announcing. Rick followed beside him, both hands tucked into his jacket, each step slow and precise, like he owned the floor he walked on.
"How cool…" one guy whispered under his breath, too afraid to actually say it out loud.
The hallway buzzed with chatter, but their presence carved a silent path.
Rick spoke as they walked.
"Remember—no reacting. Your dad throws words like knives. Just stay chill," Rick advised, though Llewellyn's expression suggested his mind was somewhere far from fatherly wars.
Then Ana stepped into their path.
Her anger was like fire held behind her teeth.
She stood before them, blocking their walk, shoulders square, eyes burning.
"Bro… casualties ahead," Rick whispered into Llewellyn's ear.
"Stop," Llewellyn muttered, already tired, "I didn't start a war."
Rick tried to be polite anyway.
"Hi, Ana."
"Shut up, Rink," she snapped sharply.
Rick blinked. "Okay."
(She never called him by the right name anyway.)
Ana turned her fury back to Llewellyn.
"Who is she?"
Her voice was tight, trembling at the edges.
"Who is who?" he replied, tone almost bored.
"The girl you're taking to the party. Instead of me."
Her breathing was heavy, sharp, bruised pride showing through.
"Just someone new," he answered.
Ana's throat bobbed. "Does she know you already have a fiancee?"
"She figured it out herself," Llewellyn said quietly.
That one sentence broke something.
Her lips parted. Her heels clicked once as she stepped back, expression cracking for a moment she couldn't hide.
Rick looked away out of secondhand heartbreak.
Llewellyn sighed, stepping forward.
"Come on. I'll take you home."
He took her hand not out of romance, but with responsibility, history, duty. She didn't fight or speak.
She just walked with him her heels clicking against the floor, she simply let him guide her toward the waiting car, where the driver stood ready.
******
Diane slipped into the café, hoping caffeine would exile the memories of a Llewellyn, but it still lingered. She stepped up to the counter.
"One coffee, please," she said, polite but tired.
The bell chimed behind her. Then came a familiar voice, drained but still somehow teasing:
"Two cups of coffee… God, I need to stay alive."
Diane's eyelids twitched. She knew that voice.
Rick.
She turned. He turned. Their eyes met like two cats who refused to step aside in a hallway.
"What, stranger?" Rick said, lifting a brow as if it took effort to be awake.
"Bodyguard?" Diane replied, just as unimpressed.
"I told you, I'm not a bodyguard," Rick said, leaning forward slightly, green eyes looking half-dead but stubborn.
"And I am not a stranger," Diane countered with the soft confidence of someone who would win arguments even while half asleep.
They stared at each other, two different brands of stubbornness.
Rick's stubbornness was calm, quiet, almost heavy. Diane's was creative, sharp, steady.
The barista slid two cups toward Rick.
"Here's your order."
Diane, thinking her coffee was included, reached out her hand.
Rick looked down at her hand… then up at her… then back at the coffee… with the face of someone personally offended by reality itself. "They're mine", he said slowly. "Wait for yours."
Diane blinked.
Her coffee arrived moments later.
They did not break eye contact. Not even once.
Two people sipping coffee like it was a duel.
Finally, Rick exhaled, letting the stubborn stare fade.
"Okay, Diane," he said simply, turning away as if the conversation was done.
He walked out of the café.
Diane froze.
Diane.
He said her name. But she had never introduced herself.
Her brain clicked like a switchblade.
Wait...how does he know my name?
She hurried to pay for her coffee and rushed toward the door, her steps quicker than her heartbeat. She pushed the door open and looked straight ahead, expecting to see him walking off.
But he wasn't there.
Her eyes only saw a silent, empty walkway.
Then she heard it.
Slurp.
Not a normal sip.
A violent, borderline criminal sip of coffee.
Like someone was fighting for their life with caffeine.
She turned.
Rick was sitting on a low stone ledge just outside the café.
He sat as if he had always belonged in that exact spot—one leg bent, elbow resting loosely, the wind shifting the stray strands of his dark hair. Calm. Composed. Annoyingly aesthetically tragic.
Diane blinked, paused to mentally recalibrate, then walked toward him.
She stopped right in front of him, chin tilted the slightest bit, the way she always did when someone gets on her nerves.
Rick didn't look up. He just kept sipping his coffee. Slowly. Dramatically. As if the cup had wronged him in another life.
The sound irritated her.
So she dragged her shoe across the ground — deliberately loud.
Rick paused mid-sip.
He blinked once.
"What?"
Diane crossed her arms. "How do you know my name?"
She was sure Llewellyn, with his arrogance and impossible stare, would somehow know it — but Rick? The so-called bodyguard? No.
Rick didn't even flinch.
"I vetted you," he said, tone flat, like it was the most normal thing in the world.
She stared at him, stunned. Words fluttered to her tongue but didn't form.
"His boss stalked me and now he vetted me? I don't understand what is going on…," she muttered to herself.
But Rick heard one word. 'Boss.'
"He's not my boss," Rick said, his voice sharp for the first time.
Diane frowned, stubbornness rising again.
"How can you just… look into people's lives like that?"
Rick lifted his cup and drank again, heavy and uncaring.
"It's kind of what I do."
The words were almost the same as when Llewellyn said it to her — except Llewellyn had said it like it was his right.
Rick said it like it was his job, his duty and not pride.
She went quiet, caught off guard by the difference.
Rick glanced at the empty space beside him, then back at her.
"You can sit," he said. "There's still room."
No pressure. No expectation. Just space.
Diane hesitated but sat. Maybe because she was confused. Maybe because she didn't want to walk away.
The wind brushed past them. A quiet moment settled.
"I'm sorry I vetted you," Rick said, voice low and sincere.
Diane looked at him.
She still didn't know whether to stay angry — or let herself soften.
So she said nothing.
And Rick didn't push.
The silence between them was not awkward.
Just… real.
The sun brushed warm light over them, but it didn't sting. They sat in quiet, drinking. Diane sipped her coffee at a normal pace. Rick, meanwhile, was already halfway through his second cup.
She muttered under her breath, "Who drinks two plain coffees in one go?"
Rick didn't look up. "This guy," he answered calmly.
Diane blinked. He heard that?
She cleared her throat, pretending she hadn't been exposed.
The silence settled again, soft but not awkward.
"I'm Rick, by the way," he said. "Not 'bodyguard.' In case you see me again."
Rick. Not bad. Not too much. Just him.
He went back to his coffee.
Diane looked at him and, without thinking, said, "Can I just call you bodyguard?"
Rick stared at her like she was absolutely unhinged.
******
Llewellyn walked Ana to the car and quietly dismissed his driver. The driver hesitated, confused by the sudden order, but bowed and left without question.
Llewellyn opened the door for Ana. She slipped in, and he closed it gently before taking his seat beside her. The car held a soft polished scent of wax, flowers from Ana's perfume, and Llewellyn's calm cologne blending into something warm and familiar.
Ana's heart fluttered. This was the kind of moment she remembered — the first time he kissed her had been just like this. She smiled, a blush creeping over her cheeks.
Llewellyn reached for his seat belt, but her hand rose and cupped his face, guiding him to look at her. He paused, surprised. She leaned closer, eyes half-closed, ready to meet his lips...
But he caught her hand and moved it down slowly.
She froze inches away, her breath trembling.
"You won't even kiss me?" she whispered, voice breaking at the edges.
He didn't meet her eyes. "Let's just get you home," he said softly.
Ana looked at him, completely silent.
Llewellyn started the engine and drove. Ana sat quietly, still simmering from the near-kiss.
His phone buzzed. He glanced down.
A message from Skypower Corp: "Ana's brother will be joining your meeting with your father today."
Llewellyn's jaw tightened. The calm he'd held all day threatened to crack.
He kept his eyes on the road, but inside… a storm was brewing. Every plan, every careful move suddenly felt fragile.
He exhaled slowly, though it did nothing to steady the chaos in his mind. Everything just got more complicated.