The collaboration announcement arrives quietly—buried in a faculty email that Juni almost ignores.
A cross-campus project. Limited slots. Mixed disciplines. Art, ethics, policy, design.
Juni rereads the list twice.
Elian's department is involved.
By the time Juni meets Elian that evening, the project has already begun reshaping their schedules. They sit on opposite sides of the table, laptops open, the familiar comfort of working together threaded with something new.
"This is… bigger than I expected," Juni says, scrolling.
Elian nods. "It's structured to look neutral. It isn't."
That answer alone unsettles Juni.
Their first joint meeting happens in a neutral building—glass walls, long tables, people who speak as if they're already late to something important. Juni notices how eyes move when Elian enters. Not admiration. Expectation.
Elian takes a seat without claiming the head of the table.
It doesn't matter.
The discussion bends toward him anyway. Suggestions get repeated when Elian paraphrases them. Questions pause, waiting for his response.
Juni watches quietly.
This isn't arrogance. Elian isn't pushing. He listens carefully, redirects credit, slows the room when it rushes. Still, authority settles around him like gravity.
"Maybe we structure the visual component as an interpretive layer rather than output," Elian says at one point.
Heads nod.
Juni had said something similar ten minutes earlier.
No one had written it down.
The realization lands sharply—not as betrayal, but as clarity.
After the meeting, they walk together toward the transit hub. Juni's steps are slower than usual.
"You handled that well," Juni says finally.
Elian glances at him. "You think so?"
"I know so."
There's a pause. Juni adds, more carefully, "It's just… different seeing you like that."
Elian doesn't deflect. "Different how?"
"In charge," Juni says. "Even when you don't mean to be."
Elian exhales. "That's what scares me."
Juni studies him. The pride he feels is real—and so is the unease. Loving Elian has always meant understanding the distance between intention and impact.
They reach the platform and stop.
"This project is going to surface things," Juni says.
Elian nods. "Then we face them."
Juni looks at him—steady, thoughtful, already carrying weight he didn't ask for.
Crossing campuses doesn't just merge schedules.
It merges realities.
And Juni knows now: this collaboration will change more than their workload.