Dom moved down the corridor with unhurried steps, the soft voice from his headphones murmuring another professor's lecture. His pace was slower than usual, his gaze distant, unfocused. The world around him blurred into background noise.
He was still caught in the lingering haze of last night's conversation with Carl — every word replaying in his mind, pulling him deeper into thought.
***
"I'm not playing," Dom said quietly, moving toward his bed. His voice carried more weight than volume — the kind that settled heavy in the air. He looked more weary than angry, but the edge in his tone was unmistakable.
Carl's expression shifted. The casual ease he wore a moment ago faded, replaced by a shadow of something darker.
"What do you mean you're not playing?" he asked, his voice low, almost testing. The air between them thickened, and for a moment, Dom could feel the tension settle — like a storm waiting for its cue.
"Did you forget the agreement?" Dom's voice cut through the air, his gaze locking sharply onto Carl's.
"A week. That was the deal — and I'm not changing it."
He turned away, gathering his things with deliberate calm, though the tension in his movements betrayed the effort it took to stay composed.
Carl's eyes narrowed. "Could you, for once, stop acting noble and just be normal?" His words carried a faint malice, the kind that came from frustration more than hatred.
Dom's head tilted slightly, the anger in his eyes flickering like a spark behind glass.
"And what are you going to do about it, huh?"
The silence that followed was heavy, the kind that hummed right before things break. For a moment, it seemed like a fight would erupt — two storms poised to collide.
Yet, even as Carl watched him, disbelief flickered across his face. Dom's defiance wasn't something he'd expected.
Dom wasn't the type to snap — not at Carl, at least. He could raise his voice at anyone else, but never him. That was why this moment felt different. For Dom to lose his composure, something — or someone — had pushed him far past his usual line.
Carl's brows eased, the tension in his face softening. "Is it the girl?" he asked, his tone low and steady, carrying that quiet calm that always managed to reach Dom.
Dom's shoulders sank slightly. "I don't want to talk about it," he murmured, turning away. His voice had steadied, but a faint thread of anger still lingered beneath it — not loud, just present enough to be felt rather than heard.
"She rejected you, didn't she?" Carl asked with a faint, knowing smile, his voice easing back into its usual playful rhythm.
Dom hesitated. "She… she just didn't want to give me a chance."
His words came out low, the weight of them dull rather than sharp. A trace of sadness crossed his face, softened by something that looked like exhaustion.
"It was almost like I didn't exist in her eyes."
Carl exhaled softly, half amused, half pitying. "That's harsh. Especially since you're not exactly the type to get rejected. Though…" he added, his grin tilting slightly,
"I've had my share of rejections too — well, not quite." His tone carried that familiar teasing lilt that always bordered on annoying.
Dom's gaze flicked toward him. "You could always try—"
"Nope. I'm no longer interested." Dom cut him off before the thought could finish. The seriousness in his tone left no room for humor.
For a moment, the room fell quiet again, and it became clear — the rejection had sunk deeper than even Dom wanted to admit.
It turned out Dom didn't take well to being ignored. The feeling settled somewhere deep, quiet but sharp — a reminder that silence could wound in ways words never did.
"You've got the looks, the money, and most importantly — the brain," Carl said, glancing down at him with a half-smile that carried more truth than teasing.
Dom didn't respond, only shifted slightly on the bed, the weight of Carl's words lingering between them.
"I may not have your brains," Carl continued, his grin returning, "but I make up for it by capturing attention — especially the kind that matters." His tone slipped back into that familiar goofiness, light but deliberate.
He leaned back on his own bed, shoulders relaxing. "It's not something I was born with," he added. "Sure, I had some charm — but I practiced it. Every bit of it."
The room fell into a calm silence again, their contrasting energies settling — one thoughtful, the other playfully self-assured.
"Heck, even the guy who invented the light bulb failed ninety-nine times before he got it right," Carl said, his grin widening.
He paused, squinting as though reconsidering his own advice. "Now, I'm not saying you should try that many times — that'd just make you look desperate. And, honestly, kind of cringe." His expression twisted in mock disgust.
Dom finally turned to face him, an incredulous look flickering across his face. "Says the guy who supported the one girl I couldn't stand — just so she'd try to get me?"
Carl chuckled, the sound easy and unbothered. The teasing glint in his eyes said it all. For a second, Dom wanted to stay annoyed, but the familiar rhythm of their banter had already begun to erode the sharpness in his mood.
"Okay, that one's on me," Carl admitted, raising his hands in mock surrender.
"But at least I was trying to help you spend some time with the finest girl in class."
Dom's grin returned, sharp and teasing. "And yet, who actually ended up spending time with her, hmm?"
Color rushed to Carl's face almost instantly. "Damn you, Dom," he muttered through clenched teeth.
Dom burst out laughing — loud, unrestrained, the sound filling the room. Carl's curses followed in quick succession, half-angry, half-laughing themselves.
For a moment, the heaviness from earlier vanished, replaced by something light and familiar.
They had completely forgotten it was late. Not that it mattered. The rooms were soundproof — a design choice that seemed almost prophetic. The administration must have known that students like Dom and Carl would exist: loud, restless, and alive with too much energy for silence.
***
Dom blinked, suddenly remembering Carl's presence beside him.
Last night, for reasons still unclear, Carl had insisted on following him to class. Dom hadn't asked why — he'd learned that with Carl, explanations usually came after the chaos. And knowing his friend's strange instincts, something was bound to happen today.
And just as if Carl's quiet foresight had been right, it did.
She's walking this way
Dom froze mid-step, his pulse skipping as his eyes caught the same sapphire gaze from yesterday. The girl moved through the hallway with an effortless grace that made the world around her seem slower, softer. For a moment, it felt like everything — the noise, the chatter, the footsteps — faded into the background.
"Hey, Dom. Why did you suddenly stop?" Carl's voice cut through the silence, confusion clear on his face.
Then his eyes followed Dom's line of sight — and the realization hit him just as quickly as the shock that followed.
Carl's words barely reached him — the world had narrowed to the soft rhythm of her steps and the faint trace of her perfume drifting closer. Even Carl, usually the loudest in any room, faltered for a second before shaking it off.
"Wait, wait, wait... that's her?" he muttered, half in disbelief. But the grin returned soon after. "Alright, so what are you waiting for?"
Dom didn't answer. His eyes refused to move away, tracing her every motion as though she might vanish if he blinked. It wasn't intentional — just instinctive, and maybe a little unsettling.
"Bro, don't play dumb. You know what I mean," Carl pressed, voice tinged with mischief.
But Dom wasn't listening anymore. The air around him seemed heavier, colder — as if yesterday's memories had slipped through some unseen crack in his mind. The conversation , the ignorance , the silence that followed... it all surged back at once.
And then, just like that, his expression hardened. Whatever warmth had lingered vanished.
"Let's go," he said quietly.
He wasn't going to be humiliated a third time. Not again.
The thought cut through Dom's chest like cold steel, steadying his pulse even as his footsteps carried him away. Every fiber of his being told him to stay calm — to keep his distance before the past repeated itself.
"Really?" Carl muttered, his face twisting into a mock frown as he watched Dom's back recede. There was no real disappointment there — only amusement veiled behind that lazy expression.
He didn't follow right away. Instead, Carl folded his arms and waited, curiosity flickering behind his eyes. He wanted to see what would happen when that unpredictable friend of his finally crossed paths with the expressionless beauty who had turned the entire air tense without a single word.
Dom's pace slowed as he drew closer, every step tightening the silence between them.
Then it happened — shoulder brushing against shoulder, brief as a whisper. She didn't flinch. Not even a glance. Just passed him, eyes fixed forward as though he were invisible.
Dom mirrored her indifference, forcing himself not to look back. Yet something in him twisted.
Is she really that cold?
Carl watched from a short distance, his grin fading. Even he, for all his misplaced confidence, knew he wouldn't have stood a chance. There was a wall around her — the kind built from silence rather than arrogance.
But then, as always, Carl chose chaos.
"Hey! Wait up!" he called.
Dom stopped mid-step, his brows knitting. He turned, expecting to see Carl finally catching up — but what he saw instead froze him in disbelief.