Roenan didn’t realize he’d fallen fully asleep until someone shook him awake. He jolted, eyes wide, but relaxed when he saw Drakke standing over him, finger to his lips - signaling for silence.

Drakke sat on the other bed and unzipped a bag at his feet. From it, he pulled a uniform, nearly identical to his own—dark navy with tan-trimmed pockets, a thick tan dress shirt, and glossy black shoes. He set aside matching gloves and a navy military cap before digging out a pair of tan dress socks. Then, he stacked it all neatly and handed it to Roenan.

“This is yours,” he whispered, jostling the bag. “I was supposed to give it to you tomorrow, but go put that on now.” He jestured toward the clothes in Roenan's hands.

Roenan stared. “Wait, am I going to the university’s office now?” Horror crept across his face.

“No, no. Just change,” Drakke said with a grin.

Suspicious, Roenan narrowed his eyes but stood and headed toward the bathroom. The light inside was always on—like the hospital room. After weeks of relentless brightness, he wondered if he’d ever adjust to darkness again. Maybe it was a tactic to disorient him and Saive, keep them from knowing what time it was. Still, he had managed to piece it together somewhat through Drakke's visits and schedule.

He stripped, pausing to look in the mirror, bandages wrapped around his chest. He looked thinner. His muscles had faded, his skin pale—more like a Vernajjian. When he'd spent time outdoors, his complexion had leaned more Jaedan, but it had been over a month since he’d seen real sun. He made a quiet promise to himself to continue to work on getting stronger—though, he had a sinking feeling the inevitable boot camps would take care of that anyway.

Roenan tore his eyes from the mirror, before his appearance could upset him anymore, and began dressing quickly. The fabric felt foreign against his skin—too stiff after weeks in hospital wear. He tied his last shoe and moved to stand in front of the mirror again. His eyebrows rose when he saw himself. He didn't look half bad. The uniform was sharp, and the design made the silver flecks in his eyes stand out. He liked that the Vernajjian uniform emphasized that Jaedan aspect of him.

A large university emblem sat on the jacket’s right breast. The crest, arched like a fan, was split into four segments: the Vernajjian flag rippling in blue, tan, and brown; a pale hand gripping a crowned globe—symbolizing the ruling religion, its single god, and the communist monarchy’s divine right. Roenan wrinkled his nose. The third showed a gray building with a bell tower, likely representing the university itself. The last depicted a caramel-brown eye—common among Vernajjians. The same as Drakke’s. The same color the silver of Roenan's eyes blended into.

He blinked away, grabbing his hospital clothes off the floor, before returning to the room. He set his hospital clothes at the foot of his bed before sitting down on the edge to face Drakke.

“Not bad, Jaeda,” Drakke whispered, nodding in approval. “You’ll blend in better. There are actually cameras in the hall.”

A pause followed as Drakke eyed him up and down.

“So, are you just going to enjoy the show,” Roenan muttered, “or do we have a game plan here?”

Drakke snorted. “Oh, there’s a plan alright. I’m getting you out of here for a few hours. Consider it my many thanks for the tutoring lessons."

Roenan glared, having pinpointed something that didn't sit right—but decided to wait to confront him.

Drakke slung his bag over his shoulder and beckoned for Roenan to follow. They stepped into the bright corridor that stretched both directions. He turned left and walked until they reached another door nearby. Drakke pulled a card from the breast pocket of his jacket, slid it into the scanner, then pressed his finger to the glowing panel. The door clicked open, and swung wide into a dark room.

“Go in,” he said.

Roenan took a step in and froze. “Hold on,” he said. “Don’t turn the light on yet. Close the door the door for a second.”

Drakke raised an eyebrow but complied, shutting the door. They were shrouded in complete darkness.

Roenan took a breath. “It’s been a while since I’ve been in the dark.”

Drakke snorted. “You’re probably the first person I’ve met who’s excited to be in a small, dark room. As for me, I’m turning on the light back on before I have a panic attack.”

He flipped the switch.

The room was small—just big enough for an oval table, six chairs, some filing cabinets, and a whiteboard.

“The staff use this for private meetings. No cameras in here,” Drakke said.

“What about the ones in the hall?” Roenan asked. “You went in alone with two bags and came out with one—and a human in uniform.”

“I like that you’re observant,” Drakke said, sitting down. “But I’m not worried. Word’s already out that you’re starting at the university tomorrow. I’ll say it was an orientation. Plus, not every camera has someone watching. Most just record. No one checks footage unless something happens—like a medic getting murdered with someone’s bare hands. You're lucky they haven't added them in there yet.”

"Saive's lucky." Roenan countered.

He smirked.

“Cut the shit. What happened to your appalling accent and sentence structure?” Roenan demanded.

Drakke's smile widened, revealing his dimples. He laughed and raised his hands in surrender. 

"You caught me," he said. "I figured if we were drinking together, you'd probably find out anyway. I can only put on that act for so long." He leaned forward and began unzipping the bag. Roenan continued to glare at him, expectantly. 

Drakke met his stare and added, "I'm fluent."

"Fuck off…" Roenan shot back, irritated. "Why did you waste my time like that?"

Drakke shrugged, unapologetic. “Come on, you would have been so bored in there and so would I. It gave us both something to do while you recovered and I was on duty. I even stayed an extra hour most days!” He winked as he pulled out a bottle and two glasses. “Also, I was gauging to see if I could land you a teaching or tutoring job at the university.”

Roenan’s anger boiled over. He grabbed Drakke roughly by the collar and yanked him close.

“Gonna hit me?” Drakke asked, unmoving.

“I should!” Roenan shouted, slamming him down into the chair. The noise of the table sliding on the linoleum floor as the back of the chair collided with it echoed loudly in the silent room. "You've pissed me off." 

Roenan took a deep, shaky breath to calm himself, loosening his grip on Drakke's collar. He realized he had become short-tempered and reactive after being cooped up in the hospital room for months. Saive was irritable too, and Roenan believed that was why they often resorted to fighting when the got especially annoyed with one another.

"So, what... you're my personal guard or something?" Roenan asked, as he tried to compose himself. Drakke continued to stare at him, motionlessly. "I already told you. I'm not interested in assisting Vernajja with their cause. You made me an offer, and I took it, but I had something to gain, so we were even. If I end up teaching a bunch of Vernajjian militarists how to speak Jaedan, I deserve to be imprisoned as a traitor when I get back to Jaeda."

Roenan looked down toward the floor, struggling to meet Drakke's gaze any longer. How could this guy deceive him for so long? How had he been so naive to trust him? Saive had been right to warn him not to be fooled so easily. He forced himself to look up anyway, right into those cunning eyes.

“I’m just trying to go with the program here so I can survive this shit and get home. I have no training—I’m not a soldier, I'm just a normal person. I don’t stand a chance here if I don’t go with the motions.” He gritted his teeth. “You can jot down in that stupid little notepad of yours that it’s my full intention to get back to Jaeda. Alive . And with my pride intact.”

They stared at each other. Drakke slowly brought his hands up and gently wrapped them around Roenan’s, which were still clenched in his collar. He moved his fingers up and down patting Roenan's whitened knuckles consolingly.

“I’m sorry, Roenan. I really am. I was just trying to, I don't know... protect you, I guess, from the other kinds of jobs they'd probably sign you up for. Everyone has to have a job while at the university. It's just part of the whole ordeal. But some jobs are much more... unsavory than others..." Drakke swallowed and fell quiet for a moment. "I've already told them that you're good at tutoring and that you'd fit well in the role as a campus tutor. Please, trust me on this.”

Roenan released his grip on Drakke's shirt and straightened up to look down at him.

"To be pretty honest with you, Drakke, I’m not sure I can. I want to believe I can trust someone here enough to help me navigate through this smoothly. But your record of honesty has just proven itself to be pretty fucking awful these past couple of minutes,” he responded, before adding, “And I never asked for your protection.”

“That's something I want to give you by choice, ” Drakke replied instantly. He ran his hand across his face, in exhaustion, and began to straighten his collar out. "Let’s drop this for now and have some drinks. This is supposed to be a good night before you leave.”

Roenan stared down at him for a few more seconds, but Drakke wouldn't meet his eyes. With a sigh, he turned and pulled out the nearest chair, sitting down in it dejectedly. Drakke cleared his throat and reached into his bag again, pulling out a deck of cards.

"I thought we could play a little game." He said with a small smile, shaking the cards out of the box.

Roenan sat slouched in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, sulking as he stared at the whiteboard as if the secret to his escape might be written there. Drakke watched him closely as he shuffled the cards and began to deal them.

"Ah, don't be like that." He said, as he dealt the cards between Roenan's pile and then into his own. Roenan's eyes shot at him angrily before darting back toward the board.

“Fine then. What do you want me to do?” Drakke asked, flashing Roenan a cocky smile as he dealt the last card. “Get down on my knees and beg for your forgiveness? I could do that if you really—"

Before he could finish, Roenan was up, placing his knee between Drakke's thighs on the chair as he bent over him. He grabbed his face in both hands and pulled him into a hard kiss. It all happened so fast that Roenan could still feel the chair rolling back slightly from the momentum.

Drakke made a noise in his throat as he pushed him away. When Roenan didn’t budge and instead returned the shove with a nip at his lip, Drakke let out another sound of frustration. He buckled Roenan’s leg with his knee and shoved him hard in the chest. Roenan hit the floor. Before he could gasp back the breath that escaped him on impact, Drakke was on top of him, pulling him up by his shirt and bringing his fist down hard against his eye.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!” he shouted down at him. They stared at each other for a long, tense moment before Drakke suddenly tossed him back to the floor and tore away, hiding his face. He brought the back of his hand up to press it against his mouth.

Roenan stared dazedly at Drakke's figure, facing away from him, as little black dots flickered in his vision. Drakke's head was lowered and he was breathing hard, frozen where he stood. Ronean could see the backs of his fingers limply floating by his mouth, until they disappeared as he wiped his hand across his lips.

"Shit." Drakke hissed, shifting in place where he stood.

Roenan was loudly struggling for breaths which were coming up short, since having the wind knocked out of him.

“I wanted to test,” he wheezed, “if I could trust you.”

He took another shaky breath and laid his head against the cool floor, closing his eyes. He could feel the heat forming on his swelling cheek. When he opened his eyes again, Drakke still had his back turned.

“I figured... if this doesn’t come back to bite me, maybe you aren't reporting everything I say and do.”

Drakke glanced over his shoulder to look at him. “Is that what this is all about?” He turned away again. “Now I’m the one who’s pissed off.”