Later that night, the house was quiet — too quiet. Everyone had gone to bed, lights dimmed except for the small desk lamp in Terrence’s room. He sat at his desk, the watch laid out in front of him like some strange artifact. He had taken it out of his closet a while ago and placed it there as a "display".

It looked... nice. Of course it did. Everything about it screamed money — the sleek dial, the smooth weight of the metal band, the brand etched into the back. It glinted softly under the warm light, too clean, too perfect.

He didn’t put it on. He just kept staring at it.

His foot tapped against the floor, restless.

He didn’t know what made him feel so weird about it. Was it the gift? Or the guy? Or the idea that someone looked at him like that — with that kind of admiration?

He didn’t know what he wanted. He wasn’t into the guy — not really. But the way the guy had looked at him had stirred something. Not attraction, not exactly. Just... curiosity. And maybe a bit of guilt.

Back in D.C., he’d never had to think about this. His world was simple. He flirted, got attention, moved on. People were disposable. But now, things were different. People stuck. And for the first time, he actually appreciated it. The family. Genevieve. Even Augustin, with his protective nature. They were all... there. And that was something he hadn’t realized he needed.

And now this guy — whoever he was — had looked at him like he mattered. That was new. Terrifying. But not unwelcome.

He wasn’t gay. At least, he didn’t think so.

What he did know was:
He wasn’t ready to date.
Not him. Not anyone.
But he was okay with being treated well — even if he wasn’t sure he deserved it.
He was okay with being seen, as long as it didn’t get weird.

He wasn't used to being wanted in that way. Not seriously. Not sincerely. Girls used to flirt with him all the time, yeah, but that was light work. This felt… pointed. Like he was being seen. And not just in the way he liked to be seen.

There was a soft knock at the door.

Terrence jumped slightly. “Yeah?”

It creaked open. Augustin stepped inside, shirt rumpled from sleep, hair messy.

“You’re still up?”

Terrence shrugged, quickly flipping the watch face-down like he was hiding something. “Yeah. Couldn’t sleep.”

Augustin didn’t say anything right away. He glanced at the desk, noticed the watch but didn’t mention it. Instead, he leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed.

“You okay?”

Terrence hesitated, eyes flicking back to the desk. “I’m fine.”

Augustin gave him a look. Not pressing, just... steady. The kind of look that said I see you, even when you don’t want me to.

“I know you can handle yourself,” Augustin said finally. “But… sometimes people get under your skin in ways you don’t expect. Especially when you don’t see it coming.”

Terrence frowned, unsure whether he felt called out or understood.

“Is this about that guy?” Augustin asked, voice quiet now.

“I didn’t ask for anything,” Terrence muttered. “He just... showed up. Gave me something expensive and walked away. Like I’m supposed to know what to do with that.”

Augustin nodded slowly. “You don’t have to do anything. You’re allowed to not know what it means.”

Terrence stayed silent.

After a pause, Augustin stepped further in, just enough to say, “If it starts feeling weird — or too much — just tell me, alright?”

Terrence nodded once. “Thanks.”

As Augustin left, closing the door behind him, Terrence looked back at the watch. He flipped it over again, the face catching the light.

He didn’t know why it made his chest feel tight.

Maybe it was just the gift.

Maybe it was something else.

The afternoon hummed with quiet voices, the clinking of mugs, and soft indie music playing over the café speakers. Genevieve was off grabbing snacks with her friends—they were back, celebrating finishing the project on time—leaving Terrence alone at their usual table, doodling on the edge of a worksheet he wasn’t even pretending to finish.

He felt it before he saw it: that strange tightening in his chest, like some kind of radar going off.

Then, "Hey."

Terrence looked up.

It was him — the admirer.

But this time, no gifts. No letter. No drama. Just a guy in a hoodie and jeans, shifting nervously from foot to foot, tray in hand, like he didn’t know if he was welcome.

Terrence kept his face blank. “You gonna stand there, or sit?”

The guy blinked. “Uh—sit. Yeah. Thanks.”

He slid into the booth across from him. Neither of them spoke for a second. It wasn’t tense, exactly — more like unpracticed silence. Terrence tapped his pen against the table. The guy watched his own coffee steam rise like it might offer answers.

Finally, Terrence sighed and leaned back.

“You know you kinda freaked me out, right?”

The guy winced. “Yeah. I figured.”

“I didn’t know you. Then you wrote some weird poetic note like we were in a drama class... and gave me a watch I can’t afford even if I sold my soul.” He paused, then added dryly, “Well, my parents could probably afford it, but they’re not around right now.” 

The guy nodded, his voice a little hesitant. “I know. I wasn’t trying to make it weird or anything. At first, I’ll admit, I kind of judged you like everyone else. But... I started watching you, and over time, I noticed something different. You changed in a way that... well, I liked it. A lot. And, um... I guess I just wanted to do something nice for you. I don’t know... was that too much?”

Terrence tilted his head, confused. “That’s it?”

“Pretty much. You tried to fit in, but somehow ended up being... better than the rest of us. I guess I just got a little carried away.”

Another beat. The silence settled between them, but it didn’t feel uncomfortable. Just... heavy, in a way that felt almost natural.

Terrence watched him for a long moment. Then, quietly, he asked, “You like me?”

The guy flushed, his voice soft but honest. “I did. Still kind of do. But it’s not... I’m not expecting anything.”

Terrence didn’t look away. “You know I'm straight, right?”

“I figured.”

“And I’m not dating anyone. Not even thinking about it. Not you, not anyone.”

“That’s okay,” the guy said quickly. “I just didn’t want you to think I was trying to trap you or anything.”

Terrence snorted. “It kinda felt like a trap. That watch made me feel like I owed you something.”

The guy’s eyes widened. “Then I’m sorry. You don’t. I shouldn’t have done that.”

Another silence, but this one felt different—cleaner. Real.

Terrence glanced out the window, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he thought. Then, without looking back, he said, “I’m still not giving it back. It’s a nice watch.”

The guy let out a surprised laugh, small but genuine. “It’s yours.”

A half-smile tugged at Terrence’s lips. “Okay,” he said. “We’re good. Just... don’t expect anything.”

“I won’t.”

“And don’t follow me around or anything. I don’t need a shadow.”

“I won’t do that either.”

Terrence nodded, satisfied. “Cool.”

Genevieve appeared around the corner then, carrying a tray of drinks and pastries. She glanced between them, her eyes flicking back and forth, but said nothing. Instead, she slid into the seat next to theirs, settling in quietly.

The admirer gave her a quiet nod, his gaze lingering for just a second longer than usual. There was a long pause, like he was weighing something in his mind.

“Okay, then,” he said finally, reaching into his pocket. He pulled out a small notepad and scribbled something on it quickly, then slid it across the table toward Terrence.

“Just in case,” he muttered. “If you change your mind. Here’s my number. I’m not expecting anything.”

Terrence blinked, glancing down at the notepad. When he picked it up, his fingers brushed against the guy’s hand. The touch was light but enough to make him pause. It wasn’t the awkwardness that made his chest tighten—it was the way the guy’s hand lingered, like he didn’t want to let go.

Terrence looked up at him, eyes narrowing slightly. “You’re serious?”

The guy smiled, a little awkwardly. “Yeah. I’ll leave it up to you. If you ever wanna... I dunno, talk. Or whatever.”

Terrence stared at the number written on the paper. He didn’t know how to feel about it. It was too soon. He wasn’t ready for any of this. But there was something different in the way the guy wasn’t pushing. He wasn’t asking for anything more than a chance.

“Okay,” Terrence said, finally, his voice quieter than usual. “Thanks. I’ll... keep it in mind.”

The guy nodded, relief washing over his face. He stood up, giving Terrence one last glance. This time, it wasn’t hopeful or expectant. It was just... easy. “Take care.”

“Yeah. You too,” Terrence replied.

The guy turned and walked away, disappearing into the crowd of students. Terrence stayed there for a moment, still holding the notepad. It didn’t feel like confusion anymore, but something else—something strange, like a possibility he hadn’t expected.

Genevieve reappeared, sliding into the chair across from him with a cheerful smile. “What was that all about?”

Terrence looked up, expression blank. “Nothing. Just... someone gave me a phone number. Big whoop.”

Genevieve raised an eyebrow, clearly curious but not wanting to press. “Mmm, sure. It was him, wasn’t it? Just... don’t forget we’ll be here for you, no matter what.”

Terrence shrugged, slipping the notepad into his pocket. “I won’t.”

And for the first time that afternoon, he didn’t feel like the world was closing in. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do with the number, or the guy, or how any of this fit into the mess he was still figuring out. But maybe... maybe it didn’t need to make sense right now.