Between two shelves packed with books whose dusty spines foretold a slow death, Romy fought off boredom, anxiety, and what was very likely the beginning of a migraine. The fluorescent light flickering overhead blinked just often enough to be noticeable, but not quite enough for her to bother moving.

Her laptop was open to a thirty-seven-page PDF she had been pretending to read for nearly an hour. The words blurred together in her head, the concepts dissolving like stale sugar in lukewarm coffee. Still no news from Ezia.

She had waited. Fifteen minutes at first, in silence, her back sunk into an armchair far too soft for a university library. Then she sent a message. Then another. “Still not done?” she had even typed, in a brief attempt at humor she regretted the moment she hit send.

No reply. Not even a little “seen.”

Swallowing her pride, Romy typed out a final attempt: “If anything, Double’s tonight.” She placed her phone back on the armrest. The dark screen briefly reflected her tired face, the dark circles deepening, and that all-too-familiar expression: the look of a girl waiting for someone who might not show up.

She sighed.

Around her, the library was silent, as it always was at this time of the afternoon. A handful of students were cramming for exams a few meters away, but no one paid her any attention. She could have disappeared into the cushions of that chair and no one would have noticed until closing time, maybe not even the staff.

She tried once again to read a paragraph, but a strange vibration in her jaw, like a dull echo from deep inside her skull, interrupted her. She frowned. That odd feeling again. A faint hum, as if the world itself had a breath only she could hear. Everything had seemed sharper these past few days. Sounds louder. Lights brighter. Voices clearer, even those whispering two rows down.

She blinked, trying to fight off the migraine rising like an inevitable tide. She knew something wasn’t right. But today, she had decided to pretend. To play the normalcy card.

Just a few hours. Just long enough to forget about the electrodes, the imageless dreams, the chill of the lab, and the piercing blue gaze of Aloys.

Footsteps in the aisle made her look up, hope tightening in her chest like a wire.

But it wasn’t Ezia. Just a random student, passing by without noticing her, earbuds in.

The weight of disappointment, subtle but real, settled on her shoulders. She pulled her knees to her chest, adjusted the blanket she’d swiped from the “relaxation zone,” and tried to get back to her reading. But deep down, she already knew she wouldn’t be able to focus.

So she closed her eyes.

Just a minute. Just enough time to breathe. The book slipped from her knees and landed on the carpet with a soft thud.

And Romy, lulled by the hum of the air conditioning and the amplified rhythm of her own heartbeat in her temples, drifted into a half-sleep, dreamless, imageless, like in the lab.

***

The click of high heels on the floor, a bit too sharp, pulled her from her daze. She opened one eye, then the other. Her whole body protested as she sat up. Had she slept ten minutes? Fifteen? Her legs tingled, and her neck was stiff. She grabbed her phone. Still no message.

Her thoughts spiraled endlessly. Maybe Ezia had ghosted her. Maybe she had a reason. Maybe something was wrong. Maybe... it didn’t matter. She wasn’t going to sit here staring into the void.

She sighed again, louder this time. Romy decided to go test the coffee machine. Maybe caffeine would help her concentrate, or at least distract her from Ezia. She grabbed her phone and wallet, shot a hateful glance at the elevator, and took the four flights of stairs down the library. Might as well work the legs while I’m at it.

Connected to the rest of the building but separated by a glass door, the tables and vending machines were the only spot where students were officially allowed to refuel without endangering rare books (although only officially, because Romy liked to snack while studying).

The place was still mostly empty, but her salvation stood between the microwave and the vending machines, packed with equally revolting junk food. She grabbed a paper cup just as someone stepped up beside her to pick a snack, but she was focused on choosing her extra-caffeinated vanilla coffee. The familiar smell hit her nostrils as the machine buzzed to life, and she was relieved that the noise didn’t come with pain.

Romy grabbed her coffee and turned to leave, casting a quick glance at the selection of the person next to her, and saw that nothing had been chosen. The individual had simply been staring at the machine for five minutes. But she understood; between the can of tuna and the cold, rubbery grilled cheese, it was a tough decision.

As she looked away to head on her way, she nearly dropped her precious cup when her brown eyes met a pair of eyes that were far too blue. The person hadn’t been staring at the machine. He had been staring at her.

"Good evening, Miss Reed."

Aloys's voice, strangely deep for someone so lean, froze her on the spot. For the past three days, she had been actively ignoring him, doing everything in her power to avoid running into him by accident, changing her usual hallways to lower the chances as much as possible. And yet, here he was. In front of the vending machines at the humanities library.

He stood before her, as tall as the machine next to him and a full head and a half taller than she was, and Romy, at five foot eight, wasn’t exactly considered short. His eyes were fixed on her with that piercing gaze she found deeply uncomfortable, waiting for an answer. She cleared her throat before speaking.

"Good evening, Mr. Lévesque," she smiled nervously, "I recommend the oatmeal cookies."

With that, she tried to bolt, but Aloys grabbed her arm to stop her, and she nearly spilled her coffee for the second time as his fingers pressed on the bruises Ezia had left. Why did everyone keep grabbing her?

"You never finished the session."

She stared at him, stunned. Romy had imagined seeing him again, maybe having to explain herself, but she hadn’t expected the PhD student to confront her head-on, in a tone that bordered on threatening. Her cheeks burned. She didn’t know whether to feel ashamed or furious.

So she did what she did best: Romy yanked her arm free from Aloys’s grip - incomparably weaker than Ezia’s - and strode quickly toward the glass doors. Her coffee sloshed so violently it spilled over her fingers, but she ignored the burn, gritting her teeth, adrenaline making her forget the pain as she heard Aloys’s footsteps behind her. Pretending not to see him, she kept moving at full speed, determined to lose him in the maze-like corridors.

Unfortunately, Aloys, with his long legs, was keeping pace right on her heels, unwavering. She reached her table, tucked away at the back of the fourth floor, and realized it was too late to retreat. He was there. She was there. No more hiding or running. So she set down her cup, wiped the coffee off her jeans, and finally turned to face the man she’d been cowardly avoiding.

Fine, maybe she had run away even after agreeing to participate in his experiment, but honestly, she was the one missing out, not him ! Hardly a reason to chase her through hallways. But Romy knew the truth: PhD students had little patience and a lot of ego. And there he was, with that same bored expression, as if this game of cat and mouse was as inconvenient as forgetting to take out the trash.

"I'm sorry I bailed. I know it wasn't cool, but it was an emergency," she pleaded. "Keep the money, I don’t want anything in return."

Aloys looked her over for a moment, then finally spoke.

"But the money was already given to you. You even signed the contract, Romy."

She blinked. What money? She didn’t remember getting paid, she would have remembered holding a thousand dollars. Worse, she’d left in her pajamas!

"What are you talking about ?"

He stepped closer, just a few feet between them. Aloys lowered his head to meet her eyes and whispered so softly it sounded almost like a lullaby.

"Yes, Romy. You took the money and left before fulfilling your part of the deal. We have it on video."

But to Romy, the nursery rhyme sounded more like a threat. She understood instantly, and it hit her like a slap in the face; her vocal cords, cut. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. If there really were cameras in the lab, her exit would have looked more than suspicious, panicked and disheveled, papers flying everywhere as she fled.

“Now Romy, either you come and finish your part of the deal, or we’ll have to ask for a refund. You understand, we’d be forced to involve our lawyers.”

Her eyes widened. Aloys had dropped all pretense of subtlety, however thin it had been. How had it escalated this far? Just because she’d walked out in the middle of an experiment? One that had given her side effects, no less? A shiver ran down her spine as she remembered the bolt of pain that had shot through her skull, sharp enough to make her lose consciousness.

No, she refused to go back. But at the same time, she didn’t have a thousand dollars lying around to hand over to just anyone, and there was no way she’d ask her parents for more money. The monthly allowance was set in stone now, her goal was for them to forget about her until she graduated. Maybe one of her older brothers? But knowing them, they’d ask way too many questions. And how would she even justify such a sudden, enormous expense? She needed time to think.

“No way. You didn’t even warn me there’d be side effects.”

His gaze sharpened. For the first time, he looked genuinely interested.

“What kind of side effects?”

She took a step back in response to his growing curiosity, and immediately regretted it. She preferred when his eyes just passed through her.

“Just… usual side effects.”

He seemed more focused now, hanging on her every word. Romy could see his eyebrows narrowing ever so slightly. The lack of information must’ve been driving him crazy, and she decided to improvise, fast.

“Alright, I’ll come,” she relented. “But first, I just need to use the bathroom.”

Aloys straightened up, arms crossed, and Romy took that as a yes. She turned to head toward the restrooms when he called out:

“Your phone.”

Shit. Romy turned back to him and reluctantly handed over her phone. She had wanted to text Ezia for help. He took it, or rather, yanked it, from her hands bitterly. He’s learned from his mistakes. Too bad for him, I’m always evolving.

“If you’re not back in fifteen minutes, I’ll assume you’re not coming back.”

She turned away again, nearly sprinting to the bathrooms, slamming the door behind her. Now, Romy was alone with her thoughts, and she needed to act fast. There was no way she could cough up that kind of money, no way to ask for a loan, and absolutely no way she was going to continue with that experiment that had messed her up so badly.

An idea began to form. One she sincerely hoped she wouldn’t regret as much as the one that had landed her here in the first place.

Romy stepped cautiously out of the bathroom, glancing left and right. No one. Aloys was still standing farther off near her things. Too bad, she had five minutes left. She made her way toward the elevators. There it was, sunk into the wall: her freedom.

Everything happened in seconds.

She yanked the fire alarm, and the siren went off in an instant, so loud it made her scream, pressing her palms over her ears. Then, as students and staff began streaming toward the stairs, Romy slipped into the crowd, taking the steps down for what felt like the hundredth time that day, shoving people aside when needed.

She burst past the university’s threshold and began to run toward the nearest subway entrance. Her lungs burned from the cold air, her thighs ached, and her pace faltered as she struggled to find a rhythm. A five-minute walk felt like twenty-five.

Panting, she finally made it into the subway, hurtling down the escalator like a cannonball. Luckily, her transit card was in her wallet, tucked safely in her pocket.

It wasn’t until she collapsed onto the hard blue seat of the train that Romy finally caught her breath. The doors closed, and the metro began to move. Instinctively, she had boarded the train that led home, but she couldn’t go back to her apartment. Aloys knew her address, and a chill ran down her spine at the thought of him showing up at her door, flanked by two officers ready to haul her off. Or worse, what if he was already there? Waiting?

If only I still had my phone. I could’ve at least texted Ezia. 

Then, a lightbulb. How could she have forgotten ? She’d already told Ezia to meet her at the Double’s. The message had been sitting there a while, sure, but maybe Ezia would still see it and come.

Worst case? I'd just have a second drink.

Comforted by the hope of her own plan, and the thought of a strong drink, Romy leaned back fully into the plastic seat, a faint smile tugging at her lips. She glanced around the car, empty thanks to the off-hour; too late for commuters already home, too early for students heading out. She would have loved to go to a party. With friends. Maybe with Benji, if he didn’t think she was weird after she bolted.

Her breath caught when her eyes landed on long blond hair, and a pair of eyes barely visible beneath a thick black puffer jacket.

Eyes that weren’t looking away from her.