Nevan walked through the quiet corridor after class, hands buried in the pockets of his jacket. The air was crisp, the faint hum of voices trailing down the halls like echoes. Most students had already moved on, but he could feel it again — the weight of eyes, the pull of attention he hadn’t wanted and yet couldn’t ignore.

He slowed his steps, glancing over his shoulder.

Airn and Alastor. Of course.

They weren’t hiding. They never did. Their hazel eyes tracked him with that same unsettling precision, scanning, assessing, waiting for any flicker of weakness. Nevan’s pulse quickened just slightly, but he kept his face neutral, his steps steady.

Calm. He reminded himself. Still. Steady.

He remembered the flashbacks from the cafeteria — the cold hands, the lessons he had learned long ago about control, about endurance, about survival. That memory didn’t frighten him; it grounded him. It reminded him he had weathered worse, and he could weather this too.

Nevan paused outside the library, letting the silence envelope him as he exhaled slowly. The door creaked open as someone stepped past him, the echo of footsteps fading. He felt the subtle brush of movement behind him. Not a person walking past.

Airn.

The twin’s presence pressed into his space without touching him. He could feel the heat, the awareness, the subtle dominance radiating off the boy. Nevan didn’t flinch. He didn’t move. He simply lifted his head and met those piercing hazel eyes with his own green gaze, calm, unwavering.

Airn’s smirk faltered, just for a heartbeat. It wasn’t supposed to happen — he wasn’t supposed to be able to hold Nevan’s attention like that, not without words, not without force.

Alastor stepped up beside his brother, silent, observing. His gaze was quieter, calculated, but just as intense. Airn didn’t need the reassurance. He could feel Alastor’s approval even in the tension, a silent acknowledgment of the hunt they were both part of.

“You walk fast,” Airn murmured, low, just enough for Nevan to hear. “Trying to get away from us?”

Nevan shook his head gently. “No. Just… heading to the library.” His voice was soft, even, neutral.

Airn’s eyes narrowed. “Careful. You never know what you might step into.”

Nevan didn’t respond. He simply turned the handle, pushing the library door open, and stepped inside. He could feel the twins’ gaze lingering, burning into his back, even as the door closed behind him.

The library was quiet, rows of books stretching into shadowed corners. Nevan exhaled slowly, letting the calm wash over him again. He found a secluded table near the window, placed his bag down, and began to pull out his notebook.

He tried to focus on the words, the numbers, the neat lines he always wrote in, but he couldn’t fully erase the lingering heat of their attention.

They’re watching me.

He knew it. He could feel it in his chest, in the way his heartbeat pulsed slightly faster. And yet, there was no fear. Only awareness. Only the strange, flickering curiosity that had been gnawing at him since the first hallway encounter.

He glanced out the window at the branches swaying in the wind, the small birds hopping from branch to branch. There was something soothing in their carelessness, their freedom. Something he wished he could feel — not fear, not tension, not the weight of the twins’ eyes — just simple, unmeasured life.

A faint sound of footsteps echoed from the library entrance. Not many students came this far into the quiet study rooms. He looked up — and froze slightly, not from fear, but from recognition.

Theo.

The warmth of familiarity filled him briefly, grounding him in a way Airn and Alastor’s presence never could. Theo’s dark brown hair fell into his eyes, messy and endearing, and his easy smile reminded Nevan that life could have softness even here.

“Mind if I join you?” Theo asked, voice low so it wouldn’t carry.

Nevan shook his head. “Of course not.”

As Theo settled across from him, pulling out his own notebook, Nevan allowed himself a small, private smile. The library, the quiet, the soft presence of his first friend — for a moment, he could almost pretend the twins weren’t out there, circling, watching, waiting.

But deep down, Nevan knew better.

They were patient.
They were relentless.
And nothing about Airn and Alastor would let them give up so easily.

Even if Nevan stayed calm, even if he endured, the game had already begun.

And somehow, for the first time, he wondered what it would feel like if he didn’t just endure.

The late afternoon sun slanted through the library windows, painting golden streaks across Nevan’s notebook. He packed up slowly, letting himself savor the brief moments of quiet before heading back to the dorms. Theo waved goodbye, promising to meet him tomorrow for study, and Nevan smiled softly. For a fleeting instant, it felt like the world could be gentle.

But it never lasted.

As he stepped out into the courtyard, he immediately sensed it — the familiar weight of the twins’ attention. His pace didn’t falter; he didn’t flinch. He simply adjusted the strap of his bag and kept walking, green eyes forward, calm, even as the hairs on the back of his neck prickled.

“Leaving so soon, songbird?”

Airn’s voice came from somewhere to his right, low, teasing, edged with a dangerous thrill.

Nevan didn’t look at him. He kept walking, letting the calmness cloak him like armor.

Alastor’s voice followed, soft, quiet, a dangerous whisper that made Nevan’s pulse flicker, but not rise. “You’re predictable, you know. Always calm. Always… unreadable. It’s almost cruel.”

Nevan slowed just enough to tilt his head, meeting their eyes briefly. His expression was serene, unreadable.

Airn stepped closer, blocking his path. The smirk on his face was sharp, predatory. “We’ve been patient all day. All week, even. You make it too easy, songbird… but maybe it’s time for a little… reaction.”

Nevan’s shoulders remained steady. His breathing even. He didn’t look afraid.

Alastor leaned from the other side, eyes glinting, silent, assessing. His presence pressed in almost like a wall, the quiet tension radiating off him.

Airn reached out, brushing a lock of hair from Nevan’s face, just enough to make him tilt his head, but not enough to provoke more than calm curiosity. “See? We don’t have to hurt you… not yet. But you could react. You should react.”

Nevan’s green eyes met his, steady, unwavering. “I’m not going to give you that satisfaction,” he said softly, voice calm, yet firm.

Airn’s jaw tightened. He hadn’t expected that. Not really. Most prey squirmed, cried, begged. Most reacted. But not Nevan. He only endured.

Alastor’s voice, low, teasing, cut through the tension. “You’re quite something, aren’t you? Calm in the middle of chaos. Interesting… frustrating.”

Airn let out a short, sharp laugh, almost a growl. “Frustrating is one way to put it. Infuriating is more accurate.”

Nevan’s lips curved in the faintest smile, almost imperceptible. It wasn’t fear. It wasn’t defiance. It was simply… him. Calm, soft, untouchable — in his own way.

Airn’s hand lingered in the air for a moment before he stepped back, muttering under his breath. “Patience… just a little longer.”

Alastor mirrored his brother, silent but smirking. Their hazel eyes never left him, and Nevan could feel the tension crackling like static in the air.

As he walked away toward the dorms, the twins remained behind, watching him disappear around the corner, silent guardians of a game that had only just begun.

And though Nevan didn’t know it yet, their obsession had already started — a dangerous pull he would soon feel, whether he wanted to or not.

Even calm, even unreadable, even songbird as he was, the twins would not let him remain untouched.

The hunt had begun.