Tim hated lying, but lately, it felt like his only remaining survival instinct. All he wanted now was to be trapped within the suffocating four walls of his apartment, safely hidden away from the rest of the world. He stubbornly, almost foolishly, believed he could handle his demons on his own. He didn't need anyone's help, and he certainly didn't want their pity.
Sleep still completely eluded him at night. When the insomnia grew too heavy and dark to bear, he spent his hours drawing in the dim light of a single desk lamp. Only the low, ambient hum of music in his headphones and the rhythmic scratch of a graphite pencil against his sketchbook could bring him any semblance of calm. He drew abstract shapes, sharp corners, and shadows-visual echoes of the chaos inside his mind.
A whole week bled away without Tim stepping a sin,,,,gle foot outside his sanctuary. Ethan and the other club members texted almost every single day, their icons lighting up his screen, but Tim only replied with short, ice-cold messages that left absolutely no room for conversation.
Ethan: The lecturers keep asking about you, Tim. At least attend classes next week, or they won't let you take the midterms. I'm trying to cover for you, but I need you here.
Tim: Don't worry.
The absolute last thing Tim wanted was to go back to the university and face the overwhelming crowds of smiling, clueless people. If he forced himself out in this fragile state, he feared the carefully constructed mask he wore would shatter into pieces right in front of them.
Logan: Remember there's an internal competition tomorrow. It's mandatory. You have to show up or you're off the active roster.
Tim: I remember.
Truthfully, he had thought about quitting the club altogether over the past week. He had already proven at the tryouts that he could easily dominate the range, so a part of his cynical mind felt it was a complete waste of time. Yet, for some strange reason, he couldn't bring himself to type the resignation message. Being part of that team, hearing the deafening cracks of the pistols, gave him a faint flicker of purpose he hadn't felt in a very long time. Deep down, he knew that if he cut this final tie to the outside world, he would never leave his apartment again, and that isolation would destroy his mental state completely.
Thursday arrived, and the atmosphere at the campus shooting range was noticeably tense.
"Is everyone here?" Logan asked, his brow furrowing as he reviewed the digital attendance sheet on his clipboard.
"Everyone except Tim," Al replied, leaning casually against an equipment table while adjusting his wrist wraps.
Logan let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair. "Let's start the heat then. As always, Tim will be marked as the last contestant... if he even shows up."
Willy scoffed from the sidelines, carefully loading match-grade ammunition into his magazine. "I wouldn't hold my breath. Some people only know how to talk big and vanish when real work starts."
Seb chuckled, nudging Willy's rigid shoulder playfully. "You two fight like cats and dogs, seriously. Honestly, man, I'm sure he'll show up just to annoy you. He knows exactly which buttons to press."
The internal competition proceeded with its usual intense rhythm. As expected, the veteran tier, Willy, Seb, Al, and Logan, secured the top scores on the leaderboard, their accuracy unshakeable. The event was nearly drawing to a close when the heavy double doors opened, and the university rector walked into the range, her expression unusually grave.
"Hello, everyone," she greeted, gesturing for the athletes to relax as they began to bow respectfully. "I need a few minutes of your time. There's an urgent matter we need to address regarding our athletic standing."
The entire team turned their full attention to her, sensing the gravity in her voice.
"For those who aren't aware, there's an upcoming national competition where we are required to field two top-tier representatives from our university," the rector explained, her eyes tight. "William and Sebastian were scheduled to anchor our slot. However, Sebastian is currently facing an unexpected, catastrophic visa issue with the hosting country. The bureaucratic timeline is too tight, and if we can't find another qualified participant within the next forty-eight hours, we will be forced to withdraw our entire university bid."
Willy stepped forward, his eyes flashing with sudden anger. "But Madam Rector, this specific competition is incredibly important for our national tier ranking. If we skip it, we lose our seed for the finals."
"Maybe we can pull someone else from the elite tier who already holds a valid international travel clearance?" Seb suggested, his voice laced with frustration at his own bad luck.
"Or maybe the athletic department can file an expedited diplomatic request to bypass the visa queue?" Al offered, leaning over the counter.
The rector shook her head helplessly. "We've exhausted those options. You have until the final registration deadline tomorrow. If you can't produce a qualified replacement by then, I'll have to officially cancel the trip."
Suddenly, the heavy electronic lock of the range door clicked open with a sharp beep. A slender figure stepped into the brightly lit room, his face completely hidden beneath a dark fabric mask and a low-brimmed black baseball cap.
"Hi, guys," Tim's muffled, calm voice echoed through the stunned, quiet room.
Without properly greeting anyone or offering a single word of explanation for his massive lateness, he walked straight past the rector to his designated shooting booth. He expertly checked the chamber of his weapon, lifted it without a single trace of hesitation, and locked his vision onto the distant target.
Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang.
Five perfect, rapid shots. Fifty points, dead center in the bullseye, as if he hadn't spent the last seven days rotting in a dark room.
He lowered the smoking pistol, turned around smoothly, and walked directly toward the rector, pulling his mask down to expose his pale, sharp jawline. "Hello, Madam Rector. Sorry for the unconventional entrance. I heard from the administration that you'd be here today, so I brought my medical and training exemption documents directly to you." He handed over a neat, sealed folder.
The rector smiled warmly, letting out a visible sigh of relief as she accepted the papers. "That's perfectly fine, Tim. Your timing is actually immaculate. I'll personally inform the academic board about your arrangements. Get some proper rest and come back to campus whenever you are able."
"Goodbye," Tim said with a polite nod.
The entire room stared in absolute, paralyzing shock. Nobody could comprehend what had just transpired. How could this guy act so casually, showing up for a grand total of two minutes after dropping off the face of the earth for a week?
Willy's patience snapped entirely. "Wait! Where the hell do you think you're going?"
Tim didn't even bother to turn his head as he cleared his chamber and packed his gear into his bag. "I'm done shooting. Going home."
"The mandatory team meeting isn't over!" Willy shouted, marching across the concrete floor until he was standing directly in front of Tim's booth. "You show up late for a formal competition, and now you just turn around and walk away? If you keep treating this club like your personal playground, you're going to get kicked out. I don't care how well you shoot."
Tim let out a low, mocking chuckle from behind his collar, a sound that poured gasoline onto Willy's boiling anger.
"You can't just bend the rules to suit your whims here, Tim," Willy hissed, his fists clenching at his sides.
Tim finally turned his full gaze onto him, his dark eyes cool, calculated, and dangerously sharp. "The club bylaws clearly state that an elite-tier member only needs to attend the official weekly competitions and maintain their baseline qualification score to retain their active status. Show me the exact paragraph where I broke a rule, Willy. I'll wait."
The room fell into a suffocating, dead silence. Logan and Seb looked at each other, knowing these two couldn't survive in the same breathing space without a fire breaking out.
"Enough, both of you!" the rector interrupted, stepping firmly between the two towering forms. "William, lower your voice. Tim already went through the proper channels and informed the central administration that he wouldn't be able to attend daily lectures or routine training due to extenuating circumstances. He has special administrative clearance signed by the dean."
"That's completely unfair to the rest of the roster!" Willy protested, gesturing sharply toward the other members. "He shows up once a week for ten minutes to take five shots, and that's it? He contributes absolutely nothing to the club's daily operations or maintenance. We don't need dead weight riding on our coattails."
The rector's expression turned deeply solemn, her voice dropping to a warning tone. "Tim is dealing with ongoing, severe health issues, William. That is the confidential reason he cannot be on campus regularly. You will respect that."
Willy froze, the angry words dying instantly in his throat. A sudden, unexpected wave of guilt washed over him. He had sensed that something was terribly off with Tim during the tryouts, the paleness, the subtle tremor, yet instead of holding back, his own competitive pride had pushed him to lash out.
Tim observed the sudden shift in Willy's expression, watching the anger melt into guilt. A sharp, dangerous glint appeared in his dark eyes. He deliberately stepped around the rector, his posture oozing a terrifying new confidence.
"What did you just say, Willy? That I'm doing nothing for the club?" Tim asked, his voice dropping to a dangerous, velvety purr. "I just happened to overhear your little predicament regarding the national stage. I'll gladly replace Seb for the competition."
Tim paused, watching Willy's eyes widen. "But, oh wait... there's just one small issue. I'm not entirely sure my health will allow me to travel under your stressful leadership. But then again, you desperately need one more elite participant to save your precious ranking, right?"
The rector's eyes lit up with instant hope. "Perfect! I'll handle the registration transfer immediately. I completely forgot your regional scores automatically qualify you for the seed, Tim. Weren't you planning to travel toward that sector to visit your family anyway?"
"Yes, I was actually managing some family matters in that area this week," Tim lied smoothly, flashing a brief, flawless smile that looked entirely genuine to the rector. "But I'll do whatever it takes to protect our university's prestige."
Willy opened his mouth to vehemently object, his instincts screaming that this was a trap, but the rector cut him off before a sound could escape. "I'll personally fast-track the paperwork before the deadline today. Excuse me, boys. Excellent work."
The moment the rector's footsteps faded down the corridor, Tim stepped directly into Willy's personal space. He leaned in close, tilting his head until his lips were just inches away from Willy's ear, his breath warm against the older boy's skin.
"I'm really looking forward to this trip," Tim whispered, his voice dripping with dark, playful malice. "I'm so glad you're going to be my travel companion. Oh, and guess what? I could have easily fixed Seb's visa issue with a single phone call this morning because I happen to know the foreign ambassador on a personal name basis. The perks of a toxic family, right? But... I won't. Enjoy being stuck with me for an entire week."
Tim slowly and deliberately placed one hand on Willy's broad shoulder. His fingers didn't just rest there; they slowly traced upward, his fingertips brushing against the sensitive skin of Willy's neck, a dominant, mocking gesture of complete control.
"Maybe I'll even introduce you to my lovely parents while we're out there," Tim murmured, his eyes locking onto Willy's furious, trembling gaze. "Enjoy your precious freedom while you still have it, Captain. Because from now on, I'll be your shadow. I promised I'd stay by your side every single moment, and unlike my family, I always keep my promises."
Willy's jaw clenched so hard the muscles along his face's structural line trembled with pure rage. "Fuck you," he muttered under his breath, his voice dangerously low.
Tim's grin only widened, completely unfazed by the hostility. "I know you want to. You can try if you like, but just so you know, I'm really not into one-night stands."
Willy looked like a bomb ready to detonate. With a violent, sweeping motion, he shoved Tim's hand off his neck, turned brutally on his heel, and stormed out of the room, slamming the heavy reinforced door behind him so hard the thick glass panels rattled in their iron frames.
Tim simply smiled, thoroughly amused, as he watched the door vibrate. The heavy weight that had suffocated him all week in his apartment felt suddenly lighter, replaced by the thrilling rush of the game. He turned back to the rest of the frozen, stunned group.
"Does anyone happen to have Willy's exact academic and training schedule handy?" Tim asked, the picture of pure innocence.
Logan blinked several times, still trying to process the absolute storm that had just passed through the room. "Yeah... yeah, I have the master sheet on my phone. But why the hell do you need his personal schedule?"
Tim calmly slung his tactical bag over his shoulder, adjusting his cap with a flawless smile. "I just want to sort out a few minor logistics with him for the trip. Forgot to ask before he rushed out so emotionally."
"Okay..." Logan sighed, pulling out his device. "I'll air-drop it to you now."
"Thanks a lot, Logan. You're the absolute best," Tim said brightly.
He pulled his dark mask back up over his face, waved a brief, reassuring goodbye to a thoroughly confused and worried Ethan, and walked out into the crisp afternoon air.
And just like that, the promise began to take shape: I'll be with you every single moment.