VOICEOVER
Everyone has that one person on campus they see and think: "What the fuck is their secret?" They walk different. Talk different. The air around them smells like confidence and good decisions. You hate them. You want to be them. Jon Onwuachi was that person. Oliver's older brother. Same height as Aaron; six three, broad shoulders, quiet eyes. He didn't try to be cool. He just was. And the worst part; he was actually nice. Genuinely nice. Not the fake nice that people use to get things. The real kind. The kind that makes you feel like shit for being jealous.
THE COMMON ROOM – 4:00 PM
Aaron had found a quiet corner to study. Anatomy. The brachial plexus. A network of nerves that looked like a traffic jam in the shoulder. He'd been staring at the same diagram for twenty minutes.
The common room was mostly empty; a few freshmen playing cards, a girl asleep on a couch, the hum of the vending machine.
Then Jon sat down across from him.
No greeting. No "is this seat taken." Just a quiet presence, like a cat claiming a sunny spot.
Aaron looked up. "Hey."
"Hey." Jon nodded at the textbook. "Brachial plexus?"
"Kill me."
"Wait until you get to the cranial nerves. Those are the real nightmare."
Aaron closed the book. "How do you remember all of this? You're done with med school, right?"
"Done and practicing. Intern year. But I come back to campus sometimes. Keeps me humble." Jon pulled out his phone, scrolled for a second. "You watch anime?"
Aaron blinked. "What?"
"Anime. Japanese cartoons. You watch them?"
"I mean... yeah. Some."
"Which ones?"
Aaron felt like he was being interviewed. "Naruto when I was younger. AOT. Demon Slayer."
Jon's face didn't change. "No JJK?"
"Jujutsu Kaisen? I've seen clips. Haven't committed."
Jon put his phone down. "We need to fix that."
He pulled out his laptop, opened an episode, and set it between them. The intro music started. Gojo's face filled the screen.
"This is the hidden inventory arc," Jon said. "The best one. No spoilers. Just watch."
Aaron watched.
Ten minutes in, he was hooked.
"This is actually fire," he said.
"Told you."
They watched in silence. The freshmen left. The girl on the couch woke up and wandered off. The sun set outside the window.
Mandy walked in.
She was tall, slender, wearing gym shorts and a tank top. Her hair was in a ponytail. She had the kind of body that made people stare and then pretend they weren't staring.
"Jon, I'm heading to the gym," she said. Then she saw Aaron. "Oh. Hi."
"Aaron," Jon said, not looking away from the screen. "This is Mandy. My girlfriend."
"Nice to meet you," Aaron said.
Mandy smiled. It was a small smile; curious, maybe, or amused. "You're Vicky's guy, right?"
"Yeah."
"She's lucky." Mandy's eyes lingered on him for a second too long. Then she turned to Jon. "Don't stay up too late. You have rounds tomorrow."
"I know."
She left. The door swung shut.
Jon still hadn't looked up. "She's great," he said. "I'm going to marry her one day."
Aaron said nothing.
He was thinking about the way Mandy had looked at him. The way her smile had curved. The way she'd said "she's lucky" like she was measuring something.
He pushed the thought away.
Don't be stupid, he told himself. She's your friend's girl.
But the thought stayed.
Like a splinter.
OLIVER'S DORM – 7:00 PM
Peculiar had arrived.
She was Wesley's younger sister; eighteen, fresh out of secondary school, with a confidence that bordered on arrogance. She had Wesley's sharp jaw and her mother's wild energy. Her hair was dyed purple at the tips. She wore ripped jeans and a shirt that said "GIRLS CRY TOO" in glitter letters.
She'd found Oliver in the hallway and decided he was her project.
"Your brother is Jon, right?" she asked, leaning against the wall beside his door.
"Yeah."
"He's hot."
"He's taken."
"I didn't say I wanted him. I said he's hot. There's a difference."
Oliver was too tired to argue. He hadn't slept. His nose was raw from the weekend. His hands were shaking.
"You okay?" Peculiar asked. Her voice had softened.
"Fine."
"You don't look fine."
"I said I'm fine."
She stepped closer. Close enough to smell his cologne. Close enough to see the red in his eyes.
"You know," she said, lowering her voice, "I'm not like the other girls here. I don't play games. If I want something, I take it."
"Is that supposed to impress me?"
"No. It's supposed to warn you."
She smiled; bright, dangerous, young. Then she walked away, her hips swaying, her purple tips bouncing.
Oliver watched her go.
His phone buzzed.
Nelly (7:04 PM): I'm coming over. We need to talk.
He didn't reply.
He just stood there, in the empty hallway, wondering how everything had gotten so fucking complicated.
THE GIRLS' DORM – 8:30 PM
Vicky sat on her bed, scrolling through Aaron's Instagram. He hadn't posted in months. She was looking at old photos; him at a party, him in the library, him with Charlie and Oliver and Wesley. His smile in every photo was the same; warm, distant, like he was posing for a yearbook he didn't care about.
Zuru was in the room. She'd shown up uninvited, which was her specialty.
"Stalking his page again?" Zuru asked, not looking up from her nails.
"I'm not stalking. I'm remembering."
"Same thing."
Vicky put down her phone. "What do you want, Zuru?"
"To apologize. For the party. I shouldn't have said those things."
"You called me a bitch and pulled my hair."
"You pulled mine first."
Vicky laughed; a sharp, bitter sound. "You're not sorry. You're just scared I'll tell the dean about your uncle."
Zuru looked up. Her eyes were cold. "My uncle owns the dean. Try again."
"Then why are you here?"
Zuru stood up. Walked over to Vicky's bed. Sat down beside her.
"Because I'm tired of fighting," Zuru said. "I'm tired of wanting someone who doesn't want me back. I'm tired of being the villain."
"You're not the villain. You're just... desperate."
"And you're not?"
The question hung in the air.
Vicky didn't answer.
Zuru leaned closer. "You think I don't see it? The way you cling to him. The way you panic when he doesn't text back. The way you ignore his stress because you're too busy worrying about losing him. You're not in love, Vicky. You're addicted."
"Fuck you."
"I'm not saying it to be mean. I'm saying it because someone should." Zuru stood up. "I'm withdrawing the complaint. You won't be expelled."
Vicky stared at her. "Why?"
"Because I'm tired. And because..." Zuru paused at the door. "Because even I have limits."
She left.
Vicky sat alone, her phone in her hand, her heart pounding.
She didn't know if she believed Zuru.
She didn't know if she believed anything anymore.
THE DORM HALLWAY – 10:00 PM
Aaron was walking back from the common room when he saw Mandy.
She was alone, leaning against the wall near the stairs, her gym bag at her feet.
"Hey," she said.
"Hey."
"Jon went to bed. Early rounds tomorrow."
"Cool."
She didn't move. Neither did he.
"You're different," she said.
"Different how?"
"I don't know. Quiet. But not shy. Like you're always thinking about something you're not saying."
Aaron shrugged. "Maybe I am."
"What is it?"
He looked at her. The way the light caught her cheekbones. The way her lips parted slightly, waiting.
"Nothing," he said. "Goodnight, Mandy."
He walked past her.
He didn't look back.
But he felt her eyes on him.
All the way down the hall.
VOICEOVER
That's the thing about the beginning of something bad. It never feels bad. It feels like a conversation in a hallway. A glance that lasts too long. A text you shouldn't send. You tell yourself it's nothing. You tell yourself you're in control. You're not. You're never in control. You're just a passenger on a train that's already left the station, and the brakes don't work, and the tracks are on fire, and you're too busy looking out the window to notice.