Chapter 106 Aslan
Aslan
I stayed busy at the library that morning, or at least I tried to.
The long oak table in front of me was covered in art cataloging files from the internship, open folders, and loose notes spread in neat rows that should have kept my mind occupied for hours. Usually, they did.
Not today.
I stared at a series of Renaissance pieces for what had to be the tenth time, trying to complete restoration notes on a Florentine altarpiece and a Venetian portrait study, but my mind kept drifting. Especially with the Renaissance works.
Something about the bold brushwork, the dramatic use of shadow and light, the kind of emotionally charged tension trapped inside stillness—fascinated Garrett. That was one thing no one suspected we had in common.
I rubbed my temple with a sigh, frustrated with myself and the half-finished notes in front of me.
“Trouble with the masters?”
I looked up.
Mr. Halt stood at the end of the table, a mug of coffee in one hand and that easy, observant expression on his face.
A small smile tugged at my mouth. “Something like that.”
He pulled out the chair across from me and sat down, glancing at the open folders. “Shouldn’t you be halfway to Canada by now with the rest of the academy?”
I gave him a small shrug. “Couldn’t really afford it, and I had this internship work to catch up on.”
His expression softened. “I’m sorry, kid. Must be rough being here mostly on your own.”
Before I could stop myself, the words slipped out.
“Well… Garrett is here too. He’s got it worse.”
Mr. Halt’s brows lifted.
“Right,” he said, nodding. “I heard about the accident. That must be hard on him.”
I looked down at the notes in front of me, my fingers absently tracing the edge of the folder.
“It is.”
The silence lingered for a second before I took the opening.
“Did you ever reconsider requesting a second spot for the wrestling team?” I asked.
That made him pause. He leaned back slightly in the chair and studied me.
“I looked into it, as I promised,” he said slowly. “But what I can’t quite understand is why you came to me with that request in the first place.”
Heat immediately rose to my face.
“I thought you two didn’t exactly see eye to eye,” he added.
I let out a breath, suddenly very aware of how obvious I probably looked.
“Well… not at first.”
Mr. Halt waited.
I looked away, unable to stop the faint flush spreading over my cheeks.
“It’s complicated.”
A knowing smile slowly spread across his face.
“One of those, huh?”
Despite myself, I smiled too.
“Yeah,” I admitted quietly. “One of those.”
His expression softened into something thoughtful.
“I think he deserved that spot too,” he continued.
“He does. I know he acts like he doesn’t care sometimes, but I really think he’s under a lot of pressure. More than what’s normal. More than what should be… acceptable.”
Mr. Halt nodded slowly.
“His family is intense,” he admitted. “I always knew that much.”
I hesitated.
“I think he might be… scared.”
That got his full attention. He rested his mug on the table. “Scared of failing?”
I looked down. “Maybe. Or maybe of more than that.”
Mr. Halt let the silence settle between us before speaking again.
“I’ll see what I can do about the team situation,” he said. “And in the meantime, if either of you needs anything, I’m here.”
Something in my chest eased at that.
“Thank you.”
He hesitated for a second, his expression turning more serious.
“And if you ever find out, there’s something else behind that fear,” he said carefully, “and by that I mean…”
“Abuse?” I prompted.
His jaw tightened.
“Yes,” he said quietly. “Abuse.”
The word hung between us, heavier than anything else that had been said that morning.
“If that’s what this is, I need to know, Aslan. I have some connections, people who know how to deal with things like that.”
Something about the way he said it made me look up. Not curiosity. Concern. Real concern.
He stood, giving me a small nod before walking away, leaving behind the faint smell of coffee and the strange comfort of knowing at least one adult in this place might actually be paying attention.
By lunchtime, the library had stopped helping. No matter how hard I tried to focus, my mind kept circling back to Garrett.
So I gave up and headed to the cafeteria. The place was nearly empty.
The usual noise and chaos of Crownwell had vanished with the buses, leaving behind scattered students, quiet conversations, and far too much empty space.
That was when I saw them.
Olivia and Garrett, already seated at one of the tables.
Good. He was being looked after.
Relief should have been the only thing I felt.
Instead, something sharp and lonely twisted in my chest.
I moved toward a table by myself, tray in hand, suddenly feeling absurdly out of place. For a second, I actually considered just grabbing an apple and leaving.
Then Olivia’s bright voice cut across the room.
“Aslan! What are you doing over there? Come, eat with us!”
I froze. Every instinct in me screamed awkward.
Still, I forced a smile and walked over.
“Hi.”
Garrett looked up at me, his expression unreadable for a split second before it softened.
“Hey, Lion.”
My stomach did something deeply unhelpful at that.
I sat down, trying not to overthink the fact that I was now having lunch with Garrett and his sister as if this were somehow normal.
Thankfully, Olivia was a one-woman conversation machine.
She started asking about Christmas traditions, about whether my mother decorated early, about what people in Maine did for the holidays, throwing in little teasing comments that somehow kept the atmosphere from becoming too tense.
By the time we were halfway through lunch, I had almost relaxed.
Almost.
Then Olivia glanced at her phone.
“Oh,” Olivia said, standing up and checking her phone. “I actually need to run and take care of a few things. Do you think you can take him back, Aslan?”
I blinked.
Garrett immediately rolled his eyes.
“I can take myself, sis. Don’t make it any more awkward.”
She laughed, leaned down to kiss his temple, then looked at me with a smile that felt way too intentional.
“See you both later.”
And just like that, she was gone, leaving the two of us alone.
The silence stretched for a moment, thick and weird and impossible to ignore.
Then Garrett glanced at me.
“So…” I said, trying not to make it even weirder. “Would you like me to take you then?”
The second the words left my mouth, I realized what I had just said and let out a nervous laugh.
He chuckled too, a slow grin pulling at his mouth.
“I can think of a few ways to answer that.”
“Please don’t.” I shook my head, smiling despite myself, suddenly way too aware of the winter light spilling through the windows and that strange pull that always seemed to exist between us no matter how much I tried to fight it.
“I would like you to take me, Lion…” His blue eyes held mine for a beat too long before he added, softer now, “For a short walk, maybe? Exercise the leg a bit?”
“Okay,” I said before my brain had time to catch up and remind me what a bad idea that probably was.
Five minutes later, it was obvious this had been a terrible plan.
Garrett was trying hard not to show it, but the way his shoulders had tightened and the slight hitch in his breathing gave him away.
“You okay?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he muttered. “Slightly in pain and out of breath, but okay.”
I snorted, then guided him toward one of the stone benches facing the courtyard. The winter sun was pale but warm enough to make the cold air feel almost bearable.
He lowered himself onto the bench with a quiet hiss of pain, leaning the crutches against the side.
For a minute, neither of us spoke.
The campus around us was peaceful, the emptiness of the holiday week making everything feel bigger somehow and safer.
Then Garrett looked at me.
“Lion, I think we need to talk.”