Chapter 116 Aslan
Aslan
I headed toward the cafeteria mostly because I needed an excuse to keep moving, almost as much as I needed my daily phone call with Aitor.
I held on to both like lifelines in the middle of the chaos.
When his cell didn’t go through, I called the room instead. He picked up after a few rings.
“Hi, baby! I was in the shower. How’s my beautiful angel?”
My heart melted instantly, a goofy smile rising to my lips.
“I’m fine, prince… Of course, I’d be even finer if I’d been with you in that shower… just saying,” I teased.
“Believe me, angel, so would I! Holy shit, I miss you like crazy,” he whispered in that tone of voice that always gave me chills.
We talked about the day, about us, about his rehearsal and my work, all the easy updates… And like the trustworthy, supportive people we were, we also asked each other about the not-so-easy stuff.
“How’s it going with Linnea?”
“How are you dealing with Garr?”
It was almost comical.
The responses were always the same.
“Fine.”
Though I really hoped his use of the word was slightly finer than mine.
“I really miss you,” I said as I heard the others calling him to head out to the club with them. “Have fun tonight.”
“I miss you too, babe. Try to have fun too!” he said as the others began to mock in the background.
“We miss you too, Aslan…!!”
That was my cue to hang up and get back to reality.
As I turned the corner near the cafeteria, I almost ran into Mr. Halt.
He smiled the second he saw me.
“You look like you could use a hot drink,” he said.
I let out a tired laugh. “Something like that.”
He tilted his head slightly, ordering two hot cocoas. “I saw you at the library today with Garrett.”
“You did?”
He smiled. “I didn’t want to interrupt. You both looked… good.”
For a second, I didn’t know what to say. Good. The word sat strangely in my chest because, somehow, it was true. Complicated, terrifying, emotionally exhausting… but yes, somehow, good.
I let out a small breath and nodded. “We were working on my internship project.”
Mr. Halt’s smile widened a little. “I figured. I’m glad to see you two on better terms.”
My fingers tightened slightly around the warm mug. “Yeah,” I said quietly. “Me too.”
He studied me for a moment longer before asking, “Are you both doing okay?”
The question brought everything back, because the honest answer was no. Not really. Garrett was trying. I was trying. But okay? That felt like too generous a word.
I hesitated, and Mr. Halt noticed immediately. His eyes sharpened, his tone gentler now.
“Aslan… is there something new about what we talked about the other day?”
My pulse jumped. I looked down at the cocoa, watching the steam rise while my mind wrestled with itself. I couldn’t say anything that wasn’t mine to say. But I needed to know, just in case his past came back… or mine.
I lifted my eyes slowly. “The other day,” I said carefully, choosing every word, “you mentioned that if someone we knew was going through an… abusive situation… you might be able to help.”
Mr. Halt went very still.
I swallowed. “You said you had contacts.” I took a breath, forcing myself to keep my voice steady. “What kind of contacts were you talking about? How would you help… if the people involved were powerful?”
The second the words left my mouth, I realized I could not have been any more fucking obvious. Still, technically, I hadn’t said a name.
No name. No betrayal. Just a question. Safe. Or at least safe enough.
That was when Mr. Halt’s expression changed. Not shocked—just serious. He leaned back in the chair, studying me for a moment before speaking.
“That depends,” he said quietly. “Are we talking about a situation where someone is being hurt by a person with power?”
I hesitated, and my silence must have answered for me.
For a moment, he said nothing, like he was weighing how much to tell me.
Then he let out a slow breath.
“When I was your age, there was someone on my team.”
That got my full attention.
He looked down at his cocoa, his jaw tightening slightly.
“He wasn’t in a good situation at home. Powerful family. The kind that made things disappear. Bruises, injuries, behavior changes—everyone saw it, but no one wanted to touch it because of who his father was.”
Something in my chest tightened.
Mr. Halt continued, his voice lower now. “One of our former coaches refused to look away. He got the right people involved. An advocacy network in Boston that specialized in protecting abused minors and students in elite institutions.”
He finally looked up at me.
“They got him out.”
I swallowed.
“He’s alive because of them.”
The cafeteria suddenly felt quieter.
“That coach ended up becoming something of a mentor to me,” he said. “When I got older, I started volunteering with some of their youth support programs in the off-season. Crisis counseling, mentorship, relocation support for kids who needed safe housing.”
My pulse picked up. So this wasn’t random. This was personal. Real.
“They work with lawyers, victim advocates, and investigative journalists,” he continued. “Their whole purpose is helping young people who are being controlled, abused, or silenced by people with influence.”
I stared at him. People with influence. Exactly.
“How would they help?”
Mr. Halt leaned forward.
“First, they protect the victim. Quietly. Safely. They help document what’s happening and build a protected record that can’t be buried. Then they connect them with legal and media resources outside whatever institution is compromised.”
The school, the board, the families. All of it. All of it could be bypassed.
Something like hope flickered in my chest.
Mr. Halt’s expression softened. “I’m not asking you for names, Aslan.”
I nodded quickly. “I know.”
“But if someone you care about is in danger, and the people involved are powerful, this is exactly the kind of situation they exist for.”
“How much proof would they need?” I asked with concern, not knowing how much Garrett had.
“The more powerful the institution, the more evidence we should gather.”
Mr. Halt held my gaze for another second. “Sometimes the first step isn’t fighting back unprepared, risking retaliation.” He paused. “Sometimes it’s making sure the victim survives long enough to be heard.”
That line hit hard because Garrett’s greatest fear wasn’t just pain. It was being erased. Buried. Made to disappear by people who had been doing it for years.
I lowered my eyes to my hands, but my thoughts were already racing somewhere else, to another situation, to another monster.
“Mr. Halt…” My voice caught slightly before I pushed through it. “Do they also help people who don’t have much? People who aren’t… elite?” Before I could stop it, my eyes filled with tears I had spent years forcing down.
His expression softened immediately. “Of course, Aslan.” There was no hesitation in his answer, no judgment, just certainty. “Is there a second person you’re worried about?”
The concern in his gaze told me he probably already knew I wasn’t just talking about Garrett anymore. “Maybe…” I admitted quietly.
He gave a small nod, like that was enough for now. “Well, if things get worse for… your friends,” he said carefully, giving me the space not to name anyone, “I want you to reach out. Please.”
I nodded. “I will.”
For a moment, neither of us moved, the warmth of the cocoa and the quiet hum of the cafeteria settling around us. Then I stood, something inside me suddenly feeling sharper, more certain, ready.
“And, Mr. Halt…”
“Yes?”
I met his eyes and gave him a small, knowing smile. “I’m happy that boy made it.”
For a second, his expression changed, something almost proud flickering there. “Me too.”
And somehow that simple exchange meant everything, because it meant people could make it out. People could survive monsters. People could build lives afterward.
Without another word, I turned and headed toward Garrett’s dorm, my steps faster now, my mind already racing ahead.
We had options. Real ones.
Not perfect, not safe, and I knew it was gonna be fucking hard and probably dangerous, but it was something beyond fear and silence.
I needed to tell Garrett. He had trusted me with his secret, with something horrendous, and he needed to know he wasn’t alone in this anymore.
Because if there was even the smallest chance that he could fight this, I’d be damned if I was going to let him do it alone.