Chapter 31 Aslan
Aslan
The infirmary always made me nervous.
I sat on the edge of the bed while the nurse clipped the pulse monitor to my finger, her mouth pressed into a thin, thoughtful line. My nose was still bleeding—not pouring, just enough to be annoying—and my knuckles were scraped up, but it was nothing. I’d had worse fights.
“I’m fine,” I said. “Really. Just a couple of scrapes and a bloody nose.”
She didn’t look convinced.
“It’s not the nose I’m worried about,” she said calmly, eyes flicking to the monitor. “It’s your vitals, Aslan. Your heart rate.”
I glanced sideways at Max, suddenly very aware of him standing there, arms crossed, jaw tight. He shifted his weight, like he didn’t know where to put himself, but his eyes never left me.
The nurse noticed and her expression softened—not relieved, just… understanding. Concerned in a quiet, professional way that somehow made it worse.
“I’m going to stop the bleeding,” she said gently. “Sit still for me.”
When she stepped away to grab supplies, the room went quiet.
Max stepped closer.
“You should’ve reported him,” he said.
I let out a short breath. “Nothing happened.”
He looked at me, raising an eyebrow—and I stopped.
“I’m serious,” he said. His intense blue eyes reminded me of Garrett’s, which was unsettling. And though he wasn’t loud, his broad, muscular football frame was imposing in a way people didn’t ignore. “I wanna help. And I know what’s going on. This isn’t okay.”
Yep. I’d heard that before…
He leaned in, lowering his voice. “Unless we stand up for ourselves, those assholes will get away with murder.”
I swallowed.
James shifted in his chair but didn’t interrupt.
“They always get away with it,” I said finally. “They’re founders.”
Max scoffed, sharp but not cruel. “That doesn’t mean they get to hurt people.”
I shrugged. “It kind of does.”
He shook his head. “No. It means the school protects them. Their families are a different story.”
That got my attention.
“Their reputation matters way more to them than it does to any of us,” he went on. “The school might look the other way, but their parents won’t. Not if they think it makes them look bad. You report Garrett, the school might stall—but the families?” He paused. “They’d act. For their own sake.”
I stared at the wall.
“You need to report him,” Max repeated.
The nurse came back then, pressing gauze under my nose, but I barely felt it.
Something twisted in my chest—and not the bad kind.
It felt… strange. Unsettling. Almost comforting, knowing that someone cared.
That Max cared. That Aitor had intervened. That James hadn’t left my side since the hallway.
I wasn’t used to that. People stepping in. People staying.
But reporting Garrett? That was different.
I shook my head slowly. “I’m not a rat.”
Max opened his mouth, then stopped himself. He lowered his voice instead. “This isn’t about being a snitch. It’s about not letting someone keep hurting you.”
“That’ll just make it worse,” I said. And I meant it.
Because it would.
Garrett didn’t lose. He retaliated. He escalated.
And deeper than that—deeper than logic—there was something else I didn’t want to name.
What we had was between us. Twisted. Toxic. Ugly.
But ours.
I didn’t want a committee in it. I didn’t want reports and meetings and adults stepping in where they didn’t belong. I didn’t want to turn it into something public, something clean and explainable.
Because it wasn’t.
And because—God help me—I wasn’t sure I wanted it to stop.
Max watched my face carefully, like he was putting the pieces together whether I gave them to him or not. His expression softened, just a fraction.
“You deserve much better, Aslan,” he said quietly.
I met his eyes then.
There was something there. Not pity. Not pressure.
Interest?
That was the last thing I needed. More attention… an extra complication.
It scared the hell out of me.
“I know,” I said, even though I wasn’t sure I believed it.
The nurse stepped back, satisfied with my nose, but still watching the monitor.
“Your heart rate’s coming down,” she said. “I’m going to keep you here a few more minutes.”
“I’ll be okay now. Please—go to class. And thank you.” I looked at the both of them with a small smile.
Max nodded. “Okay, man. But think about what I said.”
“I will.”
James finally spoke. “You okay, bro? I’m supposed to go to a family dinner tonight, but I’d rather stay with you, in case—”
I shook my head. “Absolutely not. Please go home. I’m fine, dude. Really.”
He hesitated, then nodded. “Okay. I’ll call you later then.”
I leaned back against the bed, closed my eyes for a second, and let myself breathe.
Everyone wanted to protect me.
The problem was—
I didn’t know how to protect myself from the part of me that didn’t want to be saved.
The rest of the day, I kept to myself.
I avoided people between classes, took the long way around campus, didn’t stop to explain anything to anyone. At the library, they suggested I take the shift off, but I didn’t. I was fine. There was no point in sitting alone in my dorm, replaying the day in my head.
I needed the distraction.
That evening’s rehearsal with Aitor helped.
It always did.
He apologized the second we sat down, pulling the program up on his phone and frowning when he saw the schedule. We were a little behind—nothing dramatic, but enough that he decided we’d rehearse pretty much every day from now on.
I didn’t mind. At all.
“How are you doing?” he asked quietly, tuning his violin.
“I’m totally fine,” I said. “And… thank you. For stepping in.”
He hesitated. “I don’t know what’s going on with Garrett,” he admitted. “I should’ve—”
“You don’t have to apologize for him,” I cut in. “Garrett will always be Garrett. That’s not on you.” I meant it. “Thank you for having my back.”
That seemed to ease something in him.
We rehearsed. And just like always, his company was grounding. His music soothed something inside me that nothing else quite reached. For a while, my breathing evened out. My thoughts slowed.
But when we finished, exhaustion hit hard.
As I walked back to my room, my mind betrayed me.
It went right back to the hallway. To the fight. To the moment our eyes locked.
There had been a second—just one—where everything shifted. Where the rage cracked open into something else entirely. Where, if Aitor hadn’t shown up, I would’ve sworn Garrett was about to kiss me.
I hadn’t told anyone that. I didn’t even want to think about it, but I’d felt it. Clear as day.
And I was sure—absolutely sure—that Garrett had felt it too.
I didn’t know what would’ve happened if we’d been left alone. I didn’t wanna know.
All I knew was that the thought wouldn’t let go.
My body still carried it when I reached my room, pulse too aware, nerves still humming. I shut the door behind me and leaned my forehead against it, trying—failing—to put him out of my head.
I hadn’t had a room to myself in a while, so I took a deep breath, letting the darkness settle around me for once.
Then—
A faint sound.
A sudden presence behind me.
Before I could make sense of anything, the air was punched from my lungs as I was slammed to the ground—arms locking around my waist, crushing tight.
“So,” a voice murmured against my ear, “ready to finish what we started?”