Lucian didn't tell Sebastian what Victor had said.

On the drive home, he watched the streets pass and wondered how many of their ordinary moments Sebastian had planned.

The flowers. The sandwiches. The room prepared before Lucian arrived.

The box of photographs.

Sebastian glanced over. “You're quiet.”

“I'm allowed to be quiet.”

“Of course.”

“Stop agreeing with me.”

Sebastian sighed. “That's a difficult set of instructions.”

Lucian almost smiled. Then Victor's words returned, and the smile disappeared.

At home he asked whether Sebastian had known about his mother's plan to send him there.

“Margaret mentioned it before Evelyn called you,” Sebastian answered.

“And you agreed immediately?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I wanted you there.”

Lucian folded his arms. “Did you want me there so you could make me fall for you?”

Sebastian went still. “Is that what you think?”

“I don't know what to think.”

“I didn't arrange the accident at your apartment. I didn't ask our mothers to send you.”

“But you were happy about it.”

“Yes.” Sebastian's voice softened. “I was.”

Lucian looked away. He hated that honesty made things harder.

“I need some space.”

Sebastian nodded once. “Take what you need.”

Lucian packed a bag for the dormitory, expecting an argument. Sebastian only carried the bag to the door and reminded him to take his charger.

“You're not going to stop me?” Lucian asked.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because loving someone doesn't give you the right to keep them somewhere they don't want to be.”

The word loving hung between them.

Lucian stared at him. Sebastian looked as if he'd said too much, but he didn't take it back.

At the dorm, Nolan opened the door and took one look at the suitcase.

“Oh, this is serious.”

“Don't start.”

“Did you two fight?”

“Maybe.”

“Did somebody say something stupid?”

Lucian dropped onto the bed. “Several people.”

Nolan sat beside him. “Do you want advice or snacks?”

“Snacks.”

Nolan handed him crackers. Ten minutes later, Lucian asked for advice anyway.

“What if somebody has liked you for a long time?”

“Congratulations?”

“What if they've been waiting for you?”

“Did they tell you?”

“Not exactly.”

“Then ask them.”

Lucian groaned into his pillow. Nolan patted his shoulder with infuriating sympathy.

The first night, Lucian slept badly. The dorm radiator clicked every fifteen minutes. Somebody down the hall played music until two.

At three, he reached across the mattress for a warm body that wasn't there.

He sat up, horrified with himself.

“Absolutely not,” he whispered to the empty room.

In the morning he ordered two coffees at the campus café.

The barista placed both cups on the counter. Lucian stared at the second one, made exactly how Sebastian liked it.

“Friend coming?” the barista asked.

“No,” Lucian said. “Apparently my brain has been replaced.”

He gave the extra coffee to Nolan, who declared it the best evidence of lovesickness he'd ever seen.

“I'm not lovesick,” Lucian insisted.

“You bought coffee for a man who's not here.”

“I was being efficient.”

“You hate efficiency.”

That afternoon Lucian opened his sketchbook and discovered that every figure he'd drawn in the last week had Sebastian's shoulders.

He tore out one page, then stopped. The drawing was good. Worse, it was affectionate.

He kept it.

Sebastian sent one message at seven: Hope your critique went well. Remember to eat something besides crackers.

Lucian typed three replies, deleted them all, and finally sent: I ate a sandwich.

Sebastian answered: Proud of you.

Lucian smiled at his phone for an embarrassing length of time.

The next day, he called his mother.

Evelyn answered from a bright gallery office overseas. “Sweetheart! How's living with Sebastian?”

“Complicated.”

“That's a new word for it.”

“Did you send me there because you wanted us together?”

Evelyn put down her pen. “I sent you because your apartment needed repairs and I trusted him. Margaret and I may have hoped you'd stop arguing long enough to become friends.”

“Just friends?”

“Anything more would have to be your choice.”

Lucian traced a loose thread on his sleeve. “Did you know he liked me?”

“I suspected. But I don't know what he feels now. You should ask him.”

“Everybody keeps telling me that.”

“Maybe everybody has a point.”

After the call, Lucian walked past a bakery window and saw strawberry tarts. He bought two before remembering Sebastian wasn't beside him.

He ate one on a bench and carried the other back to the dorm.

Nolan looked at the box. “Let me guess. His favorite?”

“Shut up.”

“You miss him.”

Lucian stared at the tart. “I miss arguing with him.”

“That's one way to describe it.”

“I miss how he knows when I'm pretending not to be upset.”

Nolan waited.

“I miss his stupid face,” Lucian finished miserably.

“Very poetic.”

On the third afternoon, Nolan dragged Lucian to the student recreation center, insisting that exercise would help clear his head.

Lucian lasted nine minutes on a treadmill before declaring it a medieval torture device.

“You used to enjoy this place,” Nolan said.

“I enjoyed the smoothie bar.”

They sat outside with fruit drinks. Students crossed the quad in jackets, laughing as autumn leaves blew across the paths.

Nolan asked, “What actually scares you about Sebastian liking you?”

Lucian picked at the paper wrapper on his straw.

“What if he knows me better than I know myself? What if I say yes and then disappoint him?”

“That's not a reason to run away.”

“It's an excellent reason.”

“No. It's a reason to talk.”

Lucian watched a couple walking hand in hand. Neither looked particularly impressive. They were just two people choosing the same direction.

“Sometimes I think he only sees the kid I used to be,” Lucian admitted.

“Then tell him who you are now.”

“And if he doesn't like that person?”

“Then you'll have an answer. But you won't get one by hiding in my room and stealing my crackers.”

Lucian handed back the nearly empty packet.

“Your crackers are terrible anyway.”

“Then stop eating them.”

They sat quietly for a while. Lucian realized Nolan wasn't trying to push him toward Sebastian. He was pushing him toward honesty.

Back at the dorm, Lucian opened his sketchbook to a blank page and wrote three questions: Do you trust me? Do you want me? Can we be equals?

He stared at the questions until the words stopped looking frightening. Then he closed the book and reached for his coat.

That evening, Lucian finally admitted the truth to himself: he wanted Sebastian, not because Sebastian had arranged anything, but because life felt smaller without him.

Before leaving, Lucian called Sebastian. The call rang twice, and he panicked and hung up.

A moment later, his phone lit up.

Sebastian: Everything okay?

Lucian: Yes. Wrong button.

Sebastian: You can call me anytime.

Lucian read the message again. He almost typed I miss you. Instead, he wrote: Is your back better?

Sebastian: Much. Thank you for asking.

Lucian took a long breath. He was tired of communicating in fragments. He wanted to stand in front of Sebastian and say the whole truth, even if his voice shook.

He went home carrying the untouched tart.

The porch light was on. Through the window he saw Sebastian standing in the entrance hall.

A striking, dark-haired man stepped forward and embraced him warmly.

Sebastian returned the hug.

Lucian stopped on the walkway, his heart sinking before he knew why.