Aiden wasn’t the kind of guy people went to for comfort. He was blunt, rough around the edges, quick to cut someone down with a look or a word. But with you, it was different. You were the only place where the sharpness didn’t reach.

This evening, though, he felt off before he even knocked on your door. The weird dream from last night was still clinging to him, making everything feel slightly wrong. He’d brought a romance movie he thought would help take the edge off, but the plan didn’t last.

You were in a different mood—picking films from your shelf and laptop, all in languages he couldn’t understand, no subtitles. He sat there, letting you choose, but the heaviness in his chest stayed. After a while, he just stood, gave you a quick look to say it wasn’t your fault, and walked out.

When he pushed into his own dorm, Nate was there, sitting cross-legged on the bed with his laptop. “Back already?” Nate asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah.” Aiden kicked off his shoes and dropped into the chair.

“That bad?”

“She didn’t do anything wrong,” Aiden said, leaning back. “It’s just… me. My head’s not right today.”

“Still about that dream?”

“Maybe.” He rubbed at his temple. “It’s stuck in my head. Like… it’s not even scary, just wrong. Like the air in the room was too thick.”

Nate set his laptop aside. “You should tell me about it. Sometimes saying it out loud—”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Aiden cut in, voice low but final. “Not tonight.”

Nate studied him for a moment. “Alright. But you’ve been walking around like someone hit pause on you. You look… drained.”

“Yeah,” Aiden said simply. “That’s about right.”

The room went quiet, just the low hum of the heater and the faint sound of voices from the hallway. Nate didn’t push again, and Aiden didn’t explain. Some nights, he figured, the weight just stayed no matter what you did. Tonight was one of those nights.