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The rain starts just as I'm pulling my suitcase out from under my bed.

It's one of those sudden spring storms that rolls over Ardencrest without warning—the sky going dark and heavy, fat droplets slamming against my dorm window with enough force to rattle the glass. I pause, watching the rain streak down in rivulets, and try to ignore the knot of anxiety tightening in my stomach.

Two days. I'm only going to be gone for two days.

Aurora invited me last week—a girls' weekend in the city, shopping and museums and whatever else normal college students do when they're not drowning in coursework. She was so excited when she asked, her  eyes bright with genuine enthusiasm, and I couldn't find a reason to say no that wouldn't sound pathetic. Yeah, Aurora is happy now. Like very happy. These trips used to be once her dream when we were kids. Now, Evander is making sure she has everything she ever dreamt about before meeting him. For that, I respect Evander Laurent a lot. Cause the Aurora now and the Aurora who used to be so careful with money are so different. I'm glad she is happy she deserves every good thing in this world. Everyone does.

I don't want to leave campus because unfamiliar places make me anxious.

I don't want to spend money I don't have on things I don't need.

I don't want to be away from my comfort place.

So I said yes. And now I'm standing in my tiny dorm room on a Friday afternoon, staring at an empty suitcase and trying to figure out how to pack for a trip I'm not sure I actually want to take.

I'm pulling clothes out of my dresser—practical things, comfortable things, the kind of muted, forgettable pieces I always wear—when there's a knock at my door.

Three soft taps. Perfectly spaced. Controlled.

I know who it is before I even open it.

Landon is standing in my doorway looking like he just stepped out of a magazine spread for obscenely wealthy college students. Charcoal slacks that probably cost more than my entire wardrobe, a cream sweater that makes his teal eyes look almost luminous, his dark hair perfectly styled despite the rain I can see on his shoulders.

He's holding two cups of tea.

"Packing?" he asks, even though he can clearly see the suitcase open on my bed.

"How did you know I was leaving today?" I step aside to let him in, already reaching for the cup he's offering me. Honey lavender. Always honey lavender.

"Aurora mentioned it." He sets his own cup on my desk and surveys the room with that unnervingly thorough gaze he sometimes gets—like he's cataloging every detail, every change since the last time he was here. "Two days in the city. Shopping. Museums. Very wholesome."

There's something in his tone I can't quite identify. Not disapproval, exactly. Something... tighter.

"It'll be good for me," I say, more to convince myself than him. "Get off campus for a bit. See something other than libraries and lecture halls."

"Mm." He picks up one of the sweaters I've laid out—a soft gray cardigan I've had since high school—and folds it with surgical precision, his large hands somehow gentle despite their size. "And you're taking the bus?"

"Aurora's car broke down last week, so yeah. The intercity line runs every few hours."

I watch him fold another sweater, then another, his movements methodical and careful. He's done this before—helped me pack when I had to go home for winter break, when I moved into the dorms at the start of semester. But today there's something different about it. Something almost... rigid.

Like he's performing a task that requires intense concentration. Like one wrong move might shatter whatever control he's maintaining.

"Landon." I touch his arm gently. "You okay?"

He goes very still. For just a second, his hands freeze mid-fold, the cream-colored sweater clutched between his fingers.

Then he turns to look at me, and his smile is warm and perfect and doesn't quite reach his eyes.

"Of course, Sunflower. Just making sure you're prepared." He sets the sweater in my suitcase with deliberate care. "The weather's supposed to be unpredictable this weekend. You'll want layers."

I nod, accepting the explanation even though something in my gut tells me there's more he's not saying. But that's the thing about Landon—he's so good at seeming open, at making you feel like you know him completely, that it's easy to ignore the locked doors behind his eyes.

We pack in comfortable silence for a while, him folding my clothes with that same meticulous attention, me organizing my toiletries and trying not to think about how much I'm going to miss him.

Which is ridiculous. It's two days. Forty-eight hours. I've gone longer without seeing him during exam weeks.

But somehow this feels different.

Maybe because I'm leaving campus. Leaving the bubble of Ardencrest where I know all the exits and hiding spots, where Landon is always just a text away.

Maybe because some part of me—the part that still flinches at loud noises and locks doors twice—doesn't want to be that far from my safe person.

"You should bring the blue dress," Landon says suddenly, pulling me out of my spiral.

I blink. "What?"

"The blue one. With the small flowers." He's looking at my closet like he's mentally cataloging every item in it. "Aurora will probably want to take you somewhere nice for dinner. You should have something appropriate."

"I don't really do nice dinners—"

"You do now." He's already moving toward my closet, sliding hangers aside until he finds the dress he's talking about—a soft blue sundress I bought on clearance last summer and have worn exactly once. "This one. It makes your eyes look like warm honey."

The casual intimacy of the observation makes my chest feel tight. He notices things like that. The way certain colors look against my skin. The way I take my tea. The exact brand of pens I prefer for note-taking.

He sees me in a way no one else ever has.

"Okay," I say softly, taking the dress from him. "I'll bring it."

His smile this time is genuine—pleased, like I've just given him a gift instead of agreeing to pack a dress.

I fold it carefully and tuck it into my suitcase, acutely aware of him watching me. Not in a creepy way. Just... attentive. Like he's memorizing this moment, filing it away somewhere in that perfectly organized mind of his.

"What else?" I ask, trying to lighten the strange tension that's settled over the room like humidity before a storm.

"Comfortable shoes. Your anxiety medication—don't forget that." His eyes flick to my nightstand where I keep the prescription bottle I hate admitting I need. "Phone charger. That book you've been reading—the poetry collection. You'll want something familiar if the city gets overwhelming."

He's right. Of course he's right. He knows exactly what I need before I even think to pack it.

I gather the items he mentioned, tucking them into various pockets and corners of my suitcase while he continues to fold and organize with that same careful precision. By the time we're done, my suitcase looks like something out of a magazine—everything perfectly arranged, nothing wrinkled or out of place.

"There." He zips it closed with a sense of finality that makes my stomach drop. "All set."

I should feel relieved. Prepared. Ready for this stupid trip I agreed to.

Instead, I feel like I'm forgetting something crucial. Like there's some essential item I'm leaving behind that I won't realize I need until it's too late.

I'm double-checking my bag for my wallet when Landon moves.

It's not dramatic. He doesn't lunge or grab. He just... steps into my space with that fluid grace he has, closing the distance between us in one smooth motion until I'm backed gently against my desk.

Not trapped. Never trapped—not with Landon.

But definitely contained.

"There's one more thing," he says softly, and his voice has that quality it sometimes gets when we're alone. Intimate. Almost reverent. But bestfriends shouldn't sound like that right? 000"Close your eyes."

"Landon—"

"Trust me, Sunflower."

I do. God help me, I do trust him completely.

So I close my eyes.

I hear the soft rustle of fabric, the barely-there sound of something being removed from his pocket. Then his hand is on my wrist—his massive hand, warm and solid and impossibly gentle as he lifts my arm.

"You can look now."

I open my eyes and see a smartwatch on my wrist.

It's beautiful—sleek and expensive-looking, with a blush pink band that somehow manages to be both delicate and sophisticated. The face is dark now, but I can see my reflection in the glass, distorted and small.

"Landon, I can't—this is too much—"

"It's not." His thumb presses against my pulse point, right where the watch sits against my skin, and the pressure sends heat flooding through my entire body. "It's necessary."

"I have a phone—"

"This is better." He's still holding my wrist, his fingers wrapped around the watch like he's making sure it won't come off. "It tracks your location. Has a panic button tied directly to my phone. If anything happens—anything at all—you just press here—" He guides my finger to a small button on the side of the watch face. "—and I'll know exactly where you are."

The weight of what he's saying should probably concern me. Should set off some alarm bell about boundaries and independence and all those healthy relationship things they teach you in freshman orientation.

But all I feel is safe.

Fiercely, profoundly safe. Because he is Landon, my bestfriend why would he possibly do this than for my safety. If it was Tristan, Lucius and Evander— I would be running to the hills but It's Landon. The calmest and safest among there group.

"You don't have to do this," I say, even as my free hand comes up to touch the watch screen, marveling at how perfectly it fits. "I'm just going to the city for two days."

"I know." His voice drops lower, and there's something in his eyes now—something dark and intense that makes my breath catch. "But humor me, Sunflower. If I don't know exactly where you are, the noise in my head gets... deafening."
Noise? before I can voice it out.

His thumb presses harder against my pulse, and I can feel my heartbeat hammering against his skin.

"I need to know your heart is still beating," he continues, his teal eyes locked on mine with an intensity that makes the rest of the world fade away. "So I don't have to stop someone else's."
My face must've went pale because  he brings back his soft warm teasing smile. "I was just joking, Sunflower." 

The words should scare me. But he is just joking. He always happens to be joking about stuffs like this scaring the shit out of me sometimes.

They don't.

Instead, they settle over me like a blanket—warm and heavy and reassuring. Because Landon would never hurt me. Landon protects me. Landon is the one person in this entire brutal world who sees me as something worth keeping safe.

"Okay," I whisper, my voice barely audible over the rain still hammering against my window. "I'll wear it."

His smile is devastating. Bright and genuine and filled with something that looks almost like relief.

"Thank you." He finally releases my wrist, but his fingers trail along my skin as he pulls away, leaving heat in their wake. "Now I can breathe."

He steps back, giving me space again, and the sudden absence of his proximity feels like a physical loss.

I shake off the feeling and focus on the watch, turning my wrist to catch the light. "It's really beautiful. You didn't have to spend—"

"I wanted to." He's already moving toward my suitcase, checking the zippers like he's making absolutely sure everything is secure. "Besides, it's practical. The city can be dangerous for someone who doesn't know it well. This gives you a direct line to help if you need it."

He's right. Of course he's right. This is just Landon being thoughtful and protective, making sure I have resources if something goes wrong.

Not controlling. Not possessive.

Just caring.

I touch the watch again, feeling the smooth glass under my fingertips, and something warm blooms in my chest.

He really does think of everything.

The bus station is a fifteen-minute walk from campus, and Landon insists on carrying my suitcase the entire way.

The rain has intensified—fat drops that soak through my jacket and plaster my hair to my face despite the umbrella Landon is holding over both of us. He angles it so I'm completely covered while half his shoulder gets drenched, just like he always does.

"You're going to ruin your sweater," I tell him, not for the first time.

"I have others," he replies, also not for the first time.

We walk in comfortable silence, our footsteps splashing through puddles that have formed in the uneven pavement. The campus is mostly empty—everyone either in class or holed up in their dorms avoiding the weather—and it feels like we're the only two people in the world.

I like that feeling. The quiet intimacy of it. Just me and Landon and the rain.

When we reach the station, Aurora is already there, standing under the covered waiting area and scrolling through her phone. She looks up when she hears us approach, her face breaking into a bright smile.

"Hazel! You made it!" She pulls me into a quick hug, then notices Landon and her smile softens. "Hey, Landon. Thanks for walking her over."

"Of course." He sets my suitcase down carefully, making sure it's not in a puddle. "Take care of her."

There's something in his tone that makes Aurora's eyebrows raise slightly, but she just nods. "Always do."

The bus pulls up then—a large intercity coach with rain streaming down its windows. The driver opens the luggage compartment and starts loading bags, and I realize this is it.

I'm actually leaving.

I turn to Landon, suddenly unsure what to say. Thank you for the watch. Thank you for packing with me. Thank you for being the only person who makes me feel like I'm not drowning.

But all that comes out is: "I'll text you when we get there."

"Please do." He reaches out and adjusts my jacket collar, his fingers brushing against my neck in a touch that's probably meant to be casual but feels anything but. "And if you need anything—"

"I'll press the button." I hold up my wrist, showing him the watch.

His smile is soft and genuine and fills me with warmth despite the cold rain. "Good girl."

The words send a shiver down my spine that has nothing to do with the weather.

Aurora is already boarding, calling for me to hurry, and I grab my suitcase and stumble toward the bus, my heart doing something complicated in my chest.

I find a window seat near the middle and press my face against the glass, searching for Landon through the rain-streaked window.

He's exactly where I left him.

Standing on the pavement, perfectly still, his posture flawless despite the downpour that's absolutely soaking him now. His hands are in his pockets, his dark hair plastered to his forehead, rain streaming down his face.

But he doesn't move. Doesn't seek shelter.

He just stands there, watching the bus with an intensity that makes my chest ache.

The engine rumbles to life beneath us, and Aurora drops into the seat beside me, already chattering about the weekend plans—vintage shops in the arts district, a new exhibit at the contemporary museum, this amazing Thai place she wants to try.

But I'm not listening.

I'm watching Landon through the window as the bus pulls away from the curb, watching him stand perfectly still in the rain, watching him watch me leave.

Even as we merge into traffic and the station disappears behind us, I swear I can still see him. Standing there. Waiting.

Like he'll stay there until I come back.

"Earth to Hazel." Aurora waves a hand in front of my face, pulling me out of my thoughts. "You okay? You've been staring out that window for twenty minutes."

"Sorry." I turn to face her, forcing a smile. "Just zoned out."

"Thinking about Landon?" There's something knowing in her tone, something almost... concerned.

"He's my best friend," I say, a little too defensively. "Of course I'm going to miss him."

"He's very protective of you." It's not quite a question, but it's not quite a statement either.

"He cares about me. There's a difference."

Aurora studies me for a moment, her  eyes thoughtful. "You know you can tell me if something's wrong, right? If you ever feel... uncomfortable. Or like something's off."

The suggestion startles a laugh out of me. "With Landon? Never. He's the safest person I know."

"Okay." But she doesn't look entirely convinced. "I just want to make sure you know you have options. Support. If you ever need it."

"I appreciate that." I touch the watch on my wrist, feeling its reassuring weight. "But I'm fine. Really."

And I am.

I'm fine because Landon gave me a way to reach him if I need him. Because even though I'm leaving campus, I'm not really leaving him. Because this watch on my wrist means I'm never truly alone.

That's friendship, isn't it?

Knowing someone cares enough to make sure you're safe. Knowing someone would drop everything if you needed them.

I settle back into my seat and pull out my phone, quickly typing out a message.

Me: On the bus. Thanks again for the watch. And for packing with me. And for being perfect.

His response comes almost immediately.

Landon: Nothing about this is perfect, Sunflower. But I'm trying. Text me when you arrive. And if anything—ANYTHING—feels wrong, you press that button. Promise me.

Me: I promise.

Landon: Good. Enjoy your weekend. You deserve beautiful things.

I screenshot the message and save it, feeling warmth spread through my chest.

Aurora has pulled out her phone and texting someone with a grin on her face. Must be Evander arguing, that he can join tus and all.  I let myself get pulled into the conversation with Aurora. We spend the next hour planning our itinerary, arguing good-naturedly about whether vintage shopping or museum-going should come first, making lists of restaurants to try. About how Evander was practically pouting to her going alone to a trip without him.

And every so often, I touch the watch on my wrist.

Just to make sure it's still there.

Just to remind myself that even though I'm miles from campus, I'm still connected to the one person who makes me feel safe.

I don't know I'm wearing a leash.

I think I'm wearing safety.