KEIFER'S POV — WHEN PLANS FADE QUIETLY
The plan didn't end.
It just… stopped mattering.
That was the part that scared me.
I'd expected guilt. Conflict. Some dramatic moment where I'd have to choose between revenge and something softer. Instead, it dissolved quietly—like fog lifting without me noticing when the sun came up.
The realization didn't arrive all at once. It came in fragments.
Shared lunches where Jay sat too close without thinking.
Arguments that ended in laughter instead of distance.
Moments when I caught her watching me—not guarded, not suspicious—but open.
Like she trusted me.
That was the first crack.
Trust is dangerous when you've built your entire life on contingency plans and exit routes.
By the second week after the hospital, Jay was back in school.
Not fully healed—she moved slower, winced when she forgot herself—but stubborn enough to pretend she was fine. Bruises still marked her arms, faint shadows under her eyes reminding anyone who looked too closely that she'd been broken recently.
Section E noticed everything.
They didn't ease up on her. If anything, they closed ranks tighter.
Cin walked her to class every morning like a trained bodyguard, one hand hovering near her elbow whenever the hallway got crowded. Felix stole her bag constantly, not out of malice but because it forced her to sit while Rory retrieved it and David scolded Felix for being an idiot. Edrix watched her like the world was a puzzle he refused to miscalculate—counting steps, exits, patterns.
They hovered.
And me?
I stayed close.
Not obvious. Not possessive. I didn't stand too near, didn't insert myself into every moment. I didn't touch her unless she asked. Didn't hover unless she swayed. Didn't push unless someone else did first.
But I was always there.
Somewhere in the noise, the original plan—the ugly, carefully engineered thing I'd built out of hatred for Aries—started to feel distant.
Like it belonged to a version of me I didn't recognize anymore.
Jay laughed too easily now.
She joked too freely.
She existed loudly, brightly, unapologetically.
There wasn't space for revenge in that kind of life.
And every time she smiled at me like she knew something I didn't—like she saw past the armor I wore without even trying—
I forgot what I was supposed to be doing.
---
JAY'S POV — WHEN HE BECOMES NORMAL
If you asked me when it happened, I wouldn't be able to tell you.
There wasn't a single moment where the ground shifted under my feet. No dramatic confession to myself. No lightning bolt realization.
It was quieter than that.
Maybe it was the day Keifer stole my fries and blamed Cin with such conviction that Cin actually apologized.
Maybe it was when he waited outside my classroom because my stitches were pulling and I didn't want to admit I was tired.
Or maybe—
It was the way he never once mentioned the knife.
Not to remind me.
Not to guilt me.
Not to claim ownership over my scar.
He didn't treat my injury like a debt. Or a warning. Or a story he deserved credit for.
He treated me like I was still just… Jay.
Like I hadn't been almost taken away.
And that did something dangerous.
The month passed fast.
Classes blurred into each other. Exams came and went. Teachers droned on about deadlines that suddenly felt insignificant. Section E stayed loud, chaotic, relentless in their presence.
They argued constantly. Over music. Over food. Over who got shotgun.
They laughed harder than necessary. They shoved each other around. They surrounded me in ways that made me forget how close I'd come to not being here at all.
But something else shifted too.
Yuri.
I noticed it slowly.
At first, it was nothing—just Yuri being Yuri. Quiet. Observant. Thoughtful.
Then he started sitting closer.
Then he offered me his jacket even though the weather barely justified it.
Then he remembered things.
Small things.
The way I liked my coffee without sugar.
The song I hummed when I was nervous.
The fact that I hated walking through silent hallways alone.
Yuri had always been kind.
But now he was… attentive.
Intentional.
And Keifer noticed.
I could feel it—not in anything he said, but in everything he didn't.
The way his jaw tightened when Yuri laughed a little too hard at my jokes. The way his eyes followed us when Yuri walked me to class instead of him. The way he went quiet when Yuri leaned in too close.
He never said anything.
That made it worse.
Because silence from Keifer wasn't absence.
It was restraint.
---
KEIFER'S POV — WHEN JEALOUSY HAS A NAME
I didn't want to feel it.
That was the problem.
Jealousy felt childish. Unwarranted. Hypocritical. I had no right to it. No claim. No spoken line that said she's mine.
And yet—
Every time Yuri stood a little too close to her, something twisted in my chest.
Yuri didn't do anything wrong. That was what made it unbearable.
He was respectful. Careful. Protective. He liked Jay in a way that wasn't loud or aggressive. He didn't invade her space or demand her attention.
He just… showed up.
That terrified me more than if he'd been reckless.
Because Yuri was good.
And Jay deserved good.
I told myself this was what I wanted. That she'd be safer with someone like him. That I was already too deep in things she shouldn't have to touch.
I told myself I didn't get to be territorial.
I told myself I didn't get to care.
Lies.
---
THE PROFANITY RULE — WHEN IT WASN'T A GAME
It didn't start as a rule.
It started as a reflex.
Jay dropped her phone—again—fumbling because her grip still wasn't fully back, because her body hadn't forgiven her yet.
"Sh—"
She sucked in a breath.
"Shit."
The word barely left her mouth.
I didn't plan it.
Didn't weigh consequences.
Didn't check the room.
I leaned in and kissed her.
It was brief. Barely there. More instinct than intent.
But it landed like a fault line cracking open.
She froze.
So did I.
The world didn't react. No one gasped. No one noticed. Section E was mid-argument, loud and distracted.
Jay blinked at me, stunned.
"…What was that?" she asked quietly.
I straightened, heart racing. "You—uh. You cursed."
Her brows knitted, confusion first—then realization.
"…That's why?"
I nodded once, unsure why I'd chosen that explanation instead of the truth.
She laughed under her breath. Soft. A little shaky.
"That's the weirdest rule I've ever heard."
"It's not a rule," I said quickly. "It was just—"
She tilted her head, studying my face. Not teasing. Not playful.
Curious.
"Okay," she said after a moment. "Noted."
And that should've been the end of it.
It wasn't.
Because a few days later, she bumped her knee on a chair.
"Fuck—"
She clamped her mouth shut instantly, eyes widening.
I looked at her.
She looked at me.
For half a second, neither of us moved.
Then I stepped closer and kissed her again.
This one lingered a heartbeat longer.
She didn't laugh this time.
She just breathed out slowly and whispered, "Oh."
After that, it happened only when she genuinely slipped.
When pain surprised her.
When frustration won.
When fear leaked out through language.
Never on purpose.
Never performed.
And every time it happened, it felt less like a joke and more like something sacred we weren't naming.
Something quiet.
Something dangerous.
Something no one else noticed.
---
KEIFER'S POV — WHEN IT BECAME TOO REAL
I told myself it didn't mean anything.
That it was harmless. That it was just a reflex stitched to another reflex.
But the truth was—
I learned her stress points by listening for her voice tightening.
I learned her pain threshold by how sharp the word was.
I learned when she was scared by which curse slipped out first.
And every time, my body answered before my brain.
A kiss to interrupt fear.
A kiss to ground her.
A kiss to say I see you without saying anything at all.
She never abused it.
That mattered more than she knew.
Sometimes she'd curse and immediately cover her mouth, eyes darting to see if anyone heard.
I'd shake my head slightly.
It's okay.
And sometimes—rarely—she'd curse and forget I was there.
Those were the ones that hurt the most.
Because I wanted to be the thing she instinctively reached for.
And slowly—
I was.
---
JAY'S POV — WHEN I REALIZED IT WASN'T A JOKE
I didn't tell anyone.
Not because it was secretive—but because it felt fragile.
Like if I said it out loud, it would turn into something else. Something performative.
Keifer never announced it. Never teased me. Never pushed it.
He just… noticed.
And responded.
The kisses weren't dramatic. They weren't hungry.
They were grounding.
They made my chest stop shaking.
They made the room feel solid again.
And that scared me more than the knife ever did.
Because I wasn't falling because of adrenaline.
I was falling in the quiet moments.
--
DECEMBER CREEPS IN
Lights went up around campus. Strings of gold and white twined through railings and windows. Music shifted to something softer, nostalgic.
The air turned sharp and cold.
Jay started cursing more.
Deliberately.
She'd glance at me first—eyes bright, challenging—then whisper something she absolutely.
---
CHRISTMAS EVE
We didn't meet.
Didn't make a big deal out of it.
Just—
Jay: Merry Christmas, Keifer🪄.
I stared at the screen longer than I should've.
Me: Merry Christmas, Jay....
Three dots.
Then—
Jay: Don't get soft.
I smiled.
And for the first time in a long time, I didn't feel like I was waiting for something to go wrong.