Chapter Four : Trouble in Quiet Things

(Rhett’s POV)

Rhett Vale never visited people’s rooms.

He avoided dorm hallways like they were landmines—full of small talk, feelings, expectation.

And yet there he was, leaving Callum’s door behind, hoodie soaked and throat tight.

He should’ve just dropped the book off. Slipped it under the door. Walked away.

But he hadn’t.

Because something about Callum stayed with him after that night in the library—how the boy moved like he was used to taking up less space. How he spoke like kindness wasn’t weakness. How his silence felt louder than other people’s noise.

Rhett hated things he couldn’t name. And Callum Vale was becoming one of them.

He walked across the quad as rain misted around him, hands buried in his pockets. His headphones were in, music playing low, but none of it touched the part of him buzzing from their conversation.

“You can’t kill a heart that still wants.”

He hadn’t meant to say that out loud. Hadn’t meant to say anything.

But Callum made it easy to be... less guarded. That was dangerous.

Rhett didn’t do dangerous.

Not anymore.

Back in his dorm, he dropped the hoodie and sat on his bed, jaw clenched, head full.

He had a rule about people: don’t get curious, don’t get close, and never get soft.

Because the moment you let someone see through the cracks, they either pitied you… or used it.

But Callum hadn’t done either.

He’d just listened. Not with sympathy, but with something gentler. Something real.

And that—God, that scared Rhett more than anything.

His phone buzzed.

Callum 🐇: “Thanks again… for bringing the book back.”

Rhett stared at the screen.

The rabbit emoji was new.

He hadn’t expected to like seeing it.

Rhett: “You annotate too much.”

Callum 🐇: “And you read too fast. We’re even.”

He let out a small, involuntary laugh. It startled him.

Callum 🐇: “You don’t talk much in class. But you’re different when it’s just us.”

Rhett: “That’s because I don’t have to pretend with you.”

There. Sent.

Too honest.

Too fast.

His fingers hovered over the keyboard, mind racing to pull it back—but Callum was already typing.

Callum 🐇: “Then don’t. I like this version of you.”

Rhett stared.

There it was again—that terrifying softness.

No one had ever said they liked him without conditions. Not for being tough. Not for being smart. Not for what he could offer.

Just him.

Unfiltered. Untamed. Unexplained.

He didn’t know what to do with that.

So he did nothing.

Except lie back on his bed, stare at the ceiling, and let the sound of rain blur the edges of his thoughts.

Maybe this was the start of something bad.

Or maybe… maybe it wasn’t bad at all.

End of Chapter Four

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