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The morning air was crisp, the sky still carrying the golden softness of dawn.

Zayn stepped out of his apartment, dark sunglasses covering his tired eyes, hoodie lazily thrown over his head, and earbuds ready to drown out the world.

But before he could even reach the bottom step On his doormat.

A bouquet.

Wrapped in soft paper, tied neatly with black ribbon. It wasn’t loud or flashy. It was elegant, simple.

And on top, a small card.

Zayn stared at it for a moment like it was a foreign object. He looked left, then right. No one around.

Curious despite himself, he crouched down and picked it up.

His thumb brushed over the card as he flipped it open.

>To the most beautiful person I’ve ever laid eyes on.

You shine even when you try to hide.

You’re fire and I hope one day, you let someone hold it without getting burned.

There was no name. Just a scrawled. “E” at the bottom.

Zayn stared at the words.

His heart twitched.Then He let out a sharp laugh.

“Romantic bullshit,” he muttered under his breath.

Without hesitating, he stood, walked to the trash bin by the gate, and shoved the bouquet in the whole thing, card and all.

“Time. Waste.”

He wiped his hands like he’d touched something filthy, adjusted his sunglasses, and walked away without looking back.

Behind him, petals wilted quietly in the dark.

But somewhere far away, someone was watching.

And smiling.

---

The college courtyard was buzzing, students moving through morning fog and half-slept eyes.

Zayn spotted Rhys near the steps of the main building, standing with a coffee in hand, scrolling through his phone.

A rare, genuine smile tugged at Zayn’s lips.

He crept up from behind and wrapped his arms around Rhys’s shoulders in a lazy, playful hug.

“Morning, baby,” he said, voice low in his ear.

Rhys looked back with a tired smirk. “You're in a good mood today. Should I be scared?”

Zayn was about to answer when a voice cut in too smooth, too close.

“Hey, Rhys,” Elior said.

Both of them turned to see him walking toward them. “And hey… Mr.”

Zayn smirked, stepping past Rhys and brushing Elior’s shoulder as he moved by. “Good morning to you too....trouble.”

But before he could walk past completely, Elior shifted subtly just enough to hook his foot around Zayn’s.

Zayn stumbled.

He nearly hit the ground but in a split-second, Elior reached out and caught him.

Their faces were inches apart.

“Sometimes,” Elior murmured, steadying Zayn with a firm grip, “we need to stay aware of our surroundings. Anyone could come and make you fall without even noticing you.”

Zayn held his gaze, breath caught, then smirked as he pulled away. “Noted.”

He straightened his clothes and walked off with a swagger, tossing a wink over his shoulder.

Rhys hurried to follow. “Hey. Zayn. Is something going on between you two?”

Zayn rolled his eyes. “Shut up. It was just one time, alright?”

“Right,” Rhys said, unconvinced.

Suddenly, Zayn brought a hand to his mouth, like something had just dawned on him or shaken him.

Rhys stopped in front of him, crossing his arms. “What was that?”

“What?”

“That one time. That hand over your mouth. You're spiraling again.”

“Hey, hey,” Zayn said quickly, raising both hands in surrender. “I swear okay? I’m sorry. Chill.”

Rhys didn’t back down. He stepped closer, hands now on Zayn’s ear.

“I told you not to go down this path again,”

Zayn was shouting."hey hey I am sorry my mom..... but please leave my ear".

but before Rhys could say another word.

Elior appeared behind them, his tone light but laced with something sharp.

“You two are really close,” he said.

Rhys nodded, calm but cautious. “We’ve been best friends for years.”

Elior’s smile was pleasant. Too pleasant.

“That’s sweet,” he said. “Really sweet.”

They all entered the building and headed toward class.

But Elior lingered just a step behind, watching the way Rhys hovered protectively beside Zayn… the way Zayn subtly leaned toward Rhys when no one was looking.

And under his breath, Elior muttered words no one else could hear.

“Found your weak point, Zayn Alaric.”

His smirk twisted part satisfaction, part strategy.

The game had just begun.

---

Elior stood there alone, leaning against the cool wall, his phone pressed to his ear. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes those sharp, calculating eyes burned with quiet intensity.

The call connected.

“Hey,” he said calmly.

A voice responded on the other end. Deep. Male. Slightly distorted.

“I’ve got something for you,” Elior continued. “Yeah. A small job.”

He reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone and tapping something sending a photo.

Rhys's photo.

The one from the college orientation party.

“Make sure it’s this one,” Elior said. “No mistake.”

There was a pause, then a muffled voice from the other side. A chuckle. Agreement.

“Yeah, yeah,” Elior murmured. “Don’t leave any trace. Just… shake things a bit. Not too rough.”

Another pause.

Then Elior’s lips curled into a half-smile.

“I’ll handle the aftermath,” he said softly. “You just deliver the fear.”

He ended the call without waiting for a goodbye.

Sliding his phone back into his pocket, Elior turned to look at the closed classroom door where Zayn was probably half-asleep by now, tossing sarcastic remarks at the professor.

His voice came out as a whisper, just to himself:

“Let’s see how long you can pretend you don’t need anyone, Zayn.”

Then he walked away, cool, composed  and carrying a storm behind his smile.

---

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