Across the Hall: A College Romance

Through Dylan's eyes

Dylan had always been good at keeping his cool. Whether he was juggling three extracurriculars, making a room full of people laugh, or just crushing it in a rowing competition, he knew how to play it smooth. But lately, he felt like he was walking a tightrope, and Wyatt was the one shaking the line.

As he lay on his bed, staring up at the ceiling, Dylan replayed the conversation from earlier in the day. Wyatt had finally said it—the thing that had been simmering between them for weeks, maybe months. It was a relief to hear the words, but it didn't make things any simpler.

Wyatt wanted to give this a shot.

Dylan turned the words over in his mind like a puzzle, trying to figure out how they fit with everything he thought he knew about Wyatt—and about himself. It wasn't like he hadn't felt something for a while now. He had. He'd been into guys- well, actually Wyatt was the first. But Wyatt? That had always been a line he never thought about crossing.

Until Wyatt had started acting... different.

It was subtle at first—lingering looks, the way Wyatt's teasing had shifted just a little, the comfortable way they moved around each other. Dylan had brushed it off, not wanting to get his hopes up, but the night Wyatt ended up drunk in his bed had cracked something open. It had forced them to confront a truth they'd both been dancing around.

But even now, Dylan wasn't sure what Wyatt really wanted. He'd seen how conflicted Wyatt was—how hard it was for him to admit that something was changing between them. The guy had always been the life of the party, charming and easygoing with everyone, but when it came to real feelings, Wyatt was a mess. And Dylan had no idea how long it would take for him to figure things out.

But he'd wait. For Wyatt, he'd wait.

Dylan sighed, pushing himself up to sit at the edge of the bed. He glanced around his messy room, the one thing Wyatt always teased him about, and let a smile tug at the corners of his mouth. There was something grounding about their banter, the way Wyatt could walk into this chaos and roll his eyes at it while somehow making Dylan feel more at ease.

He grabbed his phone and scrolled through their texts. The conversation from earlier replayed in his head—the honesty in Wyatt's voice, the vulnerability. It wasn't easy for Wyatt to admit when he didn't have things under control, but today, he had been more real than Dylan had ever seen him.

A soft knock at the door pulled Dylan from his thoughts. He already knew who it was.

"Come in," he called out, leaning back against the bed.

Wyatt stepped inside, his usual confidence replaced with something more hesitant. "Hey."

"Hey," Dylan said, trying to keep things casual. "You good?"

Wyatt nodded, though he looked like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. "Yeah, I just... wanted to talk more. About us."

Dylan's heart skipped a beat. This was the moment he had both dreaded and hoped for—the moment where things between them might really change. He gestured for Wyatt to sit, and after a moment of hesitation, Wyatt sat down on the bed next to him.

"I've been thinking a lot," Wyatt began, his voice low. "About what you said earlier. About being honest."

Dylan nodded, staying quiet. He didn't want to push, not when Wyatt was already opening up.

"I think I've been avoiding the truth for a long time," Wyatt continued, his eyes focused on the floor. "Not just with you, but with myself. I've always been good at flirting, keeping things casual, but I've never really... connected with anyone like I do with you. And that scares me."

Dylan felt his chest tighten. Wyatt was being more vulnerable now than Dylan had ever seen him, and it wasn't easy to watch. But he could see how hard Wyatt was trying to figure this out, and it made Dylan's own feelings surge to the surface.

"I get it, Wyatt," Dylan said softly. "You've never had to deal with this kind of stuff before. But I'm here. I've always been here. And whatever happens next, we can figure it out together."

Wyatt looked up, his eyes meeting Dylan's for the first time since he'd walked in. There was a vulnerability in them that Dylan wasn't used to seeing, but there was also something else—something deeper.

"I don't want to screw this up," Wyatt said, his voice rough. "I don't want to lose you."

"You won't," Dylan promised. "We're not rushing into anything. We'll take it slow."

Wyatt gave a small, relieved nod. "Okay. Slow sounds good."

They sat there for a moment, the silence between them comfortable for the first time in what felt like days. Dylan wanted to say something more, to reassure Wyatt that everything would be okay, but he knew better than to push. Wyatt needed space to figure this out on his own terms, and Dylan was willing to give him that.

But even as he sat there, watching Wyatt breathe a little easier, Dylan couldn't ignore the quiet hope that had taken root in his chest. Maybe this was the start of something—something real, something that had been building between them for longer than either of them had realized.

Wyatt stood up, running a hand through his hair in that nervous way he did when he wasn't sure what to say next. "I should probably get some sleep. We've got practice tomorrow."

Dylan nodded, standing up as well. "Yeah, definitely."

As Wyatt headed for the door, he paused, turning back to Dylan with a small, uncertain smile. "Thanks. For, you know... everything."

Dylan smiled back, his heart doing a little flip at the sight of Wyatt's softer side. "Anytime, man."

Wyatt gave a quick nod before slipping out the door, leaving Dylan standing alone in his messy room. The door clicked shut behind him, and Dylan let out a slow breath, feeling the tension leave his body.

He didn't have all the answers yet—hell, they both had a lot to figure out—but for the first time in a long time, Dylan felt like maybe things were falling into place. Maybe Wyatt was ready to take that leap, and maybe, just maybe, they were ready to face whatever came next.

Dylan flopped back onto his bed, a grin tugging at his lips. One step at a time. That's all they needed.

4o