Crimson Bonds

4

Spinning Out of Control

Sunshine begins to creep along the city, painting it in shades of white, yellow, and grey. Light bounces off the cars, adding glints of colour to the urban palette, while people of all kinds move through the streets—some rushing, some strolling leisurely, all enveloped in the morning chill. Among them is Peter, dragging himself towards the university, a coffee cup in one hand and exhaustion written across his face. His backpack dangles haphazardly from one shoulder, threatening to slip off at any moment.

Peter's short, dishevelled hair fails to hide the weariness etched into his features. The collar of his wrinkled white shirt pokes out from beneath his wool sweater, and his coat appears hastily thrown on. Dark bags under his eyes stand out against his red skin, further accentuating the sluggishness of his steps. His eyes, still heavy with fatigue, struggle to focus as he navigates through the crowd. The situation with Theoden keeps looping in his mind, robbing him of any semblance of rest. To make matters worse, Saifa's unexpected gesture keeps resurfacing in his thoughts. Why would the High Fae offer his number so casually? As if Peter would ever call or text him. He groans, rubbing his eyes with his free hand, narrowly avoiding colliding with a passerby.

The university looms ahead, its familiar facade promising another tedious day of lectures, awkward encounters with Theoden, and a long shift at the store. Peter sighs heavily, bracing himself for the inevitable monotony and stress that await him.

Just as Peter is about to cross the final street, his phone buzzes in his pocket. He stops mid-stride, pulling it out with a frown. A message from Anouk flashes on the screen:

I heard about Theoden.

Meet me at the library before class.

We should talk.

Peter's heart sinks. The thought of facing Anouk's blunt advice—likely another push to dump Theoden—makes his chest tighten. He's not ready for that conversation, not today. He shoves the phone back into his pocket, deciding to ignore the message for now. But as he takes a step forward, a sharp pain shoots through his shoulder, and his coffee cup flies out of his hand, splattering its contents onto the pavement.

"Watch it!" someone barks.

Peter stumbles back, clutching his throbbing shoulder, his vision still blurred from fatigue. The person who bumped into him is a burly human with a scowl etched across his face. He glares at Peter, clearly annoyed, before walking off without another word.

Peter grits his teeth, anger bubbling up inside him. But he suppresses it, focusing on the mess at his feet instead. He looks around, half-expecting someone to offer help, but the crowd moves on, indifferent. He bends down to pick up the now-empty coffee cup, his tail flicking in irritation. Just as he straightens up, he notices a familiar figure on the opposite side of the street.

Saifa is there, sipping a cappuccino, his green eyes fixed on Peter. There's a brief flash of concern in his gaze before it's replaced with something warmer, more inviting. Peter's first instinct is to look away, but the Fae's gaze holds him in place.

Saifa crosses the street, his movements fluid and unhurried, like he's got all the time in the world. Peter tenses as the High Fae approaches, bracing himself for another awkward exchange.

"Rough morning?" Saifa asks, his tone light but laced with genuine concern.

Peter forces a shrug, trying to appear indifferent. "Just another day."

Saifa glances at the coffee-stained pavement, then back at Peter. "Looks like you could use a fresh cup. There's a good place nearby—my treat?"

Peter hesitates. The idea of spending even a few minutes in Saifa's company feels both tempting and dangerous. He barely knows the guy, yet there's something about him that makes Peter want to say yes. Maybe it's the kindness in Saifa's eyes or the fact that, unlike Theoden, he seems to actually care. But Peter's walls go up, instinctively shielding him from the vulnerability that comes with accepting help.

"I'm fine," Peter mutters, his voice curt. "Got a class to get to."

Saifa doesn't push, but his eyes linger on Peter for a moment longer. "Alright, but if you ever want to talk—or just hang out—you've got my number."

Peter nods stiffly, eager to end the conversation. He turns on his heel and heads towards the university, feeling Saifa's gaze on his back the entire way.

***

Across the street, Saifa watches Peter walk away, a knot of frustration tightening in his chest. He can tell that Peter is hanging by a thread, but the Tiefling's stubbornness is like a wall he can't break through. It doesn't help that Theoden's been parading around campus with that Forest Nymph girl, looking happier than Saifa's ever seen him. Saifa's seen enough heartbreak to know where this is headed, and he wishes he could do more than just watch from the sidelines.

The sky above darkens, grey clouds swallowing the morning sun. Saifa sighs, finishing his cappuccino and tossing the cup into a nearby bin. His next lecture is in ten minutes, but his thoughts keep drifting back to Peter. He wonders if he'll see him again at the store tonight. The idea brings a small, hopeful smile to his lips.

But as he starts walking towards his class, Saifa can't shake the feeling that something's about to give. Peter is spiralling, and if Theoden doesn't pull him out soon, Saifa might just have to do it himself—whether Peter likes it or not.