Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Lila learns early how to read silences.

In high school, when Diego dodges questions about the future, when he promises ‘later’ and ‘after,’ she already feels that slight discomfort in her chest, like an alert she chooses to ignore.

They are a couple then.

They love each other then.

Everything seems enough then.

Diego is impulsive, has easy laughter, clenched fists, and speaks promises without thinking too much about their weight. Lila is contained intensity, a gaze that registers, a memory that does not let go. She moves forward. He follows… sometimes.

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” Diego says once, sitting on the edge of the bed. “It’s that I don’t know what I want yet.”

Lila nods. She always nods. She believes that love is also patience.

University changes everything.

First year. Psychology.

Lila walks across campus with highlighted books and her head full of new concepts: attachment, avoidance, repeated patterns. She starts looking at herself through an unforgiving magnifying glass. She starts, unintentionally, looking at Diego the same way.

The calls become less frequent.

The messages grow short.

He decides not to pursue a degree. He is always tired, busy, and training.

Until she is not the one who asks.

It is a photo.

A story shared by someone else.

It is not a close-up, but Lila recognizes it immediately:

Diego’s hand on a waist that is not hers. Kissing other lips.

The world does not shatter all at once.

It slows down.

As if it loses momentum.

Lila does not cry at first. She stays sitting in her room, with a song playing on a loop, one that talks about leaving, about moving, about a new city as the only way out. She feels that something inside her no longer has patience.

She does not confront him right away. She thinks. Analyzes. Observes herself.

She discovers something uncomfortable: she is not surprised.

When they see each other, Diego arrives with that nervous smile he always uses when he knows he failed.

“Lila, I can explain…”

She looks at him. Truly looks at him.

She sees the boy she loves. The one who wanted to grow without realizing that she was already running.

“No,” she says, calmly. “That’s the worst part. I already understand.”

Diego frowns.

“Understand what?”

Lila takes a deep breath. She does not tremble. That unsettles him more than any scream.

“That you were never fully here. That I was moving forward and you… " We were trying out paths,” she pauses. “And I’m not going to stay waiting for you to decide.”

“It wasn’t planned,” he says quickly. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

She almost smiles. Almost.

“That’s exactly what it means.”

Silence.

A heavy one. Final.

“Are you breaking up with me?” Diego asks, as if he cannot believe it.

“Yes.”

“Just like that?”

“It’s not ‘just like that,’” she corrects. “It’s everything.”

Lila takes her bag. There is no drama. No scene.

Just a new certainty settling in her chest: staying would hurt more than leaving.

That night, she walks alone through the city. It is not a new city yet, but it will be. She feels it. The disappointment is still there, sharp, but it does not stop her. It pushes her.

Lila understands something fundamental:

Love that does not move forward also wears you down. And she is no longer willing to lose momentum for anyone.

Tomorrow there will be classes. Readings. Theories.

There will be new versions of herself.

Diego is left behind, learning too late.

Lila keeps walking. She does not look back.

In the first weeks, Lila functions.

She functions like someone who learns a new mechanism and tightens it until it stops hurting. She wakes up early, attends classes, and takes neat notes. She smiles when she runs into Diego somewhere impossible on campus. She keeps her back straight. Her gaze was steady.

Dignity, she repeats.

She will not let him see the wound.

“I’m fine,” she says when someone asks.

And she almost believes it.

She has already gone through denial, through which it wasn’t that bad.

She has already gone through anger, through the silent rage that burns her stomach when she remembers the other hand, the other waist. The kiss.

She even went through bargaining, through that treacherous thought.

“If I had been less intense, if he had matured a little more.”

She intellectualizes grief like everything else.

She organizes it.

She dissects it.

But depression does not warn you. It does not ask permission.

It arrives one ordinary afternoon, when she comes home and drops her keys on the table. It arrives when the silence weighs too much. When the body gives up before the mind.

She sits on the floor without remembering how she got there.

And then the memories come in without knocking.

Diego is laughing with his mouth full.

Diego bandaged his hands after training.

Diego was sleeping beside her, his brow furrowed as if the world never gave him a break.

Her chest sinks.

It is not just missing him.

It is realizing that none of that can ever exist the same way again.

Lila hugs her knees. She feels a huge emptiness, a hollow that cannot be filled with analysis or technical words. Frustration. A rage turned inward.

Why can’t she be different?

Why does she always love like this, completely, without restraint?

She understands too well how her story, her way of growing up, her decisions, and Diego’s led them exactly here. And knowing it does not ease the pain. It makes it worse.

“I can’t change this…” she murmurs into the air, her voice broken. “I can’t change him. Or myself.”

The thought repeats until it becomes unbearable.

She feels as if something inside her is crumbling, piece by piece. There are moments—brief, dangerous—when she thinks it would be easier to disappear, to stop feeling this constant weight. The idea does not stay, but it passes. And that scares her more than anything else.

She brings her hands to her head.

Inside her, there are screams.

Mute, agonized screams that no one hears.

Her heart races.

Her breathing becomes shallow.

Anxiety rises up her throat like a fire.

“Enough,” she tells herself. “Enough, enough, enough.”

But it is not enough.

She goes out to walk because staying still hurts more.

The city is intact, cruelly intact. Every corner holds something of him. The café where they argued for the first time. The bridge where they kissed in the rain. The bus stop where Diego promised things he could not sustain.

Everything reminds her that she wanted to stay.
Everything reminds her that she has to leave.

Lila walks aimlessly, with the feeling that her life is losing momentum, that something essential is wearing down with every step. But there is also something else, buried beneath the pain: an urgency.

If she stays here, she breaks.

If she does not move, she gets lost.

She stops, breathes deeply, eyes wet and body trembling.

She is not okay.

But she keeps walking.

Time passes, even if it does not feel that way to Lila.

Days stack on top of each other like layers of makeup: they cover, they do not heal. She learns to smile in the hallways, to sit up straight in front of professors, to respond with measured intelligence, without visible cracks. Beauty. Control. Perfection. The façade becomes a second skin.

No one asks what it costs to hold it up.

In class, she takes notes with impeccable handwriting while her head buzzes. In the hallways, her classmates look at her as if she has everything figured out. She nods, laughs when appropriate. The brilliant Psychology girl. The one who seems to know who she is.

Inside, she feels hollow.

Her parents call from another city. Proud, tired voices, full of expectations. They accepted a new job when she finished high school. They did it for the future. For her future.

“We’re so proud of you,” her mother says on the phone. “Psychology… you were always so strong.”

Lila grips the phone tightly.

“Yes,” she answers. “Everything is fine.”

She hangs up and stares at the wall.

How is she supposed to look them in the eyes now?

How does she tell them that their daughter does not feel strong, or brilliant, or whole?

How does she explain that there are days when she can barely hold herself together?

“A failure…” a cruel voice whispers inside her.

Damn expectations.

Damn image.

Damn, need to appear intact when everything is falling apart.

She looks at herself in the mirror before leaving. She chooses the right clothes, the right expression. Always perfect, always beautiful. She adjusts every detail as if that could keep anyone from noticing the crack across her chest.

Sometimes she thinks about Diego without meaning to.

Not just the betrayal.

Not just the ending.

She thinks about what it awakened.

“Why?” she murmurs in her empty room, as if he could hear her. “Why was I never enough for you to stay?”

She does not know if the question is an accusation or a plea. Maybe both. Because it is not just that he left. It is that his leaving exposed something she already feared: that loving like this, with everything, has too high a price.

“Is it because of who I am?” she adds softly. “Because of how I feel… how I live…?”

Silence does not answer.

Her mind will not shut up. Thoughts repeat, spin, wear down. She feels as if her brain is rotting from so much analyzing, from returning to the same dead end over and over. Pure, thick anxiety that tightens her chest and steals her breath.

Life loses momentum.

She walks through the city, and everything seems slowed down, distant. The lights, the people, the noise. She moves as if carrying an invisible weight. Every step is an effort. Every day, a performance.

“I can’t keep living like this,” she tells herself one night, sitting on her bed, hands trembling.

But the next day she gets up again. She puts on makeup again. She pretends again.

Because no one taught her how to disappoint without breaking.

Because she still does not know who she is without that façade.

The city keeps spinning. Lila feels something inside her wearing down, exhausting itself, losing strength… as if standing still were disappearing, but moving also hurt.

Even so, she keeps going.

Not because she is okay.

But because stopping now would be giving up.

The vacations arrive like a badly placed pause.

Lila gets off the bus with her backpack on her shoulder and her smile already practiced. The city where her parents now live is different: cleaner, slower, less loaded with memories.

Anita hugs her tightly as soon as she sees her. Ronnie ruffles her hair like when she was a teenager.

“Look at you,” her mother says, proud. “You’re beautiful.”

“And so smart,” her father adds. “We knew university would suit you.”

Lila nods. Smiles. Endures.

During the first days, she pretends with precision. She helps in the kitchen, talks about classes, omits names, and avoids dates. She shows herself brilliant, functional, whole. Her parents look at her as if everything is turning out exactly as they dreamed.

And that is what weighs the most.

One night, after dinner, she stays seated at the table when the dishes are already clean, and the house enters that domestic silence that does not judge. Her hands tremble slightly.

“Mom… Dad…” she says, and her voice breaks before she can stop it.

Anita looks up immediately. Ronnie frowns, attentive.

“What’s wrong, Lila?”

She tries to start several times. Swallows. The façade cracks.

“I’m not okay.”

The words come out all at once, as if they have been building up for months.

She tells them everything. About Diego. About the betrayal. About the breakup. About how she tried to be dignified, strong, and perfect. About how the stages of grief collapsed on her one after another. About the anxiety. The emptiness. That constant feeling of being stuck, of her life losing momentum, even though she keeps walking.

“I feel like I’m rotting from the inside,” she confesses, silent tears falling. “Like I can’t change who I am… or what happened. And I can’t hold it anymore.”

Anita does not interrupt her. Ronnie does not either. They listen. Truly listen.

“There are days,” Lila continues, “when I just want to disappear. Die…” she blurts out quickly, frightened by her own words. “Disappear to start over. Be someone else. Somewhere else.”

The silence that follows is not heavy. It is soft.

Anita stands and approaches. Ronnie does the same. They sit beside her.

“Thank you for telling us the truth,” her mother says slowly. “You didn’t have to carry this alone.”

“You’re not a failure,” Ronnie adds firmly. “You’re tired. That’s different.”

Lila cries then. Uncontrollably. She folds in on herself and lets them hold her.

“I’ve been thinking…” she says through sobs, “about moving in with you. Really. Not as an escape… but as a rebirth. I want to start over. Without all that pressure. Without that version of myself, I don’t want to be anymore.”

Anita strokes her hair.

“If that’s what you need to be okay, this is your home.”

“We’ll support you in everything,” Ronnie says. “As long as you’re okay. As long as you find something that makes you happy.”

They hug her. Both of them. Tight. Like an anchor.

After a while, when Lila’s breathing calms, Anita pulls back slightly and looks at her carefully.

“Do you plan to enroll in the university here?”

Lila nods.

“Yes.”

Ronnie tilts his head, cautious.

“And psychology? Are you going to continue?”

Lila looks ahead. The answer does not hurt. It feels clear.

“No,” she says. “I want to leave the past behind.”

It is not a rejection of what she learned.

It is a need for air.

Her parents do not argue. They do not ask more questions. They accept it.

That night, lying in the guest room—which will soon be her permanent room—Lila stares at the ceiling and feels something new mix with the exhaustion: a possibility. It is not relief yet. It is not happiness.

But it is movement, and that idea does not scare her.

Weeks pass. The new semester has begun.

The dean’s office imposes silence even before crossing the door.

Lila stands upright in front of Reginald Hargreeves’s desk, hands crossed with calculated precision. She presents her case without hesitation: the transfer, the change of city, the need to start over without turning it into an obvious escape. She speaks clearly, firmly, without unnecessary embellishments.

Reginald does not interrupt her. He observes. Analyzes.

He reviews her academic record with methodical slowness, as if each line confirms something he already knows.

“I must say,” he finally states, “that the institution will be very pleased to have you among its students.”

Lila smiles. Not wide. Just enough.

“Thank you, Dean.”

Reginald interlaces his fingers.

“Have you already chosen the major you will pursue?”

She shakes her head.

“Not yet.”

There is no doubt. It is an excess of possibilities.

Reginald studies her for another second, with that gaze that seems to pierce layers.

“Let me propose something,” he says. “Explore the campus firsthand. Sit in on some classes as an auditor. Observe. Listen. Sometimes the right choice is not reasoned: it is recognized.”

Lila nods.

“I appreciate it.”

She says goodbye with impeccable courtesy and leaves.

The walk around campus is long. Too big. Too full of stimuli. Lila walks with a sharpened mind, discarding options with surgical speed.

Traditional medicine: too much hierarchy.

Pure arts: too much intuition without structure.

Routine, administrative careers: certain suffocation.

No.

Her real options narrow quickly:

International Relations.

Political Science.

Law, criminal, or international.

Criminology.

And… theoretical physics.

Criminology tempts her. The psychology of crime, the boundary between victim and perpetrator.

The decision is not easy, but her feet carry her toward a specific building.

Theoretical physics.

She enters the classroom when the lights are off. The professor speaks in a monotone voice, projecting glowing equations on the board. Lila advances cautiously, but the darkness works against her. She bumps into a chair.

The noise echoes like a gunshot.

The class stops.

The lights turn on.

The group is small. Too attentive. Too silent.

Lila stands still for a second, measuring the atmosphere.

“Don’t worry,” the professor says calmly. “I was already notified of your presence. You may join us, miss.”

She nods, murmurs a thank-you, and heads toward an empty seat.

Before she sits, a voice leans toward her from the adjacent row.

“Thanks for the interruption, idiot,” says a dark-haired boy with green eyes, not bothering to lower his voice. “The class was unbearably boring.”

Lila turns her head slowly. She observes him. He is not as young as the others. Too confident. Sharp intelligence in his gaze.

“I’m glad to be of service,” she replies, dryly.

The boy draws a crooked, dangerous smile.

“Believe me, you were.”

Lila sits. Looks forward.

The professor clears his throat, uncomfortable with the murmur left by the interruption.

“Sir,” he says, looking at the dark-haired boy. “Were you paying attention, or would you prefer to make clever comments?”

He takes the list and slides his finger over the names.

“You can call me Five,” the boy interrupts naturally.

Lila arches an eyebrow slightly. Five?

Ridiculous. She thinks of hippie parents, some absurd nickname no one had the nerve to correct.

The professor looks at him with a mix of annoyance and curiosity.

“Very well, Mr. Five,” he says. “Then explain the principle I just mentioned.”

Five does not hesitate. He answers fluidly, advancing concepts, connecting theories that the professor has not yet written on the board. He talks about probabilities, frames of reference, and variables that should not come out of a first-year student’s mouth.

The classroom falls silent.

“Correct,” the professor admits, surprised. “Continue paying attention.”

Lila watches him out of the corner of her eye.

He looks a couple of years older than her. Relaxed posture. Irritating confidence.

Another presumptuous rich boy, she thinks, one of those who don’t know what to do with their life and play at being geniuses.

The class continues. Equations. Symbols. Time passing.

Afterward, a girl approaches with an open smile.

“Hi,” she says. “I’m Sloane. Are you joining the class? I can help you catch up if you want.”

“Thanks,” Lila replies, “but I think physics isn’t for me. I’ve decided on Criminology.”

Sloane makes a small pout.

“That’s a little sad. There aren’t many girls in physics.”

“We could go to the library together sometime,” Lila suggests. “Even if it’s not for this.”

Sloane nods, delighted.

“I’d love that.”

“Physics isn’t for idiots,” a voice intervenes behind them. “Better she go play detective.”

Lila spins around. Five is leaning against the wall, shamelessly listening to everything.

“Excuse me?” she says, blood rushing to her face.

“I’m saying it’s a waste of time,” he continues. “Physics demands rigor. Not cheap intuition.”

Fury flashes through her chest.

“Someone as old as you doesn’t deserve an opinion,” she snaps. “Go back to your existential crisis.”

Five smiles mockingly, unfazed.

“When you want to discuss real ideas,” he says, “you know where to find me.”

He walks away with his hands in his pockets, without looking back.

Lila watches him go, her pulse racing. She does not know why he annoys her so much.

“Who does that idiot think he is?” Lila asks once they are far enough from the classroom.

She walks quickly down the hallway, adrenaline still burning. Sloane follows her, adjusting her backpack. They head toward the cafeteria, among students talking about exams and assignments as if nothing extraordinary had happened.

Sloane hesitates for a second. She looks nervous.

“He is… Maximillian Quintus Hargreeves.”

Lila stops short.

Now the nickname makes sense.

But the last name…

Her eyes widen, incredulous.

“Wait… Hargreeves?”

Sloane nods, lowering her voice.

“Yes. He’s the dean’s son.”

Lila lets out a dry laugh.

“Of course. Pure nepotism,” she resumes walking. “No wonder he thinks he owns the place. Besides, he’s too old to be starting a degree.”

Sloane shakes her head immediately, almost uncomfortable.

“No, no… that’s where you’re wrong.”

Lila frowns.

“How?”

“Five has already graduated from several degrees,” Sloane explains. “Pure and applied mathematics, physical engineering… I think something else, too, but I never remember everything. And he has a very well-paid job outside the university.”

Lila stays silent as they walk, processing quickly.

“So the old man turned out to be a full-blown genius,” she mutters. “That doesn’t make him any less unbearable.”

She stops at the entrance to the cafeteria.

“But… if he’s already done everything,” she adds, “why is he here again? Why study another degree?”

Sloane shrugs.

“Because he was bored.”

Lila blinks.

“Bored?”

“That’s what they say,” Sloane replies. “Five does things like that. When something stops stimulating him, he changes.”

Lila looks inside the cafeteria, the noise, the constant movement. She thinks of him: the crooked smile, the ease with which he dismantles theories, the effortless arrogance.

Bored.

The word sparks a strange irritation… and a curiosity she does not want to admit.

“What a waste of a brain,” she finally says, stepping inside. “Or what a danger.”

She is not sure which of the two bothers her more.

The campus cafeteria is full of noise, coffee steam, and overlapping conversations. Sloane raises her hand as soon as they cross the entrance, and a group of students already seated at a table responds to the greeting.

“Here!” she says, without letting go of Lila.

Before Lila can protest, Sloane takes her by the hand and drags her between tables and backpacks. The gesture is natural, decisive. Lila feels the pull and, with it, something strange in her chest.

It is the first time she does not feel in transit, the first time she feels she belongs somewhere.

“Guys,” Sloane says, smiling. “This is Lila. She just arrived at the university.”

The looks turn toward her with genuine curiosity, without judgment.

“Nice to meet you,” Lila says, with a smile that comes easily. “All of you.”

“Luther,” says a tall boy with broad shoulders. “Space sciences.”

He says it with a mix of seriousness and childlike enthusiasm.

“Allison,” continues an elegant, confident girl. “Performing arts.”

There is pride in her voice, a confidence that fills the space.

“Klaus,” interrupts another, resting his chin on his hand. “Philosophy. And yes, that explains a lot.”

“Ben,” says a boy with a sharp gaze. “Economics.”

“Viktor,” adds the last one, softly. “Music.”

Lila nods, looking at them one by one, memorizing them.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she says.

Smiles multiply. Questions start raining down: where she’s from, what she studies, what she likes. Klaus exaggerates gestures. Allison listens with real attention. Luther pulls up a chair for her. Viktor barely speaks, but watches her with calm curiosity.

“Well,” Klaus suddenly says, pointing behind her, “the university’s little prince has arrived.”

Lila turns her head.

Five crosses the cafeteria with a cup of coffee in his hand. He walks alone, as always. He wears a dark jacket perfectly arranged, a tired expression, green eyes attentive to everything and nothing. He does not seem to notice the laughter or the noise around him.

“I thought he’d be eating lobster with his father,” Ben says mockingly. “Or planning world domination.”

Laughter bursts around the table.

Five stops for just a second. He lifts his gaze. His eyes pass over the group… and stop on Lila.

He does not smile. He does not frown. He just looks at her.

Then he keeps walking.

Lila follows him with her eyes, silent.

Something about that boy—his way of isolating himself from the world, of walking as if everything were insufficient—provokes an uncomfortable mix of curiosity and challenge.

Five disappears into the crowd.

The conversation continues around her, lively, warm.

But Lila is no longer fully there.

Her thoughts linger a few seconds behind, following the figure of the boy with the coffee.

Days pass with a new cadence, lighter.

Lila begins to recognize hallways, schedules, and faces. She no longer walks with the constant knot in her chest; now she enters classes with her chin up, takes notes, debates, and argues. She integrates.

In criminology, she meets Jayme.

It is not a gentle friendship. It is direct, sharp, and uncomfortable. And it works.

Jayme does not ask unnecessary questions. Lila does not overexplain. In little time, they form an improvised study group, intense, effective. Sometimes they stay late reviewing cases, profiles, and theories. Other times, they simply flee campus.

It is Jayme who suggests the café.

A small, discreet place, open twenty-four hours. Warm light, worn tables, the smell of old coffee and burnt sugar. The kind of place where no one stays too long… except those who have nowhere else to go.

Alphonso works there, Jayme’s best friend. Night shift. Final year.

“Don’t expect smiles,” Jayme warns her the first time. “But the coffee is good.”

Alphonso barely looks up when they enter. He sets two cups on the counter without asking.

“The usual,” he grunts.

Jayme smiles. Lila understands that this is affection.

Over time, Lila starts to get to know the rest of Jayme’s circle.

Fei, a final-year student, works part-time in campus security on the night shift. Always on the edges, always observing. He speaks little, but when he does, he is precise. Markus, second year, trainer at the university gym, imposing presence, firm voice, pure discipline. Christopher, second year, technical research assistant; no one knows exactly what he does, but he is always where something important is happening.

Lila feels… included.

One night, while they review notes and Alphonso cleans the coffee machine, the door opens.

And her world freezes for a second.

Five walks in as if the place belongs to him. Dark suit, tired expression. Lila curses under her breath.

This café is supposed to be little-known.

What the hell is he doing here?

Five lifts his gaze.

His green eyes meet hers for just an instant. There is no surprise. No greeting. Just recognition.

He pays. Receives his order. Turns around.

Leaves.

Lila lets out the breath she did not know she was holding.

“Wow,” Jayme says, leaning her elbow on the table. “Looks like you don’t like the prodigy boy either.”

“Boy?” Lila scoffs. “He’s a damn presumptuous old man.”

Alphonso lets out a dry laugh. Markus shakes his head. Fei tilts his face slightly, as if he already knows the story.

“Oh, believe me,” Jayme says. “We have anecdotes.”

And they tell her.

The arguments in class.

The public corrections to professors.

The condescending looks.

The habit of appearing where no one expects him.

Lila listens, laughs, and adds some acidic comment. She feels part of the group. Full. The change of city, environment, life… works.

She fully adapts to the university routine.

And yet, there is something that does not change.

No matter which building she enters.

No matter the library, the lab, the gym, or the most remote hallway.

Five appears.

They do not always exchange words. Sometimes he is just a silhouette in the distance. Or a voice correcting something no one else noticed. Or an uncomfortably constant presence, like a poorly solved equation.

Lila notices him. Always.

“It’s like a curse,” she murmurs once, walking beside Jayme across campus.

“No,” Jayme replies. “It’s Five.”

Lila is deeply grateful to live with her parents.

Grateful she did not move into the dorms, or a sorority, or any shared space.

Because she is sure of one thing.

If she had, she would probably… run into him there too. And that would definitely be too much.

Friday afternoon falls with a strange calm.

Lila walks across campus with less tension in her shoulders, as if something inside her has finally learned to breathe. The air is warm, voices mix with distant laughter. She stops when she sees Klaus leaning against a railing, animatedly talking to a boy she does not recognize.

They laugh. Say goodbye with an exaggerated hug.

Before the boy walks away completely, Lila hears:

“We’ll be waiting for you.”

She frowns.

“Waiting where?” she asks, approaching.

Klaus turns and sees her. His eyes light up as if he just won the lottery.

“Lila!” he exclaims, opening his arms. “Exactly the person I needed to see.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“The grand anniversary of my fraternity,” he says, lowering his voice just enough to sound conspiratorial. “Everyone’s going to attend.”

Lila blinks.

“A party?” she repeats. “I haven’t been to one in a long time.”

“Oh, this isn’t a party,” Klaus clarifies with a crooked smile. “There will be drinks, food, music… and lots of sex.”

“Klaus!” she whispers, alarmed. “Lower your voice.”

He looks at her, confused.

“Why? It’s pretty common here. Besides, it’s tradition for first-years to sleep with someone on fraternity anniversary night,” he adds, tilting his head. “And from what you’ve told me about your ex… you’re no virgin.”

“I’m not interested in that tradition,” Lila replies dryly.

“If you don’t do it, the fraternity curse will fall on you.”

“That’s nonsense.”

Klaus smiles as if that were the most charming thing in the world.

“Either way, I hope to see you there,” he says, blowing her an air kiss. “Don’t miss it.”

He walks away humming, leaving her with a mix of disbelief and annoyance.

Lila sighs… when a voice rises behind her.

“I thought you attended classes. Not that you lived at orgies and alcohol parties.”

Her skin prickles.

She does not need to turn around to know who it is.

“Nosy old man,” she replies, turning. “It’s none of your business. After all, you’re a stuck-up who doesn’t know how to have fun.”

Five looks at her with one eyebrow raised, coffee cup in hand, expression unreadable.

“I know how to have fun,” he says calmly. “In fact, I’ll be attending the party.”

Lila lets out a brief laugh, dripping with sarcasm.

“Then I wish you luck,” she retorts. “Because no girl… or boy… will want to sleep with you. You’ll be the one with the fraternity curse.”

She does not wait for a response. She turns and walks away, pulse racing, pride burning.

Behind her, Five watches her leave.

That night, the music vibrates from the fraternity entrance, heavy, insistent. Colored lights cross the courtyard and filter through open windows. The air smells of alcohol, cheap perfume, and adrenaline.

Lila arrives with Jayme and the rest of her group. Jayme walks as if the place belongs to her; Alphonso follows behind, observing everything critically. Fei moves silently. Markus imposes presence without saying a word. Christopher… simply is.

“Wow,” Lila murmurs. “This is… a lot.”

“Relax,” Jayme says. “Just don’t accept weird drinks.”

Inside, the atmosphere is even more chaotic.

Luther moves through the crowd, one arm around Sloane’s waist. Allison appears shortly after, holding the arm of Ray, her final-year Law boyfriend. He looks confident and charming. Ben arrives with Jennifer from International Relations, impeccable as always. Viktor enters holding Sissy’s hand, discreet, warm, with a soft smile.

Introductions flow naturally.

“They’re the rest of my friends,” Lila says sincerely.

“Nice to meet you,” Fei replies, evaluating the first-year group with a kind smile. “Lila talks a lot about you.”

Conversations cross, laughter comes easily. Against all odds, everyone gets along. Lila surprises herself by enjoying the party. She dances, lets herself go with the music, but she does not drink.

Until Klaus, inevitably, opens his mouth.

“So,” he says, leaning toward her with a mischievous smile, “have you chosen your victim yet?”

“Again with that?” Lila replies, rolling her eyes. “It’s stupid.”

“It’s not,” Fei intervenes seriously. “Last year, I met the affected guy. He ended up alone. Now he’s waiting for the curse to transfer to someone else.”

Lila frowns.

“That makes no sense.”

“Have you seen the guy without an arm?” Christopher suddenly asks.

Lila nods, uncomfortable.

“Of course. He’s everywhere.”

“That’s the cursed guy,” Markus says quietly.

“I heard he lost his arm because of it,” Alphonso adds. “Bad luck.”

Lila presses her lips together.

She is a woman of science. She does not believe in superstitions. But she also does not like tempting chance.

Besides… she has not been with anyone other than Diego.

She looks around. Her new friends are paired off, laughing, comfortable together. Sloane with Luther. Allison with Ray. Ben with Jennifer. Viktor with Sissy.

Only Jayme… and Klaus remain.

As if the universe were mocking her, it does not take long before Klaus is intercepted by a boy and a girl at the same time. He smiles, delighted.

“Well,” Jayme says, stretching. “I think I’ll go hunting.”

“What?” Lila asks.

“You know.” Jayme winks at her and disappears into the crowd.

Lila swallows.

“I’m going to step outside for a moment,” she announces, needing air.

Markus and Alphonso exchange looks.

“How much do you bet?” Markus says, pulling out some bills.

“That Lila will be the next curse bearer?” Alphonso replies without hesitation.

Money changes hands.

Outside, the night air is cooler.

Lila walks through the fraternity’s back garden, away from the noise. The lights stay behind, the music becomes a distant pulse. Among the bushes, she sees shameless couples, muffled laughter, bodies too close. The air smells of damp grass and alcohol.

She does not believe in curses.

She feels overwhelmed.

Maybe she should go home…

Though she already told her parents she would spend the night with Jayme.

She walks slowly, turning over the absurd idea of the curse. She thinks about the students who stay home, who do not come to these parties. Why does nothing happen to them? Logic tries to prevail, but anxiety does not understand arguments.

Then she sees him.

A boy alone, sitting on the grass, looking at the sky. A full glass. A poor devil, she thinks.

“Maybe… maybe this will help me get over Diego once and for all.”

She decides it will be that boy.

She walks up to him and sits beside him without preamble. Her heart beats fast, but she keeps her chin up.

“Do you want to come upstairs with me?” she asks directly.

The boy turns his face toward her. He smiles mockingly, a slow, dangerous curve.

“I never imagined you would ask me something like that.”

Her blood freezes.

Lila goes pale.

It is Five.

But he does not look like he usually does. No suit, no calculated rigidity. He dresses like any other campus boy, hair slightly disheveled, expression relaxed. Normal. Too normal.

Damn it.

She has just proposed sex to him.

She jumps to her feet.

“Forget it,” she says hurriedly. “I mistook you for someone else.”

She steps back, but Five stands and takes her hand. Not forcefully. Precisely.

“Are you afraid you might like it?” he asks, tilting his head slightly.

“Please,” Lila replies, trying to pull away. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“I’ll make you forget anyone else,” he says calmly, almost provocatively.

The slap rings sharply in the air.

“I hate you,” Lila spits, offended, her hand still burning.

But something ignites in her chest. An irrational, electric impulse. Before thinking, before regretting it, she steps forward and kisses him.

It is a rough kiss, loaded with rage and challenge.

Lila goes blank.

She does not know when she gets into Five’s car, or when the city becomes a blurred succession of lights. She only remembers his focused silence as he drives, one hand firm on the wheel, the other brushing her knee as if he needs to check that she is still there.

The next image is a hotel room, spacious, elegant, too silent for what is happening between them.

They are lying on the bed, still dressed. Kissing.

Lila has to admit it, even if it pains her: Five kisses too well. His lips are not clumsy or anxious; they are precise, confident, as if they know exactly where to stay and when to retreat. Each kiss sends an electric shock through her entire body.

Five’s hands move slowly, exploring her with an attention she does not expect. There is no rush. It is almost… meticulous. As if he is trying to memorize her. Lila only reacts, moans, and arches without realizing it.

Five stops for a second to look at her.

His green eyes roam over her with contained intensity. Then he kisses her again, and their mouths meet once more, breaths mixing, tongues dancing in a rhythm that needs no words.

“Five…” Lila moans again and again, as if his name is an anchor, a safe word to cling to so she does not lose control.

He pulls back slightly.

The movement unsettles her.

Lila watches him bring his hands to his belt and, for a moment, thinks with irony that the damn idiot wants oral sex.

She is wrong.

Five carefully takes Lila’s wrists and brings them together, with a calm that is not violent, but deliberate. He looks her in the eyes before continuing, as if measuring her reaction.

“You’re a little wild creature,” he says softly. “And it seems no one has taught you how to stop.”

Lila’s heart pounds. She should argue. She should provoke him, push him, say something cutting.

But she doesn’t.

“Maybe,” she replies, barely audible. “Maybe I need it.”

And she lets herself be tied.

Not as a surrender, but as a choice.

Five holds her gaze, serious, attentive, as if he understands that what is happening between them is not just desire, but a shared pulse. Control and challenge meet at the same point.

Lila ignites when she feels Five break the stillness between them with a rough, almost desperate gesture. The fabric of her blouse gives under his hands. She should be annoyed. She should say something. But she can’t.

She is too stunned.

As if pleasure runs through her blood.

Five smiles, satisfied, when he realizes Lila is not wearing a bra. He says nothing. He doesn’t need to. He caresses her breasts. His mouth takes her nipples, tasting them, sucking, biting.

Lila feels her body burn, feels like she could stop breathing at any moment, and still does not want him to stop.

There is so much intensity, so much passion—she has never felt like this, not even with Diego.

Five knows exactly what to do. Every caress, every pause, every movement has intention. There is no clumsiness, no doubt. Only control… and surrender.

She feels her pants slide down her skin, followed by her underwear.

Five’s touches descend to her intimacy, along with his face…

Will he do it?

Lila has little experience receiving oral sex. Diego was not very skilled and never made her finish.

She is tense and insecure, but she remembers that she decided to let herself go. This time, she does not want to think.

The first contact makes her sigh, a sound she does not recognize as her own.

Little by little, alongside this unbearable idiot, she begins to discover a different way of feeling. Of receiving. Of losing control without fear.

“Five…” she calls him again and again, her voice broken. “Don’t stop.”

He doesn’t.

Five’s tongue alternates rhythm and precision. He knows when to lick, bite, and suck, and he also uses his fingers. When to provoke and when to hold her.

Lila pulls at him as best she can, her bound hands clutching his neck, demanding more, unable to form coherent words.

And then it happens.

The sensation hits her full force, intense, overwhelming. It is a new and delicious experience. A pleasure that does not need pretending. That does not need acting. That leaves her trembling, vulnerable, alive.

It is different from everything she knew.

With Diego, she always had to lie.

This is not that.

This is real.

Five does not move right away. He enjoys the taste of Lila in his mouth.

His breathing is controlled, too measured for someone who should be undone. One hand braces beside Lila.

He watches her.

Not with triumph.

Not with mockery.

With silent, almost dangerous attention.

Lila is still trembling when she opens her eyes and finds him looking at her like that, as if he is solving a complex problem without wanting to show it.

Five exhales slowly.

“Do you want to continue?”

Chapter Text

Lila hesitates for a second, processing the rush of adrenaline coursing through her body, but she nods decisively.

“I want to continue,” she replies, a glint of defiance in her eyes.

Five smiles with that seductive self-assurance that defines him and positions him above her.

He begins to undress slowly, and even though Lila’s hands are restrained, she manages to help him with agile, precise movements. Between each falling garment, Lila intercepts him with voracious kisses; she seeks his neck, leaving soft trails with her lips, but soon her patience runs out. She bites him eagerly, licks him, desperate to taste every inch of him.

Five groans, closing his eyes at the attention Lila gives him. He feels his control falter. Lila then focuses on Five’s masculinity, which is already awake and rising, demanding to participate, glistening at the imminent closeness.

“Do you have protection?” Five asks, trying to recover a gram of logic in the middle of desire.

“Check my bag,” Lila replies, pointing toward the nightstand with her eyes.

Five stretches and opens the bag. To his surprise, he finds an enormous, almost endless strip of condoms. He lets out a dry, amused laugh as he pulls out the supply.

“Well, Lila…” he jokes, showing her the strip. “It seems you really were ready for an orgy.”

“Shut up!” she snaps, huffing indignantly. “Klaus must have put those there. That idiot has no limits.”

Five puts the condom on skillfully, but before moving forward, he looks at her with pure mischief in his eyes.

“Well,” he says, leaning close to her ear again, “since we have them… we could use them all tonight.”

Lila immediately tenses beneath his weight. The mere idea of the physical endurance that would require, combined with Five’s intensity, leaves her breathless.

The atmosphere in the room becomes dense, almost tangible, as Five contemplates Lila. The silence amplifies every sound: the rustle of the sheets, the rapid beating of their hearts, and their uneven breathing.

Lila holds his gaze, aware of what he is processing. She knows exactly how she looks to him: vulnerable because of the restraint on her wrists, but absolutely willing, ignited, and very wet. It is a total surrender that Five devours with his eyes before moving.

With deliberate slowness, Five looks into her eyes again. He slides his hands along her thighs, firmly spreading her legs, and positions himself between them. He leans in to caress her face. He kisses her deeply and, against her lips, confesses in a broken voice:

“I can’t promise to be entirely gentle, Lila… you drive me crazy.”

He aligns himself with her entrance, feeling the heat radiating from her, and pushes forward with a decisive movement. They both groan in unison, a sound that fills the room's emptiness. Five pauses for a moment when he feels the immediate tension in Lila’s body.

She knows the pleasure comes with a physical challenge; Five is very large, and it has been a long time since she has been intimate this way.

To relax her, Five begins a display of slow caresses and kisses, trying to let her body adjust to him. He lowers his hands to massage her breasts with devotion and then leans down to suck her nipples, seeking to distract her and elevate her arousal to its peak.

Lila, for her part, feels a true surge of pleasure battling the slight discomfort of the fullness he creates inside her. It is an overwhelming sensation, an electric reconnection.

She grips the restraints, arching her back, while Five’s rhythm begins to synchronize with hers, claiming every part of her being.

Five begins to move with a cadence that admits no retreat. The sound of their bodies meeting is the only thing breaking the silence. He enjoys the beautiful sight—her breasts dancing with every thrust and her intimacy claiming his manhood. He massages her clitoris to push her to the edge.

Lila moans uncontrollably; every time he sinks into her, a sigh escapes her lips, and she whispers his name like a plea. However, hearing herself so exposed and vulnerable, a wave of shyness invades her. Overwhelmed by the intensity, in a reflex of embarrassment, she tries to cover her face with her hands.

Five notices immediately. He does not allow her to hide.

With a fluid movement, he grabs her wrists, still bound, and firmly places them around his own neck, forcing her to embrace him while he continues claiming her. Five does not slow his rhythm; on the contrary, he seems to feed off her reaction. He leans toward her ear, breathing heavily, and asks:

“What’s wrong? Don’t you like it?”

Lila tries to respond, but pleasure has completely clouded her mind. The words break before leaving her throat.

“It’s just that this…” she manages to stammer, glancing toward the lamp. “With the light on…”

Five stops for a second, just long enough to force her to hold his gaze. The warm light of the room highlights every curve of her body and every trace of her emotion.

“You’re beautiful, Lila,” he tells her with a sincerity that disarms her. “Don’t hide. I want to see your face. I want to see exactly how your beautiful face reacts to what I’m doing to you.”

He resumes moving, watching with fascination every spasm of pleasure in her features, delighting in the way her eyes roll back and how she bites her lower lip as he pushes her, step by step, beyond the limit.

He wraps his arms around Lila’s body, holding her tightly against him in a possessive, burning embrace. The movement does not stop; it is a constant tide that drags them both away from reality.

Lila calls his name again and again, her voice a fragile thread broken by emotion.

“Five… " It’s too much,” she manages between gasps. “It’s too intense.”

The overload of sensations is so strong that a pair of involuntary tears appears in her eyes, sliding down her cheeks. Seeing them, Five does not panic; he understands it is the overflow of pleasure she cannot contain. He wipes the tears with his lips, drinking in her emotion, and then finds her mouth in a deep, needy kiss. Their tongues dance with electric familiarity, separating only long enough to breathe before merging again.

Without stopping, he claims her neck. He buries himself in that curve of her skin, intoxicated by her unique scent. He marks his territory with wet kisses and soft bites, claiming her as his.

Lila clings to him tightly, digging her fingers into his back, anchoring herself to him as the world seems to dissolve. In that instant, she feels Five’s hands grip her butt firmly, his fingers sinking into her curves with a force that makes her arch and release a choked moan, surrendering completely to the final rhythm he imposes.

The air in the room vibrates with electric energy as Five increases the intensity and pace, setting a powerful cadence that echoes through the silent house. Lila feels her senses on the verge of collapse; she knows she cannot endure much more and clings to Five with delicious desperation.

“I love it! I love it, Five!” she says again and again, her voice dissolving into the rustle of the sheets.

In that instant of total surrender, Lila reaches orgasm. It is her second orgasm of the night, but the first one a man has given her.

Her body trembles in spasms of pure pleasure, tightening around him as the tide carries her away.

Five understands that Lila is extremely sensitive after the climax; he stops moving for a moment, wanting simply to enjoy the warmth of her body and hold her while she catches her breath.

However, in the midst of that apparent vulnerability, Lila manages to free herself from the restraints. With the agility that defines her, she undoes the belt knot without Five noticing. He remains immersed in the moment, his hands traveling from her butt up along her waist to her back, enjoying the softness of her skin and her hypnotic warmth. Five groans, closing his eyes at the peace and desire overwhelming him.

Lila takes advantage of the distraction to change the rules of the game. With a quick, coordinated movement, she pushes him. Completely caught off guard, Five falls onto his back against the mattress, staring at the ceiling with wide eyes. Lila pulls away briefly, tracing circles across his chest with her fingers.

“When did you free yourself from the restraint?” Five asks, breathing heavily, caught between confusion and fascination.

“That’s nothing for me, old man,” Lila replies with a smug smile.

Without giving him time to react, she positions herself above him, caressing his penis with a softness that makes him tense. She knows perfectly well he is not finished yet. Carefully and skillfully, she removes the used condom and takes a new one from the strip Klaus left in her bag. She puts it on with her mouth, maintaining eye contact with Five the entire time.

Five groans again and again, burying his hands in the sheets. Now it is Lila who has absolute control, driving him insane with every expert movement, determined to push him to the edge of his own endurance.

Lila’s mouth does not linger long; she is not trying to finish him there. She only wants to provoke him, push him to the edge of the abyss, and watch his composure crumble.

With a fluid, dominant movement, she positions herself above him. She looks directly into his eyes, her gaze full of fire and triumph. She takes his member in her hand, guiding it precisely to her entrance, and lowers herself onto him in one deep stroke.

Lila is extremely sensitive, her body vibrating at the fullness of their union.

Five, for his part, closes his eyes and lets himself be carried away completely; Lila is so hot and wet that every inch of skin seems to melt.

Lila begins to ride him, setting a frantic rhythm that makes the bed creak.

“You always look like you’re better than everyone else, Five…” she says between breaths, with a defiant smile. “But here and now, in this bed, I’m the one in control.”

Five groans, burying his hands in the sheets before sliding them upward to grip her breasts firmly, following each rise and fall. Despite the pleasure clouding his mind, he manages to ask:

“Do you really… really see me that way?”

Lila says nothing. Instead of answering with words, she accelerates boldly. She seeks her own pleasure desperately, but her movements are calculated, so Five enjoys every second of the friction. Their hips, in perfect synchronization gradually reach a devastating, delicious rhythm.

“I can’t… I can’t hold back any longer, Lila,” Five confesses, muscles tense, gaze lost in her eyes, feeling the end seconds away.

Lila leans forward until she is inches from his face and asks hesitantly, her voice heavy with passion and lust:

“Are you going to give me everything, Five? Everything?”

Lila kisses him fiercely, seeking an answer not only in his words.

When they part, Five does not respond verbally; his eyes lock onto hers with fierce intensity, confirming he will hold nothing back.

Five arches his back forcefully, thrusting upward while Lila presses her hands against his shoulders to keep her balance. The rhythm becomes erratic, desperate—a collision of skin and desire that erases all logic. Lila throws her head back, exposing her neck, while her internal muscles contract rhythmically around him, triggering the final reaction.

“Everything, Lila!” Five growls, finally losing that composure that irritates her so much.

The explosion arrives like an unstoppable tide. Lila reaches her third orgasm of the night, an expansive wave that makes her tremble from head to toe while clinging to Five’s shoulders. Almost simultaneously, Five tenses completely, releasing a deep, prolonged groan that echoes through the walls. He gives himself entirely, pouring all his energy and essence into her, in an act of absolute surrender that leaves them both breathless.

Silence returns abruptly, broken only by their heavy breathing and the wild pounding of two hearts trying to return to normal.

Lila collapses slowly onto Five’s chest, sweaty and exhausted, while he wraps his arms around her.

They remain like that, fused in the darkness, enjoying the weight of each other.

The morning light invades the room without asking permission.

Lila wakes slowly, with that strange feeling of not being entirely sure where she is. Five’s body surrounds her waist, firm, warm, as if even in sleep, he refuses to let her go.

She blinks.

Then everything returns at once.

The night.

The hotel.

The hours that unraveled one after another.

She barely slept at all… four times.

And not just any four times. The best of her life.

She swallows.

She never imagined the old man would be such a good lover.

…Lover?

The word startles her.

No. Not that.

It was just a one-night thing.

Wasn’t it?

Five does not seem like the kind of man who gets tangled with girls for just one night. Nor does he seem like someone who, after that, would ask for a relationship. Her mind begins to spin too fast, building scenarios she does not want to face.

Chaos settles in.

She searches for her phone with her eyes. She finds it on the nightstand. She picks it up carefully, trying not to move too much. Five sleeps deeply, breathing steadily, his arm still wrapped around her.

She quickly writes a message to her father, assuring him she is fine.

The reply comes fast.

Her father mentions they have a family commitment.

Perfect.

That way, when she gets home, her parents will not be there. She can take a long shower, wash away that persistent smell of sex… and guilt.

Five moves. He holds her tighter, as if he sensed her intention to escape.

Lila freezes.

She thinks Five could easily have been the type of guy who leaves after sex. Who disappears before dawn. But he did not. He stayed. And now he clings to her even in sleep.

That… is uncomfortable.

She turns her head slightly and looks at him.

Without his usual frown, his face looks peaceful. Relaxed. His long lashes make him look almost adorable, dangerously human.

“Damn it…” she whispers to herself.

She remembers suddenly what she said in the heat of the moment. That she loved him. But not like that. Not like that. She meant what he was doing to her, how he made her feel.

What if Five thinks she… likes him?

The thought makes her tense.

She tries to separate slowly to go to the bathroom. She barely moves a few inches when he tightens his hold, murmuring something unintelligible and pressing his face against her neck.

“Five…” she whispers carefully.

Nothing.

She sighs.

There is no elegant escape.

Only one option remains.

Wake him.

She brushes his shoulder gently, barely a whisper.

“Five… wake up.”

He makes a low sound, halfway between a growl and childish refusal. He blinks, disoriented, and when he focuses on her, his expression sharpens with almost immediate clarity.

“What’s wrong?”

“The hotel is far from my house,” she says quietly. “I need to go back now.”

Five rises slightly, still half asleep, and shakes his head as if the very idea is absurd.

“I’ll take you.”

“Five…”

“No,” he interrupts firmly. “You can’t risk taking public transportation with a torn blouse.”

Lila presses her lips together. She curses internally. She had completely forgotten.

He stretches like a lazy cat, arms above his head, muscles tensing with irritating calm, almost provocative. Then he reaches for the room phone and dials without asking permission.

“Room service,” he says clearly. “Full breakfast. For two.”

Lila covers her face with her hands and lets out a sigh that is half nervous laughter, half surrender.

The sex was indecently perfect. But the damn man is a damn obsessive control freak… or… is he just being kind?

The doubt tightens in her chest. She is afraid to ask what they are now. If she does, he might think she expects a relationship, that she wants more. She does not want that. So she postpones the question, keeps it like a thorn under her tongue.

She gets out of bed and wraps herself in the sheet, hiding her nakedness. Five watches her, amused, and lets out a brief laugh.

“That shouldn’t be necessary,” he says. “I’ve already seen all of you.”

She runs to the bathroom and locks herself in, leaning her back against the door. She closes her eyes, breathing deeply. What the hell did she get herself into?

The breakfast arrives just as Lila leaves the bathroom. Her hair is still wet, droplets sliding down her neck and disappearing beneath the bathrobe.

Five opens the door.

He is wearing only underwear.

The room service boy freezes for a fraction of a second. His gaze shifts awkwardly, uncomfortable, barely professional.

Not a regular customer, Lila thinks with irony and secondhand embarrassment.

“Thank you,” Five says, as if nothing is unusual.

He takes the tray, checks the order mechanically, and pulls out his wallet. He leaves a generous tip. Too generous. The boy nods gratefully and leaves almost with relief.

The door closes.

Lila exhales deeply.

In the daylight, the room reveals itself fully. Marble, dark wood, wide windows, expensive textiles. Everything is elegant, silent, excessively luxurious. Not an improvised place.

She sits at the table.

The breakfast could belong to a Michelin-star restaurant: perfectly cut fruit, artisan bread, eggs, aromatic coffee served in fine porcelain. Too much for a morning, she still does not understand.

She watches Five put his wallet away.

She knows he is somewhat older than her. But it is not just that. His brilliant mind, his work—what little she knows—his car, this hotel… everything fits. Five is not only intelligent; he has resources.

The doubt pierces her suddenly.

Does he think she is interested in his money?

That she slept with him for it?

Or worse… for a bet?

Five sits across from her. He watches her carefully, notices her tension, her discomfort. He frowns slightly and decides to downplay it.

“Eat,” he says, gesturing at the table. “It’ll get cold.”

Lila nods without looking at him.

“Yes.”

He lifts his coffee cup and adds casually:

“I’ll lend you my jacket to take you home.”

Lila does not respond. Not because she does not want to, but because she does not know how to interpret any of this.

They both begin to eat.

The silence settles between them, thick and contained. It is not uncomfortable for lack of words, but for everything that neither dares to ask.

During the drive home, Lila curses herself internally over and over again.

A fifth time.

She does not understand at what point, after breakfast, that happened. It simply did. A gesture, a glance, a hand that does not pull away… and suddenly she is lost again, begging for more, as if her self-control had completely evaporated.

A damn desperate woman.

She presses her lips together and glances at Five from the corner of her eye. He drives calmly, one hand steady on the wheel, posture relaxed. He does not seem uncomfortable. Nor confused. Nor regretful.

That unsettles her even more.

“Do I turn here?” he asks, breaking the silence.

“Yes… to the right,” she replies, looking back at the road.

She gives him brief directions. Too brief. The rest of the trip passes in a silence heavy with thoughts neither of them voices.

The car stops in front of her house.

“Thank you,” Lila says. “For bringing me.”

She does not know what else to add. She has never been in a situation like this. Not after something that feels so intense… and so undefined.

Still holding the handle, almost by reflex, she adds:

“If you want… You can come in. That way, I can return your jacket. So you don’t have to wait until Monday.”

Five turns off the engine.

The click of the car shutting off echoes in her head. Lila wonders why she said that just as she inserts the key into the lock.

She knows her parents are not home, but she announces herself anyway.

“Mom, Dad… I’m back.”

A clumsy plan to mislead Five. She is not sure what exactly.

“Come in,” she says, trying to sound normal. “Do you want… coffee?”

Five nods and steps inside.

He looks around carefully. The place has something he did not expect: warmth. In the living room, family photos cover the walls. Laughter frozen in time. The environment radiates love, safety, and belonging.

Home.

He sits at the kitchen table while she tries to be a good host.

Lila opens drawers, checks the refrigerator.

What do you offer a rich boy?

Nothing seems enough. Nothing seems right.

Then she remembers.

“I made donuts yesterday…” she says, taking them out. “It’s nothing special.”

She turns on the coffee maker. She serves both and brings them to the table.

“Sorry, it’s simple,” she adds.

Five takes a bite of the donuts.

“When I was little, I used to sneak out of the house to buy donuts behind my father’s back.”

He tastes the coffee.

“It’s better than the hotel’s,” he says sincerely.

That makes her smile slightly.

While he drinks, Five glances at the refrigerator board. Notes are written in colored marker: schedules, reminders, and family commitments.

“It seems they left without you,” he comments.

“Maybe I’ll catch up with them later,” Lila replies quickly, defensively.

She stands and takes the board to write something new.

As she does, a photograph slips from behind it and falls to the floor, right at Five’s feet.

He picks it up without thinking.

In the image, Lila is kissing a man. Both smiling. It is an intimate photo. Too intimate.

Five tenses.

Her boyfriend?

It is obvious—Lila is beautiful, brilliant, and clever. He hands her the photo, his gaze hardening. Five feels used.

Lila takes the photograph.

Her expression changes instantly. It is no surprise. It is pure rage, contained for too long.

“My mom forgot to remove this,” she says through clenched teeth.

Without hesitation, she tears the photo into pieces. One. Another. Another. She throws them into the sink, opens a drawer, grabs a bottle of whiskey, and splashes the remains carelessly. Then she flicks a lighter.

The flames consume the paper.

Five watches in silence.

It is obvious there is nothing between them anymore. That reassures him. But Lila’s reaction… that is something else. The man hurt her.

“It’s time for me to go,” he finally says, standing up.

Lila nods.

“Wait,” she says. “I’ll return your jacket.”

She walks to her room while the silence settles again, heavier than before.

When she returns, they look at each other. Lila hands him the jacket.

Something hangs in the air, a question neither dares to ask. He holds the jacket in his hands. She remains still, as if a single movement could break the fragile balance.

Suddenly, the house phone begins to ring.

Once.

Again.

Again.

Neither moves. The answering machine activates on its own.

“Ronnie, stop calling the house,” Anita’s voice says, clearly annoyed. “If she’s not answering, there’s a reason.”

Lila closes her eyes as she recognizes her.

“Anita, I’m just being cautious,” Ronnie replies. “I’ve tried calling her cell.”

“Maybe she’s busy,” Anita answers, her tone loaded with meaning.

“I’ve already left several voicemails and texts,” Ronnie continues. “This is just extra.”

“Stop beating around the bush,” Anita cuts him off.

There is a brief silence, then Ronnie’s voice becomes more direct.

“We’ll be staying all weekend at the family gathering.”

Anita laughs softly.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. We know you have school responsibilities, you don’t have to come,” she adds. “Just lock the house properly at night. No wild parties… and please don’t live off fast food.”

“We know you,” Ronnie says, amused.

They both laugh.

“We’ll see you Monday afternoon,” Anita says.

“We love you,” Ronnie adds.

The call ends with a dry beep.

Silence falls again, heavier than before.

Five looks at Lila. Something in her expression has changed. Less irony. More openness.

“Your parents seem… nice,” he says finally. “But I should go.”

She nods without thinking, but when he takes a step toward the door, her body reacts before her mind.

By reflex, Lila reaches out and takes Five’s hand.

The contact is immediate. The world seems to stop again.

“Stay,” she says, almost in a whisper. “For the weekend.”

Five lowers his gaze to their intertwined hands. He does not pull away. His expression is restrained, calculated… but his fingers close slightly tighter around hers.

“Lila…” he begins cautiously.

She raises her face.

“I’m not asking for anything else,” she adds quickly. “Just… stay.”

Five watches her in silence. In his mind, variables accumulate, risks align, and consequences are analyzed. But there is something in that house, in that voice, in that hand holding his, that dismantles even his logic.

He exhales slowly.

“You’re dangerous,” he finally says, with a tired half-smile.

Lila arches a brow.

“I’ve always been.”

Five does not let go of her hand.

Amazingly, the weekend passes slowly.

Not because of emptiness, but because of density. Every hour stretches, as if time itself has decided to watch them with curiosity, in no hurry to move forward.

They share every moment of the day.

Lila notices it with uncomfortable clarity: Diego never had that much time for her. There was always an excuse, an urgent message, a postponed promise. With Five, there are no excuses. He is there. Present. Attentive. Constant.

And it is no longer just one-night sex.

Lila’s house becomes a silent witness to an unleashed, intense, inevitable passion. There is not a single space that does not hold the echo of their bodies seeking each other. Lila stops thinking, stops measuring, stops comparing. She simply lets herself be carried away.

She feels how Five’s kisses, his calculated and voracious caresses, erase the traces of Diego one by one. Not as forced forgetting, but as natural replacement. Something new fills the place of what was already broken.

But not everything is fire.

There are comfortable silences too.

They cook together, clumsy at first, laughing when something burns or tastes bland. They sit at the table with notebooks open, each focused on their work, exchanging dry comments, knowing glances, small corrections that feel intimate without being so.

That unsettles her more than the desire.

Sunday slowly fades.

During the early hours of Monday morning, Five moves carefully, as if he does not want to wake her. Even so, Lila senses his absence before opening her eyes.

“I have to go,” he says quietly. “I have classes in a couple of hours.”

She nods, half asleep, not fully understanding the weight of those words.

“Okay…”

Five watches her for a second longer than necessary.

And he leaves.

When Lila wakes up, the emptiness is immediate.

The house is silent. Too big. Too still.

Five did not tell her if they would see each other later. There were no promises, no plans. Just a clean, precise… final goodbye.

The weekend ended.

And with it, perhaps, everything that happened between them.

Lila sits on the bed, takes a deep breath, and decides not to overthink it. Thinking too much has always been her worst enemy. If she stays there, analyzing every gesture, every glance, she will only hurt herself.

So she stands.

Moves forward.

She tells herself it was real while it lasted.

The afternoon break feels overwhelming.

Lila walks across campus with the persistent feeling that something does not fit. She has not seen any of her friends. Not Jayme, not Klaus, not even Viktor. And not Five either.

That last one bothers her more than she is willing to admit.

She gets annoyed with herself for thinking about him again. For allowing her mind to return, again and again, to that weekend, she decided to bury under the word move on.

She arrives at the campus cafeteria.

The constant murmur, the clatter of trays, and the smell of coffee and hot food surround her. She scans the room looking for her friends. Nothing. Maybe they still have hangovers from the party, she thinks with irony.

She takes her lunch and sits at one of the tables, alone. She eats slowly, more out of habit than hunger.

Then someone sits beside her.

Lila looks up.

It is Five.

For a second, she barely recognizes him. He is not wearing his usual suits, nor the impeccable coat that makes him look out of place on campus. Now he wears dark jeans, a simple shirt, and a light jacket. He could pass for any guy… if not for his eyes.

That never changes.

“Hi,” he says.

Lila blinks, surprised.

“Hi…”

Five studies her carefully, as if he has been looking for her for hours.

“Where were you all day?” he asks.

She shrugs, trying to sound casual.

“In class. Nothing special.”

Five frowns. There is something tense in his posture, a contained impatience she already knows too well.

“I was looking for you,” he says. “All day.”

She sets her fork down and looks at him more closely.

“Why?”

Five exhales in frustration, running a hand through his hair, messing it slightly.

“Because we need to talk.”

That sparks her curiosity. Lila tilts her head, studying him.

“Talk about what?”

Five stays silent for a moment. He watches her as if weighing every word before releasing it.

Then he says it, directly, without hesitation.

“I want to know what we are. You and me.”

The question hangs between them, heavy, impossible to ignore.

Lila feels her stomach turn. Her first instinct is to laugh, but she cannot. Not this time. She watches him, trying to decipher whether there is reproach, expectation, or a simple need for clarity in his voice.

“Five…” she murmurs. “Why are you asking that now?”

“Because what happened between us,” he replies seriously.

Lila swallows.

“It was… a weekend,” she answers, more defensive than she intends.

The noise of the cafeteria seems to fade. Lila feels the chaos she thought she controlled settle again in her chest.

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” she finally says. “But I’m not asking you for anything.”

“I just need to know if it meant something… or if I was just a way for you to forget someone else.”

The implied reference hits her hard.

Lila holds his gaze, proud, vulnerable, confused.

“I didn’t use you,” she says firmly. “But I don’t know what we’re supposed to be now either.”

Five nods slowly.

Lila watches him closely and decides to take the simplest, safest path.

“Try not to give it too much importance,” she says quietly. “It was just sex.”

The words land like a slap.

Five tightens his jaw. His eyes darken.

“Just sex?” he replies, controlled. “Just sex doesn’t mean spending an entire weekend together, Lila. It doesn’t mean cooking, sleeping, waking up… living together.”

She sighs, tired. She does not want to fight, but she does not want to lie either.

“We had fun,” she admits. “I enjoy being with you. It’s… easy. But there’s nothing more.”

Five remains silent.

One second.

Two.

The noise of the cafeteria creeps back in around them. Finally, he looks away, clearly upset, as if recalculating something he does not like at all.

At that moment, a voice interrupts from nearby.

“I’m telling you, the entrance comes in ahead of the rhythm,” Viktor says, frustrated. “The music doesn’t breathe like that.”

“I’m not rewriting the entire play for one melody!” Allison responds, scandalized. “The scene needs impact.”

They both arrive at the table, immersed in their argument, not immediately noticing the tension that had existed seconds before.

“If you don’t adjust the text, the music loses meaning,” Viktor insists.

“And since when do you command dramaturgy?” Allison shoots back.

They sit down naturally, as if Five and Lila were not in the middle of something important.

Lila blinks, disoriented.

Five says nothing.

Gradually, as if it were the most normal thing in the world, the others begin to arrive. Ben appears with his tray, Klaus drops into a chair, and soon more of the group joins them. The table fills with voices, laughter, and trivial comments.

The conversation drifts between anecdotes, complaints about classes, and inside jokes.

Five remains silent, serious, watching everyone as if he still has not decided whether he belongs there.

Until Klaus looks him up and down, smiles mischievously, and says:

“So… does this mean Five is officially part of the group now? Because I have to say it—you look surprisingly cool today.”

Several glances turn toward Five.

Lila watches him from the corner of her eye.

He raises an eyebrow slightly.

“I don’t know if that’s a compliment or a threat,” he replies.

Klaus laughs.

“Definitely a compliment.”

Ben leans back in his chair and looks Five up and down shamelessly.

“It must be said,” he says with a half-smile. “You no longer look like you have something shoved up your ass.”

Laughter erupts around the table.

Lila cannot help but laugh, too.

Luther clears his throat, uncomfortable but sincere.

“Uh… yeah. You look good, Five. More relaxed.”

Five presses his lips together. Lila’s laughter does not go unnoticed. He lifts his chin, clearly irritated, and responds with calculated coldness:

“The girl I like said she loves my casual look.”

The silence lasts barely a second.

Lila goes rigid.

She realizes too late that Five is talking about her.

Sloane tilts her head, curious.

“So… did you go to the party?”

“Yes,” Five replies. “Only for a while. I met a girl there, and what had to happen happened.”

Viktor laughs.

“Then you’re safe from the curse.”

“Was it a one-night thing or is she your girlfriend?” Klaus asks, eyes gleaming mischievously.

Five does not answer.

Klaus bursts out laughing.

“Wow. The genius got rejected.”

“What idiot would reject Five?” Jayme adds. “He’s drowning in money.”

Lila frowns.

Allison shoots Jayme a look.

“Is that all you see?”

Jayme shrugs.

“I’m young. I wouldn’t mind a rich guy spoiling me and treating me well.”

Klaus looks at Lila carefully.

“Hey… why are you so quiet?”

“Maybe she has the curse,” Ben jokes.

“It’s not the curse,” Lila says dryly.

“Come on,” Jayme says. “You’re a good girl. You wouldn’t get involved with someone like that.”

Lila opens her mouth, furious, ready to respond… but stops.

Fei appears beside the table, speaking into her radio.

“West zone closed,” she says seriously. “Repeat, west zone closed.”

She puts the radio away and greets the group with a nod.

“What happened?” Luther asks.

“An accident. They closed a section of campus.”

Klaus crosses himself dramatically.

“It’s the curse.”

Lila swallows.

“Is it real?”

Everyone nods.

Even Five.

“Of course it’s real,” he says.

A chill runs down her spine.

Sloane tilts her head, that mischievous smile appearing again.

“So… if Lila escaped the curse, it means something happened that night.”

Silence falls instantly over the table.

Lila does not respond. She tightens her jaw, shoulders tense, gaze fixed on her tray as if she could pierce through it.

Sloane is the first to react.

“Oh, Lila… we’re sorry,” she says softly. “Sometimes people can be really insensitive.”

“Yeah,” Luther adds. “Not everyone knows how to treat someone properly.”

Lila stands abruptly. The chair scrapes loudly against the floor.

“I don’t need to talk about that.”

She grabs her backpack and walks away without looking back.

Klaus watches her leave and shrugs.

“She’ll get over it. Maybe the guy lasted ten minutes and left her frustrated.”

Viktor frowns.

“Or maybe he stirred up things from her ex.”

Five, who has remained silent, looks up with interest.

“What does that mean?”

Allison hesitates.

“I don’t want to give too many details… but Lila had a bad experience in her last relationship.”

Jayme shows no shame.

“The bastard cheated on her. That’s why she moved.”

Sloane scolds her immediately.

“Jayme! Five doesn’t need to know that.”

But it is too late.

Five heard every word.

He says nothing, but something settles in his mind with uncomfortable clarity.

So that’s it.

That’s why she resists.

Lila walks quickly along the campus path, as if the concrete could swallow her if she stops for too long.

It doesn’t matter. She repeats it. Again and again. Like a mantra.

She tightens the strap of her backpack and lifts her chin.

“It’s nothing,” she murmurs to herself. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

But her chest burns.

Five remains a few steps behind, without trying to catch up to her. He watches her like someone analyzing an unstable equation: he knows that if he intervenes at the wrong moment, everything collapses. Even so, he doesn’t leave.

“Lila,” he finally says, his voice low, measured. “Wait.”

She stops, but she doesn’t turn around.

“Don’t follow me,” she replies. “It’s already clear. We’re nothing. You continue with your brilliant life, and I continue with mine.”

Five frowns. Not out of pride. Out of something more dangerous: understanding.

Lila turns then. Her eyes are dry, but sharp.

He takes a step closer, without invading her space.

Silence.

Lila feels something break, very slowly. She doesn’t want to explain herself. She doesn’t want to admit that it matters to her that he doesn’t stay, that he can leave without looking back, that for him everything seems so… controlled.

“I don’t need you,” she says, softer, almost as if convincing herself. “You’re not mine. I don’t want you to be.”

Five watches her carefully.

Lila looks away. The wind moves her hair, and for a second, she wishes she were someone else. Someone who doesn’t care. Someone who doesn’t feel that uncomfortable pull in her stomach when he’s close.

“Go, Five,” she finally says. “Pretend this never happened.”

He nods slowly. He doesn’t argue. He doesn’t insist.

He walks away.

Lila remains alone on the path, with the uncomfortable certainty that saying I don’t care hasn’t made it disappear.

It has only made it more real.

The weeks pass with a deceptive slowness.

Lila learns to measure her steps, to anticipate hallways, schedules, corners of the campus where she might run into Five… and even so, it happens.

It always happens.

In the cafeteria.

In the gardens.

In the faculty hallways.

Brief encounters, silent, uncomfortable for her.

Five, on the other hand, seems more and more integrated. She sees him laugh with Klaus, argue about something absurd with Ben, and listen patiently to Viktor. Even Luther pats his shoulder as if they were old acquaintances. Five doesn’t do anything extraordinary… he simply exists.

That irritates her more than she wants to admit.

“It doesn’t matter,” she tells herself each time. “It shouldn’t.”

But it doesn't matter.

One afternoon, the library is almost full. Lila occupies her usual spot, books open. She looks up without thinking and sees him.

Five is several tables away, focused, surrounded by notes. His brow furrowed. The world reduced to equations and tiny letters. He looks… calm.

Then it happens.

A blonde girl approaches him. She leans over the table, smiles, and says something Lila doesn’t hear. Five looks up and responds politely. He doesn’t smile, but he doesn’t ignore her either.

Something tightens in Lila’s chest.

It isn’t jealousy.

It can’t be.

It’s nothing.

Even so, she stands up.

She gathers all her things quickly. She walks before thinking too much. The impulse pushes her, direct, reckless. She stops beside Five’s table and places her hand over his notes.

“Hey,” she says, looking at Five. “We were waiting for you.”

The blonde blinks, confused.

“Group work,” Lila adds with a tense smile. “We’re late.”

The girl frowns, looks at Five for confirmation. He looks at her for a second… and then nods.

“Yes,” he says simply.

The blonde clicks her tongue, clearly annoyed.

She turns around and leaves.

The silence that remains is thick.

Five closes his notebook calmly and looks up at Lila.

“What was that?”

She swallows. Suddenly, her courage slips through her fingers.

“I…” she breathes deeply. “I’ve been thinking.”

He doesn’t say anything. He waits. He tilts his head, attentive.

“We could…” she hesitates. “We could be friends. With benefits…” She pauses briefly. “But exclusive.”

The silence stretches. Lila feels her pulse in her ears. She’s sure she sounds absurd. Or pathetic.

Five watches her for a long moment. There’s no mockery. No irony.

She crosses her arms, defensive.

“It doesn’t mean I want a relationship.”

Five leans forward slightly.

She looks at him. Something loosens. Something hurts less.

“So…” she murmurs. “What do you say?”

Five smiles faintly. Not triumphant. Not confident. Something more honest.

“I can accept your rules.”

Lila nods, feeling a strange mixture of relief and vertigo.

It isn’t anything serious.

She repeats it.

Chapter Text

Lila sets the rules from the very beginning.

She sets the rules with a crooked smile, pretending nothing matters. Sitting across from Five, she crosses her legs and speaks as if the negotiation is trivial.

“No feelings,” she says. “None of that.”

Five does not take long to respond. He does not hesitate. He does not ask questions.

“I will never love you.”

The sentence lands dry and calculated, just like him.

And, against all odds, that relaxes Lila.

Because that means control. It means safety. It means there will be no promises, no expectations, no tragic endings. Just bodies that seek each other when they want to and separate when they do not.

With the group of friends, everything flows better after that. Laughter comes easier, and conversations feel more natural. No one suspects anything. There are no lingering looks or revealing gestures. They are just Five and Lila, as they have always been: shared sarcasm, dangerous complicity, chemistry no one names.

They do not reveal their relationship. There is no need to.

But time passes.

And Lila begins to notice things.

Five is no longer the same.

Before, he is sharp, present, brutally honest in the way he exists. Now… now he feels like a shadow. Always one second late. Always staring at something she cannot see. He speaks less. Observes more. Measures every word as if it is a trap.

“He is not a man,” Lila thinks, “and he is certainly not honest.”

He is being suspicious, and he does not even know how to curse without sounding false. Sometimes he opens his mouth and what comes out is not him, but an old, rigid echo, as if he is imitating someone else.

Lila thinks he sounds like he is trying to imitate his father.

“Who are you?” she asks him one night, without preamble.

Five looks up. His eyes do not quite meet hers.

“Does it matter?”

Lila clenches her jaw. Yes, it matters. It matters because that Five—the one standing in front of her—is not the one who said he would never love her. This one is someone else. Someone who hides things. Someone who builds lies too easily.

He is bad at expressing his feelings.

But he is a good liar.

Too good.

He lies without blinking. He lies with a calm that is frightening. And the worst part is that, if it were anyone else, the change would annoy Lila. But no. He is no longer the pretentious idiot who thought himself superior to everyone. He no longer acts as if the world owes him something.

Now he carries something invisible.

And Lila feels it.

She does not fully understand it, but she feels it in her chest, in the way his name weighs differently when she says it, in how her body reacts even when her mind insists this was not supposed to be like this.

Because what they agreed on was not this.

Their friends-with-benefits relationship is not about midnight calls just to hear the other breathe. It is not about long silences shared in the same room. It is not about worrying when Five disappears for hours, or recognizing his footsteps without looking.

It is not only about seeing each other occasionally to have sex.

It goes beyond that.

And Lila hates admitting it.

Because she is the one who asked for no feelings.

And Five promised he would never love her.

But now he is a shadow, a mystery who lies too well…

And still, when he looks at her, something in his eyes seems to beg her to truly see him.

That is the most dangerous part of all, because Five keeps lying.

Not with big words or promises. He lies with surgical precision, with intelligence. He disguises dates as simple “coincidences” and gifts as “something useful.” A book she just happens to need. A coat was left on her chair because it is cold.

“We just ran into each other,” he says, as if reading her mind.

Lila accepts that version because it suits her.

Because it gives her a clean, orderly, safe psychological exit.

It is not a date.

It is not romantic.

It does not mean anything.

And Five knows it.

That is why he never crosses that line openly. He never waits for her with flowers. He never takes her by the arm in front of others. Everything happens on the margins, in the gaps between words, in shared silences that cannot be explained.

The sex remains intense, constant. Not desperate, not clumsy. Precise. Conscious. Lila feels it differently from the first night. There is no possible comparison. From that moment on, she decides something with brutal clarity: Diego ceases to exist in that space.

Five erases every trace of him without saying a word.

He does not compete. He does not boast. He does not ask.

He does not demand, does not push, does not claim her.

That is what unsettles her the most.

His gestures are silent, constant, respectful. A hand on her back when no one is looking. A glass of water left on the table before she asks for it. His jacket over her shoulders without any comment.

“You don’t have to stay,” she says.

Still, he always stays.

Five acts as if he feels nothing, as if everything is mechanical, casual, accidental. He is bad at expressing emotions and clumsy when it comes to naming what happens between them. But he is a brilliant liar.

Too brilliant.

He lies when he says he is just passing by.

He lies when he says he does not care.

He lies when he pretends he is not watching her while she laughs with others.

Lila notices, even though she chooses not to confront him.

Because as long as he lies like this, as long as he disguises affection as usefulness and desire as coincidence, she can keep telling herself this will not break her.

That is not love.

That it is not dangerous.

That it does not go further.

But their friends-with-benefits relationship is no longer limited to bodies seeking each other in the dark. It seeps into the everyday. Into routine. Into that silent way in which Five is always there… without fully being there.

Lila feels something tighten in her chest every time Five leaves first.

Because he keeps lying.

And she keeps accepting it.

Because that lie is the only thing holding everything together.

The semesters move forward slowly, comfortably.

Fei and Alphonso have already graduated, but they still linger around campus as if they still belong there, waiting for a job offer that does not sound mediocre. They arrive with cheap coffee and sarcastic comments, offering moral support to those still carrying final exams. Markus and Christopher are going through their last year, with dark circles under their eyes and notes highlighted to exhaustion.

Lila, for her part, divides her days between part-time classes for high school girls and these chaotic afternoons. When her parents go out on romantic dates, and the library fills up, her house officially becomes open for study sessions.

Today is one of those days.

Allison occupies the large couch. Klaus moves barefoot through the living room, talking too loudly. Viktor studies in silence, focused. Luther and Sloane sit together. Jayme shares a drink with Ben. Markus and Christopher argue over formulas. Fei and Alphonso stay close—not to study, but to keep company.

And, of course, Five is there. Constant. Silent. As if he has always belonged to that space.

The hours pass among turning pages, falling pencils, and collective sighs. Little by little, the house begins to empty. Promises to see each other soon, backpacks over shoulders, doors closing softly.

“We’ll text,” someone says from the hallway.

“Don’t stress so much,” Fei adds, lifting her hand in farewell.

In the end, silence falls.

Only Five remains.

Lila leans against the kitchen doorway and lets out a slow sigh. She feels it before she thinks it. He does not get up. He does not pretend to be in a hurry. He does not look for excuses.

He decides to stay.

Lila allows it.

She moves through the house naturally, putting away cups, arranging abandoned books. Five watches her from the table, with that dangerous attention that does not quite look like emotion, but not indifference either.

Five sits on the couch for more comfort, with pages full of notes, the rhythmic sound of Five’s pencil tapping the paper when he stops to think. Lila joins him, studies lying on her side, chin resting on her hand, watching him without shame. There is something strangely intimate about sharing silence with him.

The phone vibrates.

Lila picks it up without thinking, reads the message… and her smile appears immediately. Wide. Alive. Almost adolescent. An invitation to play. It has been so long since she played the drums in front of an audience that the idea makes her skin prickle.

But the smile does not last long.

Something in the next text extinguishes it. Her shoulders tense. Her lips press together.

Five notices instantly.

“What happened?”

She hesitates for a second before answering.

“I was invited to play at a show,” she says. “The drummer and the guitarist are sick. Food poisoning, apparently.”

She grimaces, half annoyance, half resignation.

“It sounds good…” she continues. “But it’s not so good.”

Five sets the pencil aside.

“Why?”

“Because even if I accept, the band wouldn’t be complete. There’s no guitarist.”

Five watches her closely. There is disappointment in her voice, but also something else: that restrained spark that appears every time music crosses her path.

“Where is it?” he asks.

Lila gives him the directions. The name. The area. The specific details.

Five frowns immediately.

“It’s a very dangerous place.”

He does not say it as a gentle warning, but as a fact.

Lila shrugs.

“I know.”

Five adds nothing for a second. Then he speaks, as if he had already made the decision even before she finished talking.

“I’ll take you.”

Lila looks at him, surprised… and makes an involuntary pout.

“Even if we go, the problem stays the same,” she says. “There’s no guitarist.”

Five lets out a short, almost amused snort.

“You’re lucky I know how to play.”

The effect is immediate.

Lila’s eyes light up as if someone has turned on a light inside her. She straightens, looks at him in disbelief first… and then with a slow, dangerous smile.

“Are you serious?”

“I’m always serious,” Five replies. “I just don’t usually announce it.”

She laughs, low and genuine. The kind she does not fake.

For a moment, sitting across from her, Five forgets to keep lying.

Because it is not just about taking her.

It is not just about playing.

It is not just another coincidence disguised as convenience.

It is about being there.

Lila does not waste time.

She runs to the bedroom, rummages through her clothes as if she knows exactly what she is looking for. She chooses a short, fitted dress, sexy enough to feel powerful without asking permission. She puts on the leather jacket, the boots, and looks at herself one last time in the mirror.

She is ready.

When she comes back, Five is left speechless.

He says nothing. He cannot. He just stares at her, frozen, as if his brain needs an extra second to process her. Lila notices immediately. She always does.

“What?” she asks, tilting her head.

Then she looks at him carefully. Inspects him without shame, from head to toe, as if now it is her turn.

“Come here,” she says.

Five blinks.

“For what?”

“Your hair,” she replies. “You look too stiff.”

She laughs, amused, as she approaches. Five rolls his eyes, but does not move away. He stays still while Lila’s hands slide through his hair, fixing it carefully, messing it up just enough so he stops looking rigid.

Five does not mind.

In fact, he enjoys it more than he would admit.

“Done,” she says, satisfied. “Much better.”

When they arrive, they park a bit farther away. As they walk, the noise envelops them immediately.

Five scans quickly, automatically. He detects a couple of security staff members. He relaxes.

Lila, on the other hand, is already looking for someone in the crowd.

The music is loud, heavy, vibrating in her chest. Low lights, packed people, the smell of alcohol and electricity.

“There,” Lila comments.

Trudy sees them and raises her hand. She smiles when she recognizes Lila and approaches without hesitation. Five watches the interaction closely. He knows Lila has made many friends since she arrived in the city. Trudy is clearly one of them.

“You made it!” Trudy says, hugging Lila.

Then she looks at Five. She examines him without hiding it.

“And you…?” she asks. “Are you any good?”

Lila steps in before he can answer.

“He’s the best,” she says with absolute confidence.

Even though she has never heard him play.

Trudy arches an eyebrow, amused. Then she shrugs and hands the guitar to Five. To Lila, she gives the drumsticks.

“Perfect,” she says. “We’re playing this one.”

She indicates the song. Five nods. Lila spins the drumsticks between her fingers, focused. They wait their turn at the side of the stage, surrounded by noise and flickering lights.

Trudy takes the microphone and adjusts her electric bass.

“This one’s dedicated to the night,” she announces.

Then she gives Lila and Five a visual cue.

Five adjusts his electric guitar at his side. His fingers run over the strings with precision and strength, impeccable technique, absolute control. But there is something else in his gaze. A different spark. It is not concentration. It is contained intensity.

Lila tilts her head slightly and looks for him with her eyes.

Ready?

She does not say it out loud.

Five answers with a brief, crooked smile, letting the tension running through his body play out. He does not nod. He does not need to.

The drums begin to thunder.

One hit after another that makes the ground vibrate beneath Lila’s feet. Each strike of the drumstick against the drum is a rush of adrenaline, a direct jolt to her body. The rhythm settles into her naturally, as if it never left. As if this place—the noise, the light, the chaos—has always belonged to her.

The opening riff cuts through the room like a blade.

They play Reptilia in perfect sync.

It is not just music. It is a head-on collision of impulses. A dangerous game.

Lila strikes the drums hard, her body arching with each movement, shoulders tense, wrists firm. Five follows every hit with sharp, exact solos, making the guitar’s vibration sink into both their skins. They do not look at each other all the time, but when they do… the air changes.

Every exchanged glance is silent fire.

The chords intensify, fast and cutting. Lila feels her pulse accelerate, how each drum hit synchronizes with her heart, with that tension Five provokes without touching her. He tilts the guitar, steps closer during a longer riff, his body invading her space just enough.

The heat she feels has nothing to do with the music.

The crowd vibrates, jumps, screams. No one notices the secret dance happening between them. That physical, electric, dangerous connection. Each drum hit, and each plucked string is an imagined brush, a provocation they both understand too well.

Lila closes her eyes for a moment, letting herself go.

Five notices.

He answers with a brief, precise wink. He knows she feels it. He always knows.

The song moves forward until it explodes in its final section. The last note bursts, and even when the sound cuts off, the intensity does not fade. Their bodies keep vibrating with the echo, breathing at the same rhythm, looking at each other as if the rest of the world has ceased to exist.

Music has done what words could not.

It has brought the tension to the surface.

“Good job,” Five whispers, stepping a little closer. His breath brushes Lila’s skin.

“You weren’t bad either,” she replies, her voice low, loaded with amusement… and something else.

Trudy watches them. She picks up on the sexual tension effortlessly.

The rest of the night slides by with unexpected lightness.

Five, Lila, and Trudy stay near the stage, moving from side to side as the music changes. They do not drink much. Just enough to keep warmth in their bodies and laughter loose. Lila hums fragments of songs, taps invisible rhythms with her fingers on the table; Five listens with analytical attention, but without rigidity, letting the sound wrap around him.

They enjoy the other bands without hurry, without expectations.

Trudy blends in naturally, comments on riffs, mocks an over-the-top vocalist, and celebrates another who surprises. At times, she leaves them alone without it seeming intentional. At times, she comes back, beer in hand, easy smile.

But she watches.

She watches how Five leans slightly toward Lila when she speaks, even without touching her. How Lila moves closer to him without realizing it when something excites her. How they share brief, silent glances, charged with something unnamed.

There are no obvious gestures. No display.

Just a constant, contained tension.

Trudy throws them sideways glances again and again, confirming what she already knows. Those two have something between them. Something undefined, unexposed, held in the air like a note that has not quite faded.

She does not ask.

She does not comment.

She just smiles.

Lila repeats to herself over and over that it is not a date.

She says it with conviction, as if calling it something else could change what is happening.

She checks the time. Before leaving home, she texted her parents that she would be staying out for the night.

They did not question it.

They trust her.

But it is time to go home.

They say goodbye to Trudy and agree to see each other again soon.

They walk down a dark street, barely lit by flickering streetlights. Their steps echo in sync. They do not touch, but they walk too close to be a coincidence.

They talk about nonsense. Absurd group anecdotes. Out-of-place comments. Other people’s mistakes.

Lila laughs first.

“You can’t talk,” she tells him. “It’s way too obvious that you appreciate your friends… just as much as I love my split ends.”

Five frowns.

“That’s a terrible comparison.”

“But accurate.”

“Absolutely not.”

Before he can reply, something shifts in the air.

Four shadows emerge from the sides. Quick movements. Too coordinated to be a coincidence. Pickpockets. Lila realizes it a second too late.

Five moves first.

He steps in front of her without thinking, body tense, hands visible.

“Easy,” he says firmly. “We don’t want trouble.”

Two of the men are faster. They circle Five and lunge at Lila. They grab her tightly.

“Hand everything over,” one spits, “or the girl’s going to have a very bad time.”

Five raises his hands.

For a fraction of a second, he looks like he is surrendering.

Then he attacks.

His movements are precise, brutal. He strikes the two men in front of him with a speed that leaves no room for reaction. Bones, expelled air, bodies staggering.

Lila’s eyes widen, surprised.

But she does not stay still.

Before the next attack lands, she twists, breaks free, and responds. She intercepts blows with cold, almost elegant skill. Her movements are clean. Lethal. She does not improvise.

Five turns.

And sees her.

He sees Lila fighting with complete skill, without fear, without hesitation. There is no trace of the woman who was joking seconds ago. She is pure focus. Pure controlled violence.

They fight back-to-back. They understand each other without looking. In minutes, the four men lie on the ground, groaning, motionless.

Silence returns to the street.

Lila exhales slowly.

“Wow,” she says. “You’re full of surprises.”

Five watches her, still on guard.

“You should say the same about yourself.”

Lila snorts.

“If you’re looking for a good girl, then… goodbye.”

She takes a step to leave.

Five grabs her by the waist and stops her. The gesture is firm, certain. With his other hand, he brushes her bangs aside with a tenderness that contrasts with the recent violence.

“If you want me to be yours,” he says quietly, “then you have to be mine.”

Lila laughs nervously and pushes him.

“Go trip on a knife.”

Five does not move.

He pulls her back toward him and kisses her. It is not gentle. It is urgent. Loaded with everything he does not say. Everything he keeps denying.

When they separate, Lila is breathing hard.

“Let’s go to the car,” she says.

Five does not ask questions.

They walk to the car holding hands.

The street, wrapped in half-light, becomes their new stage. Five completely ignores the condition of the men they leave behind and focuses solely on the woman in front of him. With one fluid movement, he traps her between his body and the cold metal of the car, erasing any remaining distance.

He kisses her with renewed intensity, one that mixes the adrenaline of the attack with the lingering desire from when they played together.

“Seeing you like that…” Five murmurs against her lips, his voice charged with a dangerous vibration, “so determined and willing to do anything to defend yourself… has turned me on quite a bit, Lila.”

Lila lets out a mischievous laugh between kisses, feeling Five’s accelerated pulse against her own. Without breaking the kiss, she reaches out and opens the driver’s door. The sound of the lock clicking open echoes in the stillness of the street.

“Get in first,” she orders, a gleam of challenge in her eyes as she gently pushes him inside the vehicle.

Five obeys, settling into the narrow space, and Lila immediately slides onto him, straddling his lap while she slams the door shut with a sharp thud that leaves them in near-total darkness, broken only by faint streetlight.

“Lila…” Five asks, even as his hand is already sliding up her thigh, “Are you sure this is a good idea? Someone could see us if they pass by.”

Lila leans in, brushing her nose against his, wearing that smile Five knows means trouble and pleasure in equal measure.

“That’s exactly what makes it more exciting, old man,” she whispers before sealing her lips over his in a kiss that makes it clear she has no intention of leaving that car anytime soon.

The atmosphere becomes suffocating within seconds. The confined space, the scent of leather, and the dim streetlight create a bubble of raw, urgent intimacy. Lila, driven by the adrenaline still rushing through her veins, shrugs off her jacket, unbuttons her dress, and slips out of it with quick, decisive movements.

Five loses his head. When he realizes she is not wearing any underwear, every trace of his usual self-control disappears.

“One of those guys could have seen more of you.” Five comments.

“Don’t worry,” Lila says seductively. “I was careful… that view is reserved just for you.”

Enjoying the power she holds over him, Lila caresses his torso as she removes his shirt and slides his pants down with practiced efficiency. She lets out a wicked, playful laugh when she notices Five is fully ready, reacting with a speed that betrays his desperation.

They kiss with almost violent force, fueled by the shock of the attack and the thrill of being somewhere forbidden. Lila digs through her bag, pulls out a condom, and slips it onto Five with an agility that makes him groan.

Without wasting a second, Five grips her waist with both hands, his fingers digging firmly into her skin, and she sinks onto him in one swift motion, filling the space with a shared sigh. The car rocks slightly on its suspension.

Lila braces one hand on the back of the driver’s seat for balance, while with the other she grabs Five by the face, forcing him to look at her. Her eyes gleam with a mix of pure desire and lust.

“That look on your face…” she whispers, tracing Five’s lower lip with her thumb, “isn’t worthy of the great, cold strategist who a moment ago wanted to tear some thieves apart. You look so vulnerable… so mine.”

Five does not answer with words. He simply tightens his grip on her waist and pulls her closer, showing her that even if she holds the physical control, he is completely surrendered to the storm she has unleashed in that seat.

The space is tight, forcing constant, suffocating skin-to-skin contact that only fuels the fire between them. The gentle rocking of the car and the echo of their movements on the street create a symphony of urgency. The adrenaline of being in a public place, with the possibility of someone discovering them, drives them wild.

Lila is on the edge. For her, it is not just the physical act; it is the psychology behind it. Watching Five play like that, his fingers moving with skill, then seeing him step in front of her to protect her, ready to destroy anything that threatened her peace, awakened something primitive in her. Fighting at his side—even against low-level thieves—left her completely ignited.

With just a few deep, coordinated thrusts of her hips, Lila feels her body tense to the point of no return. She reaches a brutal orgasm, one that makes her arch her back and press her hands against the roof of the car.

“Five! Five!” she cries his name again and again, not caring if the sound alerts anyone who might be passing by.

Hearing her like that—undone, desperate, calling his name—is the final fuel for Five. He does not stop moving for a second, keeping a fierce, possessive rhythm. His hands clamp down on Lila’s hips with a force that will leave marks, savoring every spasm of her body while he himself feels the ground disappear beneath him.

Five’s hands are fixed on Lila’s breasts as she tries to catch her breath after the aftershock of her orgasm.

They kiss, savoring their union. She moves in a way that makes her backside bump the steering wheel, and suddenly the sharp blare of the horn explodes into the street, snapping the moment in half.

Chaos and passion blend into nervous laughter.

“Damn it,” Five mutters through clenched teeth, though he cannot stop a smile from forming.

“My fault,” Lila laughs, still trembling with pleasure. “But admit it—the scare added a special touch.”

“We’d better move to the back,” Five decides, looking for more space and discretion. “Before you hit the radio or send the car rolling down the street.”

Lila agrees with a look full of mischief. She slips with feline agility into the passenger seat while Five moves into the back. When they are close again, the space is wider, but the tension is just as suffocating. Lila positions herself in front of him, determined not to let the night end without one last game.

“I want you to clean me, Five,” she says suggestively, “and I’ll do the same for you.”

With a delicacy that contrasts sharply with his earlier ferocity, Lila removes the condom and begins to lick him, running her tongue over him expertly. Five closes his eyes, tipping his head back against the seat.

“That was a lot this time, old man,” she teases, wiping away a stubborn drop. “You were really holding onto all that stress.”

Five lets out a broken sigh and opens his eyes, looking at her with an intensity that promises sweet retaliation.

“You don’t get to talk, Lila… you’re much worse,” he replies.

He begins to lick her very slowly, tracing deliberate, methodical circles, almost as if he is performing a precision task, but with the clear intention of torturing her with pleasure. Lila moans, clutching him; Five’s slowness is agonizing, a wet caress that reignites the fire she thought she had extinguished minutes ago.

Lila looks at Five with a mix of challenge and devotion, breaking the brief pause.

“Can we keep going?” she asks, still with traces of semen on her mouth and a voice soaked in urgency that shows no sign of fading.

“I thought you were already tired,” Five replies, though his own breathing betrays him.

Lila lets out a rough laugh, brushing her tongue along him before speaking.

“No… and apparently your little friend isn’t either. He’s going crazy dancing in my mouth.”

Five laughs, genuine and full of desire. Lila shifts in the seat, stretching her legs and offering him the space he needs.

“I want you on top,” she orders softly.

Five obeys immediately. He slips on a new condom with quick fingers and lays Lila back on the seat, positioning himself between her legs. The space is tight, forcing absolute closeness. Lila caresses his face, tracing his features with her fingertips. Despite the low light, she can still see his green eyes wrapped in fierce desire, shining with an almost supernatural glow.

That damn position drives her crazy. It was like this—him over her—that Five made her his for the first time, and the weight of that memory adds to the intensity of the present. When Five enters her again, Lila moans, squeezing her eyes shut.

In her mind, she blends all her past experiences with Five. She feels deeply desired, chosen. That transition between fantasy and reality intoxicates her; it feels as if she is having sex with a thousand versions of Five at once, each part of her body claimed with a different kind of passion. Does that make her a pervert? she wonders for a second before discarding the thought and surrendering to pleasure.

She clings to Five’s shoulders, lightly digging her nails into his skin. He watches her with ragged breathing, hypnotized by the expression of absolute surrender on her face. Just seeing her like that—so lost in him—makes Five feel like he is about to lose his mind, completely forgetting they are in a car, on a street, and that the outside world is still turning.

He feels control slipping through his fingers; the sensation is so overwhelming that the words “I love you” push against his throat with physical force. But when he looks at Lila, he understands that if he speaks, he will lose her forever. Instead of speaking, he drowns his feelings in a deep kiss, one where their tastes mix.

Five thrusts fiercely, moving with almost animal determination. Lila arches her back, her hands tangled in his hair, whispering in a broken voice that she will not last much longer.

And then it happens. For the first time, they reach orgasm at the same time. It is a coordinated explosion of energy that seems to freeze time inside the narrow cabin of the car.

Lila remains suspended in a limbo of sensations, unable to process what just happened. Never in her life has she felt such perfect synchrony, as if their nervous systems have fused into a single electrical pulse. It is the first time she experiences something like this, a connection that goes beyond the physical.

Five, analytical even at the peak, knows exactly why it happens. He knows that the intensity of their connection and the harmony of their bodies have reached a point of quantum resonance, but he chooses to remain silent. He does not want to ruin the moment with logical explanations.

They stay like that, still joined, wrapped in the silence after the storm. Five rests his forehead against hers, stunned; he never thought such a total connection was possible, and it has happened with her, with his Lila.

With a tenderness only she can draw from him, he kisses her softly, a complete contrast to the ferocity from moments before. Lila accepts his kisses with a languid smile, stroking Five’s back as their breathing slowly returns to normal.

Lila remains clinging to Five’s body.

Her breathing matches his now, slow and deep, as if both of them need to be sure the other is still there. The world shrinks to that minimal space between skin, to the heat that has not yet faded.

That was intense…

It always is intense. But this was… much better.

She cannot fully name it. And that unsettles her.

Five leans in and kisses her again. There is no rush. No hunger. It is a long, firm kiss, as if he wants to anchor that moment in memory without saying it out loud.

Lila laughs softly when they pull apart.

“It’s time for me to go home.”

Five pushes himself up slightly, resting on one elbow. His gaze moves past her, toward the outside. The first rays of morning slip through the glass, soft but relentless. Reality returns with the light.

“We’re in a complicated situation,” he says. “If someone sees us…”

He does not finish the sentence.

Lila follows his gaze and understands. She sighs, resigned, amused.

“That would be awkward to explain.”

Five leans in one last time and kisses her again—brief, firm, decisive—like a promise neither of them acknowledges. Then he pulls away first, with difficulty.

They get dressed amid soft laughter, scattered comments, avoiding looking at each other for too long. A shirt inside out, misbuttoned shirts corrected for each other without words.

The drive to Lila’s house is pleasant.

The city wakes slowly, and the car moves through quiet streets. Five drives with one hand relaxed on the wheel. Lila looks out the window, leaning against the seat, and does not fully understand why she feels that strange knot in her chest with every block that brings them closer to her destination.

With each traffic light, with each street, the idea of going home saddens her a little more.

She does not know why.

“Maybe your parents are already waiting for you,” Five says, breaking the silence. “For breakfast.”

Lila laughs, turning her head toward him.

“I don’t think so. Lately, I give their marriage a second wind when I’m not around, or I’m busy,” she says, amused. “They take advantage and go on dates. So… they probably didn’t wait for me and went out on another one.”

Five glances at her. He likes seeing her like this. Light. Genuinely happy about something that has nothing to do with him. There is something honest and warm in her smile that tightens his chest without warning.

“I’m glad they get along like that,” Five murmurs.

Lila nods, then leans forward a bit in her seat.

“Although…” she says, “we could do the same. There aren’t many ingredients at home to make anything decent.”

Five lets out a short laugh.

“Maybe that’s the right thing to do. We spend so much time at your place that we should be paying rent.”

“Don’t rule it out,” she replies. “I could send you all a bill.”

They decide Lila will just go inside to change quickly. Nothing more. Ten minutes, maybe less.

The car stops in front of the property. They have not even turned off the engine when both of them lean in at the same time. They kiss amid soft laughter, unhurried, as if the world is not waiting outside.

“I won’t be long,” Lila says, her forehead resting against his.

They kiss again.

Lila’s body trembles involuntarily. The memory of what happened in the car returns with too much clarity—hands, breaths, heat. She closes her eyes for a second.

Then, a sharp knock shatters the moment.

They both pull apart immediately.

Five tenses.

Great, he thinks. Lila’s parents.

He turns his head slightly, ready for any absurd explanation.

But Lila goes pale before he can say anything.

Her gaze locks onto a figure in front of them. She freezes.

“No…” she whispers.

Five follows her line of sight.

And sees him.

It is Diego.

Diego keeps pounding on the car.

The sound is sharp, insistent, violent. The metal vibrates with each impact.

“Lila, get out right now!” he demands. “Don’t make me repeat myself!”

Five clenches his jaw. Fury rises fast and dangerously. He remembers every word Lila shared with him in those long silences: the way Diego made her feel small. The way he hurt her.

Lila says nothing. She only throws Five a quick look.

It is brief. Vulnerable.

Patience, she asks without words.

Five takes a deep breath. Barely nods.

Then he opens the door and steps out first.

“And who the hell are you?” Diego spits when he sees him. “Is this rich idiot my replacement?” He turns toward the car. “So now you’re a gold digger, Lila?”

Lila gets out then.

And Diego freezes.

He looks her up and down, stunned. He has never seen her dress like this when they were together. Before, she was always more careful, as if she needed permission just to exist.

“What the hell is this?” he says. “You spend the whole night out, dressed like that, your parents are gone, and you barely come back? Have you lost your mind?”

Lila closes the door calmly. Her expression hardens.

“It’s none of your business,” she says, irritated. “We’re not together anymore.”

Diego laughs and grabs her wrists roughly.

“Of course it is. It’s obvious the breakup affected you. Look at you… Now you act and look like a slut.”

The world stops.

Five hears nothing else.

His blood boils. Rage courses through him like pure electricity. He does not think. He does not calculate. He forgets the patience Lila asked for seconds earlier.

He lunges at Diego.

Five shoves him hard, with violence held back for far too long.

“Don’t touch her again. Don’t speak to her again. Don’t come near her again,” he says, each word deliberate. “Ever.”

Five pulls Lila away to keep her out of Diego’s reach. The argument quickly escalates into blows.

Silence hangs heavy.

Lila does not move.

She only watches.

Diego and Five fight with everything they have, without restraint, without measuring consequences. It is not a clumsy brawl: it is pure rage crashing into contained rage. Fists, kicks, broken breaths. Five is more precise, colder even in violence; Diego is impulsive, overflowing.

The noise is enough to wake the entire block.

Lila notices with irritation how doors begin to open one by one. Neighbors peek out. Some step fully outside. A couple of teenagers pull out their phones and start recording without shame.

“Is that the ex?” someone murmurs.

“A stalker…”

“Look how he’s defending her,” another voice says. “The Gill girl’s boyfriend seems to have everything under control.”

The word boyfriend hits Lila like a blow to the chest.

Her throat tightens.

“Should we call the police?” someone else asks. “This is getting out of hand.”

Lila opens her mouth, but no sound comes out. She is trapped between fear, anger, and a guilt she cannot place.

Then a deeper, firmer voice cuts through the murmurs.

“Don’t call yet.”

It is an older man. Mr. Pogo. Someone is always on the corner, greeted with respect. A figure of moral authority in the neighborhood.

He observes the scene with stern calm.

“The gentleman is defending his lady’s honor,” he says. “And the other one…” He shakes his head. “He already had his chance and lost it.”

The words spread quickly.

Lila feels the weight of all those eyes on her. How Five, without realizing it, is trapped in a role she swore she would never allow.

But there he is, fighting for her in front of everyone.

She understands, with painful clarity, that she can no longer pretend this is just physical. No one fights like that for something that means nothing.

She watches every movement.

She recognizes the way Diego shifts, the hip rotations, the way he loads his weight before striking. She knows those expert fighting movements; she has seen them too many times. And yet, it seems Five has everything under control.

Five is more precise. More contained. Every strike is pure calculation.

Then Lila goes pale.

She sees it.

She recognizes that specific move Diego uses when he wants to end things quickly. The one that is not meant to win, but to shut everything down. The one that leaves the opponent unconscious on the ground.

“No…” she whispers.

She does not think.

Lila lunges without hesitation.

She jumps into the fight with the same determination she always brings into danger. She shoves Five aside at the exact right moment.

The blow hits her instead.

Straight to the face.

The impact is sharp, brutal. Her body offers no resistance. Lila collapses onto the grass of her front yard. Blood trickles from her temple. Her eyes close.

Five freezes.

The world stops.

“Lila!” he shouts, dropping to his knees beside her.

The neighbors react instantly.

“Call the police!”

“An ambulance, now!”

Five touches her forehead, trembling. He does not understand. He cannot comprehend why she did that. Why did she step in? Blood soaks his hand.

His fingers shake.

Terror hits him first.

Then fury.

Diego tries to approach.

“Don’t come any closer!” Five roars, leaping to his feet. “Not one step!”

Diego raises his hands defensively.

“She stepped in,” he says, as if that absolves him. “It wasn’t my fault.”

The neighbors’ stares pin him in place. They move closer, surrounding him, judgment heavy in the air even before the police arrive.

Diego feels it.

He runs—for now.

Five does not follow.

Not now.

“Stay with me…” Five murmurs, his voice broken. “Please.”

Sirens wail in the distance.

For the first time, Five does not lie.

The fear consuming him cannot be hidden.

Chapter Text

Lila opens her eyes with difficulty.

The white hospital light barely stings her, like a constant buzzing behind her eyelids. There is a distant rhythmic beep. A clean, clinical smell. But none of that is what truly shakes her.

“Are you okay?” she asks urgently. “Five… are you okay?”

Five stays still.

He does not expect that question.

Not after everything.

Not when she is the one hooked up to monitors, the one with a bruise already beginning to darken under her skin, the one who is still breathing with difficulty.

He swallows.

He leans toward her slowly, without touching her at first, as if he fears breaking her just by getting close.

“That’s the first thing you ask?” he murmurs. “If I’m okay?”

Lila blinks. She is confused, but lucid. She looks at him closely, trying to focus on his face.

“I didn’t think,” she says honestly. “My body just reacted.”

Five closes his eyes for a second.

Just one.

When he opens them, something has cracked.

“Never do that again,” he says, voice trembling with firmness.

Lila barely frowns, about to respond.

“No,” he interrupts her.

At last, he takes her hand. His fingers close around hers with restrained, shaky strength.

“You don’t understand,” he continues. “I’m always fine. Always. But you… You passed out. Because of me.”

Lila watches him. She is weak, tired, but clear. She recognizes that tone instantly.

It is not the sarcastic genius.

It is not the distant man.

It is fear.

Pure.

“I’m here,” she says softly. “Nothing irreparable happened.”

Five shakes his head. A short, broken laugh escapes him, without any humor.

“Yes, it did,” he replies. “You took a hit that was meant for me. And the first thing you did when you woke up was worry about me.”

He looks straight into her eyes.

Lila gently squeezes his hand, anchoring him.

Five lowers his forehead until it brushes the back of her hand. He takes a deep breath, as if only now he can.

“You’re an idiot,” he murmurs, without harshness. “But now that you opened your eyes…”

He falls silent for a second.

“…now I am okay.”

They look at each other.

Five breaks the silence first.

“Your parents are outside,” he says. “Talking to the police.”

Lila blinks, surprised.

“They…?”

“Yes,” he nods. “It wasn’t exactly easy to explain what happened.”

Before he can say anything else, the door opens.

Anita enters first. Her face lights up instantly when she sees Lila awake. She doesn’t walk—she runs. She carefully wraps her arms around her, kissing her forehead and her cheeks. Her hands tremble. She cries without trying to hide it.

“My girl…” she sobs. “My God…”

Ronnie follows close behind. He leans over the bed, awkwardly strokes her hair, as if he needs to prove she is real.

“I never imagined Diego could be capable of something like this,” he says, his voice heavy with anger and guilt. “Never.”

Lila hugs them as best she can, still weak, breathing them in.

“If it weren’t for Five…” Ronnie continues, turning slightly toward him. “If Five hadn’t been there…” He stops. “We might not be here with you now.”

Five lowers his gaze.

He feels guilty. Frankly, he did nothing. He didn’t stop the blow. He didn’t arrive in time. Everything happened too fast.

Ronnie sighs.

“If Diego comes back,” he says. “Because he might… I don’t want my daughter to be alone when that happens.”

Anita nods immediately.

“It would be best if you didn’t stay at home for a while,” she suggests. “Until everything calms down.”

Lila clenches the sheet between her fingers.

She knows they’re not exaggerating. She also knows she doesn’t want to run… but she doesn’t want to tempt fate either.

“I can’t live in the campus dorms,” she says. “They prioritize students who come from other cities.”

Anita jumps in, practical.

“You could join a sorority,” she says. “Security. People around. Clear rules.”

Five turns his head toward the Gills.

“That can take anywhere from three days to six weeks.”

Before Five can add anything else, Ronnie says the sentence that changes the air in the room.

“Then she should move in with you.”

The silence turns dense. Heavy.

Lila looks up sharply.

Five also freezes. He doesn’t smile. He doesn’t joke. He doesn’t correct him. His mind runs faster than his words.

For the first time, he hesitates.

“It’s… practical,” Anita says carefully. “We know who Five is. We know he takes care of her.”

Lila shakes her head, nervous.

“Mom, Dad… you don’t…” She stops. She doesn’t finish the sentence.

Five glances at her. He notices the internal struggle: the impulse to say no, the fear of saying yes, the weight of admitting that this is no longer just something casual.

“I don’t want it to seem like…” Lila says. “We’re just friends.”

Five swallows.

“No one is saying otherwise,” Anita intervenes. “Just… a safe place. Temporary.”

Ronnie watches them both, measuring.

They are not talking about promises.

They are talking about peace of mind.

Lila lowers her gaze.

She thinks about Diego.

About the blow.

About waking up and seeing Five there.

About not wanting to be alone.

“I want to think about it,” she finally says, in a thin voice.

Five nods immediately.

“Of course.”

But when Lila looks up, and their eyes meet, both understand the same thing.

This is not just a logistical decision.

It is a step that neither of them can pretend means nothing.

Lila rests back on the bed, the white light softened by the half-open curtain. Her parents step out for a moment to eat, but she knows they will also come back with something forbidden by the doctors hidden in some random bag. Five does not move from his place. He sits a few steps away, straight, alert, as if the world could break again if he blinks too long.

The first group enters carefully, as if the scene could shatter.

“I can’t believe what happened,” Trudy says, shaking her head. “A few hours ago, you were playing the drums like a goddess.”

Lila barely smiles, tired but alive.

“A lot of people are unpredictable,” she replies.

Five listens from a distance. He doesn’t approach. He doesn’t invade. His hands stay still, but his eyes never leave her.

Sloane moves gently around the room, arranging the flowers in a nearby vase, turning one of the stems so it faces the bed.

“That’s better,” she says, satisfied.

Alphonso walks up without ceremony and drops a package of chocolates into Lila’s hands.

“Your favorites,” he whispers conspiratorially. “Don’t tell anyone.”

“Never,” Lila says, complicit.

Viktor and Luther exchange a look. Questions float between them—heavy, important. The report. The assault. What comes after? But neither voices them. They prefer to see her laugh rather than push her somewhere that still hurts.

“Take your time to recover,” Jayme says. “I’ll send you my notes later.”

“Thank you,” Lila replies sincerely.

The first group leaves carefully, leaving the room a little fuller of things… and a little less silent.

Then the second group comes in.

Klaus appears first, trying—with visible effort—not to make a scene. He carries an impossible bunch of balloons, smiling as if it’s a party. Behind him come Allison, Ben, Fei, Markus, and Christopher.

“Look at her!” Klaus says, holding back. “Whole. In one piece.”

Christopher rolls forward and hands her an adorable teddy bear, with a cast on its paw and a tiny T-shirt that says: Get well soon.

“Thank you,” Lila says, touching it carefully.

Five frowns when he notices the balloons. He rises slightly from his chair.

“Why do they say ‘Congratulations, it’s a girl’?” he asks seriously.

Allison shrugs, holding a basket of fruit.

“They were the last balloons in the gift shop.”

“I thought Klaus stole them,” Ben adds calmly.

“Hey!” Klaus protests. “Not this time.”

Lila lets out a genuine, unexpected laugh that shakes her chest and lights up her face.

Five breathes.

Not completely. Not fully. But enough.

He realizes that seeing her laugh—even at something so absurd—loosens the knot that has been tightening his stomach for hours. He stays silent, feeling a little calmer.

Night falls slowly, heavily. Five sleeps on a small couch in the corner. He has not left Lila’s side. Ronnie goes out for coffee.

“Lila,” Anita says, “I want you to think seriously about this. Moving in with Five is the most sensible option right now.”

Lila tenses on the bed.

“Mom…” she sighs.

“I’m protecting you,” Anita replies. “Diego became chaotic. The neighbors told us he touched you violently the moment he saw you. And Five was there when you needed him most.”

Lila looks out the window. The city lights feel distant.

“That’s the problem,” she says quietly. “Five is always there.”

Anita frowns.

“And is that bad?”

Lila turns toward her at last.

“No.” She swallows. “It’s dangerous… for me.”

“Explain.”

“If I move in with him,” she continues, “it stops being temporary, something easy to deny. I’ve spent months saying we’re nothing. That there are no feelings. And living together…” She shakes her head. “That changes everything.”

Anita looks at her sideways.

“Daughter, I’ve known you since you learned how to lie,” she says softly. “I understand you better than you think… I was young, too.”

Lila presses her lips together. She feels a knot in her chest.

“I’m scared,” she finally admits. “Not of him. Of me. Of needing him. Of leaning too much. Of losing myself in someone again after Diego.”

Anita reaches out and places her hand over hers.

“Five is not Diego.”

She turns her head to look carefully at Five, still asleep.

“I know,” Lila whispers. “And that’s what scares me the most.”

Anita kisses her daughter’s head.

“Let me think about it,” Lila says. “Really. I don’t want to decide out of fear.”

Anita nods slowly.

“Okay,” she replies. “But promise me one thing.”

“What?”

“That you won’t pretend he doesn’t matter to you.”

Lila closes her eyes for a second.

The next morning, she announces her decision.

Lila accepts.

She doesn’t say it with overflowing enthusiasm or open fear.

She says it like someone taking a conscious step into unknown territory.

Her parents help her move.

Five’s building is an exclusive residential apartment complex.

From the first day, she notices the almost obsessive order of the place. Everything has an exact spot. There is no chaos, no unnecessary noise. The apartment reflects his mind: control, logic, precision. But there are also details she doesn’t expect. Books underlined with handwritten notes in the margins. Cups forgotten next to the coffee maker. A blanket carefully folded on the couch, as if someone fears that disorder is a form of failure.

From the start, Five makes one thing clear without saying it out loud:

He is not going to invade her space.

He prepares a room for her.

It is not improvised. It is not “the spare room.”

It is bright, tidy, with a functional desk, empty shelves waiting for books that have not yet been placed. He even leaves a warm-light lamp because he read—somewhere—that it helps with sleep.

“You can be calm here,” he tells her. “It’s your space.”

Lila nods. Smiles. Thanks him.

On the outside, everything seems correct.

On the inside… something doesn’t fit.

She does expect to have her own room.

That is logical.

Sensible.

What she defended in front of her parents.

But a part of her—the one she doesn’t want to admit—had also imagined something else.

Not necessarily sleeping with Five from the first night.

Not like that.

But… closeness.

She had thought about that quiet intimacy of sharing a bed after everything they had lived through. About waking up in the same space. About not having to cross a hallway to avoid feeling alone.

When Five leaves and she is alone in the room, Lila sits on the bed and lets her shoulders drop.

“You’re such an idiot,” she murmurs to herself.

Because she doesn’t feel rejected.

That would be easier.

She feels… respected.

And that disarms her more than any insinuation ever could.

Five doesn’t touch her.

He doesn’t provoke her.

He doesn’t try to “close the distance.”

He gives her exactly what she asked for from the beginning:

Time, control, absence of pressure.

And Lila discovers something uncomfortable:

When no one pressures her, that’s when she thinks about him the most.

One night, lying in a bed that isn’t hers but no longer feels чужe, she hears the distant sound of Five moving around the apartment. A door closing. The low murmur of music. The normal world continues on the other side of the wall.

She doesn’t fall asleep immediately.

Lila longs to share a bed with Five, but not in an impulsive or purely physical sense.

For her, sharing a bed with Five means safety. It is the desire not to have to lower her guard.

Lila doesn’t just long for Five’s body.

She longs for shared silence.

Constant warmth.

The certainty that when she wakes up, he is still there.

That’s why the desire is contradictory and deep:

because she is chaotic, intense, used to bonds that burn fast… and with Five, what she feels is different.

Sleeping together is not crossing a physical boundary.

It is accepted that she has already crossed an emotional one.

For his part, Five turns respect into a wall.

He doesn’t touch her.

He doesn’t kiss her.

He doesn’t cross boundaries.

He tells himself it’s patience. That after the violence, the blow, the fear… Lila needs control, not imposed desire.

But that restraint costs him.

Every night, he hears her breathing on the other side of the hallway.

Every minimal gesture—when she leans over the table, when she ties her hair back—is a temptation he decides not to take.

Days pass. Lila’s bruise has completely faded.

Lila sighs in her room.

Living with Five is not what she imagined.

It’s not uncomfortable.

It’s not tense.

And that, strangely, is what unsettles her the most.

Five doesn’t watch her.

He doesn’t interrogate her.

He doesn’t lock her in a bubble.

He simply… is.

He is there when she wakes up early and finds him reading, already dressed, as if the day never takes him by surprise.

He is there when he cooks without asking if she’s hungry, but leaves a plate served in front of her.

He is there when he stays silent, respecting the moments when Lila needs to think without explaining anything.

Lila senses something unsettling: with Five, she doesn’t need to perform.

She doesn’t have to be the brilliant one.

Or the strong one.

Or the one who always knows what to do.

She can walk barefoot around the apartment, in an old T-shirt, without feeling watched or judged. She can sit and study at the table while he works in silence, and feel that this closeness demands nothing in return.

But there are also nights.

Nights when they pass too close in the hallway.

When their gazes hold for a second longer than necessary.

When the silence weighs more than any argument.

Lila understands then that living with Five is not dangerous because he is invasive.

It is dangerous because he is stable.

Because he is attentive without being possessive.

Because he protects her without making her feel weak.

And because, without realizing it, she starts thinking of the apartment as home.

That is what unsettles her most.

Not the desire.

Not the past.

Not Diego.

But the calm she feels when she closes the door at night and knows Five is there…
and that, for the first time in a long while, she doesn’t need to run.

Time moves on, and Five remains distant.

Lila experiences it as rejection.

A month without kisses.

A month without hands reaching for each other by reflex.

A month without that silent language that once defined them.

She starts thinking he no longer likes her.

That Five regrets it.

That he sees her as fragile, broken, untouchable.

The insecurity cuts deep because she doesn't want to.

She wants the kisses.

She wants the touch.

She wants to prove that she is still desired by him.

So they coexist like this:

Five, burning inside but firm on the outside.

Lila, wanting outwardly but doubting inwardly.

Dinners are calm… too calm.

Their looks hold a second too long and then break.

There are brief laughs, long silences, words that stop halfway.

Both are protecting themselves.

And without knowing it, both believe they are losing the other.

One night, Five realizes it. The apartment is silent when it happens.

The muffled sound of crying he recognizes instantly, even though he tries to convince himself he doesn’t hear it.

It comes from Lila’s room.

Muted. Contained. As if crying were just another thing she has to control.

“Stupid Diego,” she sobs.

Five freezes in the hallway.

His chest tightens.

He doesn’t move forward. He doesn’t move back.

In his mind, everything fits together in the worst possible way:

Lila still loves Diego.

Lila cries because she misses him.

Because she decided not to press charges.

Because violence doesn’t disappear just by changing houses.

And Five, faithful to his relentless logic, concludes that he is only a temporary refuge, a safe space she occupies while her heart remains elsewhere.

He doesn’t go in.

He doesn’t interrupt.

He punishes himself by believing that respect also means disappearing.

In the other room, Lila breaks.

She cries with her face buried in the pillow, biting the fabric so as not to make a sound.

She cries because she feels invisible.

Because Five doesn’t touch her.

Because he doesn’t kiss her.

Because he doesn’t look at her like before.

In her mind, the wound takes the shape of a cruel thought:

She is only here out of obligation.

Because of the promise he made to her parents.

Out of guilt.

Lila does not doubt Five’s character.

She doubts his desire.

And that hurts more than any blow.

Both are awake.

Both are shattered.

Both are wrong.

Separated by a thin wall and by misunderstandings that are far too big, each believing the other cries—or stays silent—because of someone else.

Morning arrives without softness.

Light enters through the window like an intruder, and Lila is already standing when Five appears in the kitchen. She doesn’t look at him immediately. Her hands are tight around the strap of her bag, as if she is already halfway out the door.

“I want to go back to my parents’ house,” she says bluntly.

Five stops. The air seems to change density.

“What?” he asks, controlled. “Why?”

Lila shrugs, but the gesture fails to hide the tremor.

“I don’t feel comfortable here anymore.”

Five frowns.

“What is bothering you?”

She clenches her jaw. Finally, she looks at him.

“I can’t keep living off your charity,” she says. “Your pity.”

The sound is sharp. Violent.

The coffee cup shatters against the floor before Lila can blink. The ceramic breaks into pieces. The coffee spills like an open wound.

“Is that all you can think of me?” Five snaps, his voice loaded with more than anger. “Do you really think I keep you here out of pity?”

Lila steps back, but she doesn’t lower her gaze.

“You do it because of the promise you made to my parents,” she replies. “And you don’t have to keep it anymore. Not anymore.”

The silence that follows is unbearable.

Five laughs, but there is no humor in the sound. Only disbelief.

“You’re a complete idiot.”

Lila freezes.

“Excuse me?”

Five takes a step toward her. Then another. He doesn’t touch her, but his presence fills everything.

“I don’t do it for them,” he says, his voice breaking. “I don’t do it because of a promise.”

He swallows. His eyes are lit, vulnerable in a way Five hates to show.

“I do it because I love you.”

The words fall heavily. Final.

“Because holding you unconscious in my arms…” he continues, lowering his voice, “terrified me. Because the idea of losing you destroyed me. Because I couldn’t stand it if something happened to you again because of me.”

Lila opens her mouth.

No sound comes out.

She looks at him as if the world has just tilted beneath her feet.

“You…?” she whispers. “You love me?”

Five doesn’t look away.

“Yes.”

There is no strategy.

No irony.

No retreat.

Just the truth, finally laid bare.

Agony cuts through Five’s chest like an electric current.

He promised himself.

He promised he wouldn’t fall in love.

And he failed.

He knows it. He feels it with every heartbeat.

Inevitably, she will leave.

Lila takes a deep breath, as if she is arranging an internal puzzle before speaking.

“If you truly love me…” she finally says, her voice low but firm, “then why do we sleep in separate rooms?”

Five watches her, confused, but he doesn’t take long to answer. There is exhaustion in his eyes. And something deeper: guilt.

“Because I’m not a damn reckless idiot,” he replies. “Because I’m not going to force you to sleep with me after you suffered a head concussion.”

Lila blinks. She doesn’t expect that answer.

She considers it.

Let it settle.

Five continues, not looking at her for a second, as if saying it out loud hurts more.

“And because I know it could be uncomfortable,” he adds. “I know that, despite everything… You still love Diego.”

She frowns.

“What are you talking about?”

Five looks at her again.

“You refused to press charges.”

Lila lets out a brief, bitter laugh.

“Diego is an idiot,” she replies. “He’s impulsive, he doesn’t think things through, but he doesn’t act out of malice… he’s too stupid for that… If he goes to jail… when he gets out, he’ll change… and then he’ll hate us and want to destroy us.”

Silence falls between them again, thick and tense.

Five doesn’t argue.

He doesn’t invalidate her fear.

He just understands, with painful clarity, that loving Lila also means respecting her decisions… even when those decisions are born from fear and not from love.

And still, he can’t stop feeling it:

He loves her.

Even if it’s breaking him inside.

Five exhales.

The air leaves him heavy, as if with it goes his last resistance.

“I’ll help you pack,” he says, defeated.

Lila freezes. Her eyes lock onto him with a mix of surprise and urgency.

“You’re wrong,” she replies immediately. “I don’t love Diego anymore. I don’t feel anything for him… maybe just gratitude.”

Five raises an eyebrow, skeptical, but he doesn’t interrupt her.

Lila takes a step closer, as if she needs him to listen with his whole body.

“If Diego had never cheated on me,” she continues, “I wouldn’t have moved forward. I wouldn’t have grown as a person. And…” she swallows, “I never would have been able to meet you.”

Five watches her in silence. He doesn’t pressure her. He doesn’t rush her.

He just listens.

“I was afraid,” she confesses. “Afraid of feeling. Afraid of being hurt again.”

He doesn’t look away. His attention is total, almost reverent.

“And if Diego hadn’t fought with you…” she adds, “I never would have realized something.”

Five frowns.

“What?” he asks quietly.

Lila takes a deep breath. She trembles slightly, but she doesn’t step back.

“That if something had happened to you…” she says, “I would have been destroyed.”

Five feels a knot tighten in his chest.

“Why?” he asks, though deep down he already knows.

Lila looks at him, exasperated, vulnerable, painfully sincere.

“Because you’re an idiot,” she says, with a trembling laugh. “Because I love you.”

The world stops.

Five doesn’t answer immediately. The confession hits him like a blunt blow straight to the heart.

Everything he held back, everything he repressed, everything he stayed silent about… threatens to overflow.

They both move toward each other halfway, as if the body knows before reason.

“I was such an idiot,” Lila whispers, lifting her hand to caress his face. “I denied what I felt… I was so afraid of losing you.”

Five rests his forehead against hers.

“I’m the one who almost lost you.”

There are no more words. The kiss comes inevitably, deep, loaded with everything they held back for a month. Lila pulls away slightly, her lips still trembling.

“I thought you didn’t like me anymore.”

Five closes his eyes for a second, as if confessing a sin.

“I was fighting with superhuman strength not to make you mine.”

Lila looks at him, incredulous.

“Really?”

“Yes.”

He doesn’t give her time to think. In one swift movement, Lila wraps her legs around his waist, clinging to him. Five holds her by reflex, by need.

“Here?” he asks, his voice breaking.

“Yes,” she answers, certain. “The table will hold.”

Five hesitates for just a moment.

“I don’t have protection…”

“It’s a safe day,” Lila says, looking him in the eyes. “Trust me.”

Five meets her gaze, his breathing heavy, searching for one last shred of the prudence that defines him.

“Do you really want to continue like this? With nothing?” he asks, his voice loaded with a mix of fear and an excitement that burns in his chest.

“I’ve never felt your warmth fill me like that,” Lila replies with brutal honesty that finally disarms him. “I want to feel you. Without barriers.”

Five lets desire take over, surrendering his last defense. He accepts with a kiss that is no longer tender, but purely demanding—a collision of lips and tongues that tastes like forbidden freedom. Without losing a second, he lifts Lila onto the kitchen table.

They both strip each other with a desperation bordering on wild. There is no elegance in the act, only the need for skin against skin. Shirts end up on the cold floor, and pants are discarded like unnecessary obstacles.

Touches now have no limits. Five’s hands explore every inch of Lila’s body, from the softness of her thighs to the firmness of her back, while she digs her nails into his shoulders, recognizing every muscle of her partner.

When the last barrier between them is removed, the atmosphere shifts from erotic to instinctive. There are no filters anymore, just the truth of their bodies meeting in the silence of dawn.

Five positions himself between Lila’s legs, feeling the cold of the wooden table under his palms while her warmth wraps around him like a fire. When they finally join, the direct contact makes them both release a broken sigh. It is a sensation of absolute fullness, an electric connection that runs down Five’s spine and makes Lila arch, searching for more of that heat she has missed so much.

“God, Lila…” Five growls, burying his face in the hollow of her neck.

The rhythm on the table is heavy, deliberate. Each thrust is a silent claim. Without latex, the friction is pure fire, and Five can feel every contraction of Lila, every spasm of pleasure she tries to stifle against his shoulder. Lila, for her part, feels overwhelmed by the intensity; feeling him, without anything in between, makes her feel vulnerable and powerful at the same time. Her thighs clamp tightly around Five’s waist, anchoring him to her, wanting that moment of total communion to never end.

The touches grow feverish. Five traces Lila’s chest with his lips, marking her skin with an urgency born from love and possession. Lila grabs his face, forcing him to look at her; his green eyes are darkened, fixed on her with a devotion that makes her tremble.

“Everything…” she whispers as the climax begins to rise like an unstoppable wave. “Give me everything, Five.”

He doesn’t hesitate. With one final thrust charged with absolute surrender, Five loses himself in her. The barrierless union culminates in an explosion of sensations that leaves them breathless, a total surrender where souls seem to merge as much as bodies do. They stay there, on the table, trembling and joined.

Five rests his forehead against Lila’s. He looks at her with a vulnerability only she knows.

“I love you, Lila,” he tells her, his voice loaded with an honesty so deep it almost hurts. “I love you more than any reality can explain.”

Lila caresses his cheek, her eyes wet and bright.

“And I love you, old man… I love you so much.”

When they finally separate, the cold air hits their sweaty bodies. Five lowers his gaze and can see his semen spilling from inside Lila, sliding slowly down her thighs. The sight sends a sudden shiver through him; it’s a raw, visual reminder of the total surrender they just shared, of the lack of barriers.

Lila notices his reaction and, far from covering herself, gives him a smile loaded with inexhaustible mischief.

“Do you want a little more, Five?” she asks in a thread of a voice that is pure challenge and desire.

Five hesitates for a second. But seeing her like that—marked by him and willing to give everything—logic loses the battle.

“Yes…” Five answers, moving toward her again with renewed determination.

The heat coming off them could set the entire apartment on fire. Lila, with that spark of rebellion that never leaves her, takes Five by the hand and leads him decisively toward the Italian leather sofa, that sacred piece of furniture he zealously protects from juice stains and Lila’s crumbs.

“We’re going to defile your immaculate sofa, old man,” she whispers with a sinful smile.

Without giving him time to respond, Lila gets on all fours at the edge of the sofa, arching her back with a feline elasticity that highlights every curve of her figure. She shakes her ass with absolute shamelessness, a direct invitation that shatters any remaining self-control in Five.

From his position, Five has a view that takes his breath away. His eyes trace Lila’s perfect curves, and under the light, he sees the trail of his own seed shining in her intimacy. The image is highly erotic, visual proof of their previous connection that hits him like an electric shock.

He positions himself behind her and penetrates her in a single thrust. The contact is glorious; he feels the shared heat, the wetness, and that direct friction that only the absence of barriers can give.

It is, in his own words, fucking glory.

Five uses his thighs to press Lila’s knees inward, a tactical move that tightens her walls around him, doubling the sensitivity for both of them.

He starts thrusting into her with brute, rhythmic, possessive force. The leather sofa creaks under the weight and movement, a sound that only feeds the urgency of the act.

“More, Five! Don’t stop!” Lila screams, her voice broken by pleasure.

Five gives in to the most primal instinct. While maintaining the rhythm, he slaps Lila’s ass repeatedly, leaving pink marks that fade and reappear with each strike. He grabs her hair firmly, pulling her back to expose her neck, careful not to hurt her, but making it clear who is in control in that moment.

Lila feels her senses on the verge of collapse. She doesn’t just call him—she screams his name to the air, letting her voice echo through the empty living room. The sound of her total surrender is the final fuel for Five; hearing her lose control like that excites him more and more, pushing him to the edge of an abyss he doesn’t want to return from.

Five has completely lost his legendary composure. There are no calculations, no strategies; only the urge to merge with the woman in front of him exists. His hands, once firm and precise, now clutch Lila’s hips with desperate urgency, making it clear she is his only anchor in the world.

Lila is in a state of pure ecstasy. With her face buried in the back of the sofa and her hands gripping the cushions, she feels the tension building at the base of her spine like a storm about to break.

“Five! Don’t stop, please!” she begs, her voice sharp and broken.

Five accelerates the pace until his movements are a blur of pure power. In that instant, the connection is so intense that they both lose control simultaneously.

It is a total collapse of the senses. Lila explodes into an orgasm that makes her shudder from head to toe, her internal muscles clenching around Five in a series of uncontrollable spasms that make her scream his name until she runs out of air. Feeling her absolute surrender, Five breaks as well, releasing all his weight and heat inside her in a discharge that leaves him empty and vibrating.

They remain frozen in that position for what feels like eons, their hearts beating in unison, pounding against their ribs like war drums. The silence that follows is sepulchral, broken only by the sound of their ragged breathing.

They are exhausted, covered in sweat, and completely exposed in the center of their living room, united in an embrace that defies fatigue.

Five collapses gently onto the sofa, spent, and pulls Lila against his chest. She curls into him, seeking his warmth, her breathing slowly returning to a calm rhythm.

There is no rush, no classes, no commitments. Just the rhythmic sound of their hearts trying to synchronize again.

“This sofa has definitely lost its innocence,” Lila whispers with a languid smile, resting her chin on Five’s chest.

Five lets out a soft laugh—one of the rare ones he shows the world—and strokes her tousled hair, brushing a few strands from her face.

“It’s a small price to pay for moments like this. I think I can live with it.”

They stay like that for several minutes, enjoying the silence. Five places a tender kiss on the crown of Lila’s head, breathing her in—that scent of adrenaline and ‘her’ that is the only thing keeping him sane.

“I’d do it again,” Five murmurs, closing his eyes for a moment. “Every second.”

Lila sighs, intertwining her fingers with his over her stomach.

“Me too, old man.”

They allow themselves to close their eyes for one more moment, savoring the weight of the other, the warmth of skin, and the satisfaction of a connection that needs no words to be explained. It is their small sanctuary.

Morning arrives.

The lies run out. Silence weighs too much. And in the end, Lila and Five tell the truth with the same brutal honesty with which they have always lived everything else.

Now they are curled up in Five’s bed.

Still naked. Still warm. Sharing that intimate space that no longer needs excuses. Morning light filters in softly, without urgency.

Five wakes first.

He stays still for a few seconds, watching her. He lifts his hand and carefully caresses her face, tracing the line of her cheek, as if he still can’t quite believe she’s there.

“You’re looking at me weird,” Lila murmurs without opening her eyes.

Five smiles.

“I woke you.”

“No,” she says, snuggling closer to his chest. “I’m hungry.”

Five lets out a low laugh.

“Is that a metaphor?”

Lila opens one eye.

“No. It’s literal. Very hungry.”

Five leans in and kisses her, slow, unhurried, like someone who is no longer afraid of staying.

“What does my girlfriend want for breakfast?” he asks.

The word feels different. Real. Dangerously perfect.

Lila smiles.

“Junk food,” she replies. “I want a break from your obsession with organic food.”

Five lets out an exaggerated, theatrical sigh.

“That hurts,” he says. “But I want to please my girlfriend.”

Lila laughs, resting her forehead against his neck.

The word echoes again in her head.

Girlfriend.

It sounds nice.

It sounds right.

It doesn’t sound like a lie.

Five wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her closer.

The gesture is natural, learned over the years, but now it carries a different weight. He kisses her without hurry, with that quiet confidence that only exists when there’s nothing left to hide.

Lila blushes.

It’s just a slight change of color on her cheeks, subtle, but Five notices immediately. He always does.

“I find it funny that you still do that,” he says with a crooked smile. “We’ve been together for years.”

Lila snorts, turning her face away slightly.

“It’s different,” she replies. “Now we’re together as an official couple.”

Five raises an eyebrow.

“We always were,” he says. “You were just too stubborn to accept it.”

Lila freezes.

“What?”

Five looks at her with a dangerously satisfied expression.

“Since the first kiss at the fraternity,” he continues. “That’s when I knew you liked me.”

Lila pulls away from him abruptly, surprised.

“That’s not true.”

“It is,” Five says calmly. “But I confirmed it the day you saw me in the library talking to another girl.”

Lila covers her face with her hands.

“No…”

“You went stiff,” he adds. “You pretended you didn’t care, but you were boiling.”

Five laughs, teasing, without cruelty.

“You were so deep in denial… so stubborn about not admitting what you felt,” he says. “That’s why I accepted your terms. Friends with benefits. No feelings. I knew it was only a matter of time.”

Lila lowers her hands and looks at him, offended.

“You’re an idiot.”

Five smiles, delighted.

“I know,” he replies. “But I was right.”

Lila shakes her head, though a traitorous smile escapes her.

And Five pulls her back against him, certain of something he always knew, even when they both pretended to feel nothing.

Lila stays silent for a few seconds, watching him.

Then she tilts her head, curious.

“And you?” she asks. “When did you start liking me?”

Five doesn’t answer right away. His thumb traces distracted circles over the skin of her waist. He doesn’t seem to hesitate… just to remember.

“The day they turned on the lights in physics class,” he finally says.

Lila frowns.

“That’s impossible,” she replies. “It was my first day.”

Five smiles faintly, almost indulgently.

“For you,” he corrects. “For me, it wasn’t.”

Lila props herself up on one elbow, intrigued.

“How?”

“I had already seen you many times before.”

Lila blinks, trying to organize her memories.

“Before classes?”

Five nods.

“I saw you for the first time getting off a bus,” he says. “You had suitcases in your hands. You were crying.”

Lila goes still.

“Crying?”

“Yes,” he continues. “And you weren’t trying to hide it. You weren’t looking at the ground. You weren’t pretending nothing was wrong.”

His voice is calm, but there is something deep in it.

“That caught my attention,” he adds. “People don’t do that anymore. They don’t show themselves like that. You did. Without shame, without caring what anyone else thought.”

Lila swallows.

She grows thoughtful, replaying that moment that for her was just exhaustion, fear, change… and for him was the beginning of everything.

“After that, we kept crossing paths in the city. More than you think. And then… when you went to talk to my father. To the dean,” Five says.

Lila lowers her gaze.

“Then you walked into physics class as if nothing could touch you. They turned on the lights… and that’s when I knew you were the same girl.”

She reflects on his words.

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs. “For not seeing you sooner.”

Five lifts her chin with two fingers, forcing her to look at him.

“You saw me when you had to,” he says. “In your own way. Like always.”

Lila curls against Five’s chest.

She fits there naturally, as if her body had learned that place long before either of them dared to name it. Five wraps an arm around her, distracted, present.

“So…” she murmurs. “Now we’ll have to talk to our parents?”

Five looks down at her, a spark of irony crossing his face.

“Your parents already know.”

Lila sits up abruptly.

“What?” she blinks. “They found out at the hospital?”

Five shakes his head.

“No,” he says. “It was before.”

Lila watches him, expectant.

“The day I left you to go to class,” he continues. “After we spent the weekend together.”

He pauses briefly.

“I ran into your parents halfway down the stairs.”

Lila grabs a pillow and immediately covers her face.

“No… no… how embarrassing.”

Five smiles faintly.

“I had to explain everything,” he adds. “Or enough so they wouldn’t think I was a thief running away.”

Lila lets out a muffled groan from behind the pillow.

“Great. Wonderful. Perfect.”

Then she peeks out a little.

“At least it’ll be a surprise for our friends.”

Five clears his throat.

The sound is small, but enough for Lila to notice.

“Five?” she asks, lowering the pillow. “How… how did they find out?”

Five doesn’t answer right away.

He tightens his arm around her slightly.

He sighs.

“That time in the car… on the way to the hotel,” he finally says. “Jayme saw us.”

Lila goes pale instantly.

“She saw us…?” she trails off.

Five quickly shakes his head.

“When I talked to her, she said she saw us get into the car.”

Lila closes her eyes, but she doesn’t relax.

“But…”

“But she assumed what happened,” Five continues. “She didn’t say anything… until later.”

Lila covers her face with both hands.

“I’m going to kill her.”

“She waited until we started something,” Five adds. “And then, one careless afternoon, she took a picture of us.”

Lila drops her hands instantly.

“What?”

“Of us kissing,” he specifies. “She shared it in the group chat.”

“What group chat!?” Lila explodes. “I’m in the group chat, and I didn’t get anything.”

Five tilts his head.

“The secret group chat.”

Lila stares at him, incredulous.

“There’s a secret group chat?”

“For years,” he replies. “You’re not included for… obvious reasons.”

Lila drops her head against his chest.

“This is humiliating.”

Five smiles faintly, resting his chin on her hair.

“If it’s any consolation,” he says, “everyone wrote things like ‘Finally.’”

Lila sighs, defeated.

And despite everything, she can’t help but smile a little.

Because if even Jayme knew before she did…
Maybe denying what they were was never as convincing as they thought.

Five smirks with that half-smile that always seems to know something before everyone else.

“Apparently, you were the only one who didn’t know.”

Lila narrows her eyes, feigns indignation, and throws the pillow straight at his chest. Five catches it easily, but he doesn’t have time to react when she leans over him and kisses him—brief, firm—like sealing a truth that no longer needs to be hidden.

“Idiot,” she murmurs against his lips.

He laughs softly.