GEMINI.
I was deep in my reading, sprawled out on my bed in the blessed quiet of my dorm room. The silence was thick, comforting, and entirely my own. The entire week felt manageable again.
Percy was out-of-town, allowing me to focus on classes, enjoy my new easy job at the Greens, and decompress from the emotional rollercoaster of the past few days. Knowing he was on a business trip with his mother, reliant on the logistics of corporate travel, was a nice reassurance that he wouldn't just spontaneously pop up.
A gentle but insistent knock on the door jerked me out of my concentration. It wasn't Ohio's familiar energetic rhythm, but a firm, heavy beat that felt strangely, demandingly familiar.
I frowned, getting up. "I'm coming," I called out, pulling the door open wide. I froze. The casual, messy reality of my dorm hallway dissolved.
Standing there, looking completely unfazed but also slightly rumpled as if he'd been traveling for hours, was Percy. He was wearing the same dark, expensive jacket I'd seen him leave in, and he was holding a sleek leather bag. He looked perfectly healthy, perfectly composed, and entirely, utterly out of place in my dingy dorm hallway as usual. The contrast was always jarring.
"Percy! What are you doing here?" I sputtered, my heart immediately starting to race a frantic beat against my ribs. "You... you were supposed to be out-of-town until the end of the week! Did the meeting get canceled? Is everything okay with the company?"
He stepped past me, pushing the door shut and leaning against it, instantly filling the small space with his intense presence. His green eyes scanned the room briefly, then settled on me, a deep fatigue visible in his gaze.
"The meeting was fine. The contracts were signed," he stated simply, his voice low and steady. "I finished early so I came back."
He finished early? I thought, glancing at the time. He'd been gone barely twenty-four hours! He'd flown his family's private jet across the country, concluded major business deals, and returned just because he doesn't want to be around people? The logic was astounding and yet totally a Percy thing to do—the epitome of extreme, efficient avoidance.
"But... you're here. You came here straight from the airport?" I stammered, feeling a wave of panic mixed with embarrassment wash over me. I kinda feels exposed to be caught relaxing in my safe space, my quiet internal life suddenly visible.
He pushed off the door and took a step toward me, closing the distance slowly. "Yes, I did. Like I said, I didn't need a full week on my trip. Also, the urge to come back was overwhelming."
"Urge?" I whispered, the word barely audible as I registered the weight of his admission.
"Yes," he confirmed, his voice dropping further. He didn't offer any explanation; he just offered the raw truth. "I missed you."
My mind was spinning—freaking out that he had returned so soon, completely shattering my expectation of normalcy. What did this mean? Was he sick again? Yet, as the panic began to subside, a quiet, undeniable emotion surfaced beneath it. It was a warm, sweet feeling that settled deep in my chest. He was back. He had flown across the country, not because he had to, but because he missed me. Is that normal? Is it okay to feel this way about a friend? I realized I was secretly happy. Incredibly, I'm ridiculously happy that he's back.
"Well," I said, trying to steady my voice and find some semblance of control. "Did you eat something on the plane, or should I make you something to eat?"
A small smile finally touched Percy's lips—a smile of pure, quiet relief. He reached out and gently rested his hand on my shoulder.
"I couldn't eat," he said, the proximity making my skin prickle. "Something to eat sounds nice."
The small kitchenette, tucked into the corner of my dorm room, had always been a neutral, functional zone—a place for instant ramen and mediocre coffee. Now, with Percy's presence, it felt like the most expensive space in the entire dorm.
I turned toward the microwave, grabbing a box of dried pasta and a small sauce container, trying to appear normal and focused as I thought about buying more healthy food in the future. But normal was impossible. Percy didn't just lean against the wall or sit on the bed; he followed me, his movements silent and deliberate. I felt the heat of his body before his arms settled around me, crossing loosely at my waist.
This wasn't a hug. It was less a greeting and more an assertion, a way to anchor himself to me after the chaos of his trip. His chin rested lightly on my shoulder, his breathing steady, and I could smell the faint, clean scent of his expensive cologne mixed with the deeper, more earthy smell of travel fatigue and wool from his jacket.
"Percy," I managed to whisper, my voice catching on the single syllable. I tried to focus on the task, fumbling with the plastic lid of the sauce container. "I—I can't really move when you're doing that."
His grip didn't tighten, but it didn't lessen either. "I know," he murmured, the vibration of his voice against the side of my neck sending a shiver through me. "I haven't felt still since I left yesterday. Just let me stand here for a moment."
Still. He found stillness in my messy dorm room? I felt my shoulders relax instinctively against his chest, the entire weight of his body a comforting, solid pressure behind me. My heart was still hammering, a frantic rhythm against his embrace. Was this how guy friends acted with each other? Was this normal? If it was, no one had taught me this version of friendship. This feels profoundly, impossibly intimate.
Focus, Gemini, focus on the food. I peeled the lid, my hands trembling slightly. I could feel the subtle shift in his weight as he rested more fully, a low, contented sound escaping him that I almost missed. I felt a rush of warmth—the same feeling I had when he was unwell—but now mixed with a confusing, electric tension. He wasn't sick; he was just tired. And he wanted me.
"You really flew back...just for this?" I asked, the question barely escaping me. I placed the bowl in the microwave, punching the numbers. The bright, digital glow seemed overly loud in the sudden, concentrated quiet.
He shifted, his lips brushing the edge of my ear as he spoke. "The contracts were signed. My mother didn't need me there anymore. And I realized," he paused, and I held my breath, "it's exhausting being around so many people. It doesn't feel like that when I'm with you."
His honesty always stripped away my defenses. He didn't use flowery language or metaphors. He reduced massive decisions—like flying a private jet across the country—to raw, practical need. He wanted to get away from people. He missed me.
The microwave hummed, a noisy distraction, but Percy's arms were the only reality. I leaned back into him, just for a fraction of a second, letting myself feel the dizzying, dangerous pull of his presence. Yes, I am happy. Yes, this is not normal friendship. And yes, I don't want him to let go. I'm weird like that okay? Don't judge me.
The microwave beeped, signaling the end of the two minutes, and the spell broke just enough for me to pull the bowl out. Percy finally eased his hold, stepping back just enough for me to turn and face him, his hands sliding down my arms before dropping to his sides. His green eyes held a look of utter, uncomplicated focus—all on me.
"Thank you," he said, his voice back to its normal, controlled register, but his gaze was soft. "I appreciate the late-night chef service."
The pasta bowl felt ridiculously heavy in my hands. The entire exchange, which had lasted less than three minutes, felt like a lifetime. We were standing closer than two friends should, with the memory of his arms still warm on my skin.