Jay‑Jay's POV
London rain drizzled against the library windows, soft and steady, the kind of weather that made everyone quiet. Mica had run off to print something, leaving me alone at the table with my notes, highlighters, and a half‑finished coffee.
"Still color‑coding everything, huh?"
I looked up. Robin stood there with that same half‑smile from before, hair damp, hoodie sleeves pushed up.
"Oh. Hey," I said, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "Yeah. Some things don't change."
He sat down across from me without asking, dropping his books. "You always were the organized one."
I shrugged. "Helps me not panic."
We talked quietly for a bit — classes, London, random jokes from old days. It felt… strange. Familiar and distant at the same time, like rereading a book you'd outgrown.
"You seem happy," he said eventually, studying me.
"I am," I answered honestly. "Life's… good. Messy, but good."
"With him?"
"Yeah. With Keifer."
He nodded slowly, looking away. "I thought I'd be okay seeing you. Turns out I'm not as over it as I told myself."
Alarm bells rang faintly in my head. "Robin—"
He leaned forward, voice quiet but intense. "I messed up back then. Confused, scared, stupid. I hurt you. When I saw you here, I thought… maybe this is my second chance."
My stomach twisted. "I've moved on. Really moved on."
"I know," he said, but his eyes said he didn't. "I see how he looks at you. But I remember how you used to look at me."
The warning bells got louder. I pushed my chair back a little. "Robin, that was before. I love Keifer. I'm not… available."
He stood up, coming around the table. Too close. The library was nearly empty, just a few students in the back, headphones on.
"Just let me try once," he whispered, hand brushing my arm. "If it still feels wrong, I'll disappear. I swear."
I froze for a second, shocked. "No. I already said no."
He ignored it. His hand slid up to my cheek, and before I could shove him away, he leaned in fast, lips coming toward mine.
I turned my head, but he still caught the corner of my mouth. Disgust and anger flared hot.
"Stop!" I snapped, shoving his chest hard. My chair scraped back loudly. "I said NO."
"Jay, I—"
"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?"
That voice.
Cold. Furious.
I whipped around. Keifer stood at the end of the aisle, rain still beading on his jacket, eyes burning. Mica was behind him, face tight, having apparently dragged him here the second she realized Robin had cornered me.
The room went icy.
Keifer crossed the distance in seconds, grabbing Robin by the front of his hoodie and slamming him back against the bookshelf. Books rattled.
"You don't touch her," Keifer growled, voice low and shaking with rage. "She said no. You heard her."
"Keifer—" I started, heart racing.
He didn't look away from Robin. "You don't ignore her no. You don't use old feelings to push boundaries she didn't agree to. You don't get to rewrite the past because you're finally lonely."
Robin's eyes were wide. "I—I just thought—"
"That you had a chance?" Keifer spat. "You lost that the moment you left. She owes you nothing."
People were looking now, whispers rising, but no one stepped in.
Mica moved to my side, gripping my hand. "You okay?"
I nodded, throat tight. "Yeah. Angry. But yeah."
Keifer shoved Robin back one last time, then let go. "Stay away from her. From us. If you see her in class, you keep it academic and distant. You try something like this again, and we're done being polite."
Robin swallowed hard, shame flushing his face. "I'm… sorry, Jay," he mumbled, not meeting my eyes. "I thought…" He shook his head. "I thought wrong."
"Yeah," I said quietly. "You did."
He grabbed his bag and left without another word.
The silence he left behind felt heavier than his presence.
Keifer finally turned to me. His anger was gone from his face now, replaced by something worse — hurt.
"You okay?" he asked, voice softer, but there was distance in it I hadn't heard in a long time.
"I'm fine," I said quickly. "He didn't— it was just—"
"I saw enough," he cut in gently, but his eyes were tired. "I'm glad Mica called me."
Mica squeezed my hand, then stepped back. "I'll give you guys space," she said, shooting Keifer a warning look like, Don't be stupid. Then she drifted toward the back shelves.
I reached for Keifer's hand, but he stepped back half a step. Not far. Just enough that it stung.
"Do you… not trust me?" I asked, voice smaller than I wanted.
His face twisted. "I trust you," he said immediately. "I don't trust him. But watching someone try to take advantage of you while I'm not there? That does something ugly in my head, Jay."
Tears pricked my eyes. "I tried to push him off. I told him no. I told him I love you."
"I know," he said, running a hand through his hair, frustrated. "I'm not mad at you. I'm mad at the situation. At him. At the fact that you even had to go through that."
"Then why do you sound like you're far away?"
He shut his eyes for a second. "Because if I let myself feel everything I want to feel right now, I'm going to explode. And the last thing I want is to say something to you that you don't deserve."
"Keifer…"
"I need… a minute," he said, voice tight. "Just to cool down. To get this picture out of my head."
It felt like someone had punched through my ribs. "You don't want to talk to me?"
"I do," he said quickly, stepping forward as if to reach for me, then stopping himself. "But not like this. Not when my brain is still full of him grabbing you. You deserve better than my temper."
I bit my lip hard, blinking fast. "So what now?"
He swallowed, eyes soft and pained. "Now I go walk this off. And tonight, when I knock on your door, we sit, and we actually talk. All of it. No yelling. No half-truths."
There was a lump in my throat so big it hurt to swallow. "What if… you don't knock?"
He finally closed the gap a little, just enough to cup my cheek with one hand, thumb wiping away a tear I hadn't felt fall. "Jay‑Jay," he whispered. "I'm angry. I'm scared. But I'm not leaving you. I just don't trust myself to be the version of me you need in this exact second."
I leaned into his palm, hating that I understood. "Okay," I said hoarsely. "I'll wait."
He pressed a quick kiss to my forehead — soft, aching — then stepped back. "Text Mica if you need anything. I'll see you tonight."
And then he turned and walked out of the library.
He didn't slam the door.
He didn't look back.
But the space he left behind felt huge.
I sank into my chair, Mica rushing back to wrap me in a hug.
"You didn't do anything wrong," she said fiercely into my hair. "This is not on you."
"I know," I whispered, even though my chest felt like it was cracking.
I believed her.
But as I stared at the door Keifer had just walked through, a cold, familiar fear crawled up my spine.
What if love wasn't enough this time?