Noah had never formally studied psychology, and whatever scattered bits of knowledge he carried had come from casual conversations with Evelyn over the years, fragments picked up without structure, without proof, leaving him skeptical that something as simple as a watch's swing or a steady voice could truly bend a person's mind or will.
That night, he dreamed again, his awareness slipping as though pulled downward into deep water, pressure building as he sank until the darkness thinned and resolved into the familiar view beyond a window, the old tree standing below their childhood apartment, its trunk thick and weathered, leaves whispering against the glass.
"You drifted again," Evelyn said softly, her voice close, calm, carrying the faint warmth he remembered. "I only looked away for a moment."
Noah lifted his eyes and slowly understood the scene forming around him, his body smaller, younger, eleven or twelve at most, seated in Evelyn's lap at the desk with an open workbook spread before them, his childhood room unchanged, the desk against the wall, the window framing the open space below where the old tree cast its shadow.
"School starts the day after tomorrow," she continued, her tone gentle but firm. "If you don't keep going, you won't finish in time."
"I'm tired," he muttered, the younger version of his voice thin with heat and complaint. "I don't want to write anymore."
"Finish this chapter," she replied, unyielding. "Then you can rest."
"Okay," he said, lowering his head, gripping his pencil and obediently filling in answers.
It was the final stretch of summer before middle school, late August still held tightly in the season's grip, the sun unforgiving, the room warm despite the electric fan humming as it pushed thin streams of air across their skin. Evelyn wore a simple white dress, the fabric light, her still-youthful chest pressed against his back through the cloth, her body always cool to the touch, even in heat like this, which was why he had liked staying close to her, even then.
"Do this one again," she murmured, pointing. "See where you went wrong."
"Did I mess it up?" he asked, reworking the numbers, realizing too late he had added incorrectly again.
With Evelyn watching him every break and holiday, Noah had never been allowed to leave all his assignments for the last days, and even now, most of it was finished, the delay only because she had softened more than once and let him stop early. He finished another problem and looked up without thinking, his gaze catching on the figure beneath the tree outside, Lila seated in the shade, reading what looked like a freshly released comic magazine.
"Can we stop here?" he asked, pointing. "I want to go play with Lila."
At that age, Noah hadn't understood the strangeness of Evelyn's feelings, nor the intensity quietly rooting itself beneath her restraint, and he didn't notice the brief, cold edge that flashed through her eyes before she reached for his wrist, tightening her grip just enough to steady herself.
"No," she said, her voice firm, controlled. "You still have this chapter, and then your language drills. There are only two days left. Don't think about playing."
"But you said—"
"If you want to play," she interrupted, "it means you still have energy. Then you can do more."
She kept him there the entire afternoon, watching until each page was filled, until the light shifted and the space beneath the tree outside stood empty. As if to soften it, Laura had brought home ice cream the night before, one for each of them, and Noah had eaten his early, then later finished Evelyn's as well. At sunset, Evelyn returned from taking out the trash with the new comic magazine, bought with the money she earned from her part-time work, and placed it quietly on his desk.
She had always been like that, strict, but attentive, caring in ways that felt complete, unquestionable.
—
After showering, Noah hung the towel back on the rack and leaned toward the mirror, his face clean, skin pale, features sharp and familiar. Near his collarbone, just where his shirt dipped, he noticed a dark mark, touching it with his fingers, realizing it wasn't dirt or a mole, but ink.
He pulled the fabric aside and saw it clearly, a neat character written in black marker across his collarbone, hidden neatly by his neckline.
"Evelyn," he called, stepping out of the bathroom toward the kitchen.
"Yes?" she replied evenly, her back turned, hands busy.
"What's this?" He pointed to his collarbone. "Did you write it?"
"I did," she said without turning. "Marking what belongs to you isn't unusual."
"That's not the same thing," he protested, heat creeping into his voice. "If someone sees it—"
"Then keep it covered," she said calmly. "Don't wash it off before your next shower. If you do, I'll place it somewhere harder to hide."
"You said you wouldn't force me," he said quietly. "This feels like forcing."
"You could write on me," she replied, setting the pot down on the table, removing her apron and adjusting her neckline just enough to expose the curve of her shoulder, the black strap visible against her skin. "The marker's in the room. You can write there."
Her skin was smooth, unmarked, the strap cutting a dark line across it, the same deliberate style she favored, and she stood there without hesitation, watching him. Noah swallowed, his throat tightening, unwilling to let her see how easily she had unsettled him.
"Really?" he asked. "You'd let me?"
"Yes," she said simply. "If you want to."
He went to retrieve the Sharpie, returning to stand close enough that the scent of her lingered around him, floral and warm, his hand trembling as he raised the marker, his eyes catching on the edge of fabric, the strap, the shape beneath, his focus slipping despite himself. His grip weakened, fingers slick with nervous sweat, the room too quiet, the air heavy.
"Go on," she said quietly. "I'm waiting."
"Evelyn," he said, his voice barely above a breath, "if I do this—"
"Then do it," she answered.
But he couldn't. He stepped back, capped the marker, holding it tightly as if grounding himself. "I won't," he said. "You'll get ink on your skin."
She adjusted her collar, covering herself again. "As you like," she said. "It doesn't change anything."
He sat down at the table, his thoughts tangled, chest tight, unable to answer. Lately, even outside his dreams, Evelyn occupied his mind more than anything else, her presence threading through his days until it felt like everything else had been pulled inward around her.
"Sweet potato oatmeal," she said, ladling it into a bowl and setting it in front of him. "I added a little brown sugar."
He nodded, distant, lifting the spoon and tasting it.
"You look unfocused," she observed. "Like you're not fully here."
"I'm fine," he said, though the words felt thin.
She watched him closely, the faint curve of her smile settling into place, patient, satisfied.
—
The sky hung low and colorless, layers of cloud pressing down on one another as the temperature slid steadily downward, the old trees lining the field nearly stripped bare, their branches rattling faintly as if announcing winter's approach before the frost had fully arrived.
That morning's physical education class warmed everyone quickly despite the cold, bodies loosening as they moved, a few already shrugging off jackets once sweat began to bead at their temples. On the grass field at the center of the track, three or four dozen students passed a soccer ball back and forth in repetitive drills, while the female instructor stood watching for a while before quietly stepping away.
Caleb had been tracking her movements closely, and the moment she disappeared from the edge of the field, his foot stilled against the ball as he groaned and dropped his shoulders. "I'm dead. I'm actually dead. That woman's not human."
"You're the one who suggested soccer," Noah shot back, dropping the ball and sitting on it with his legs spread, the grass damp beneath him. "You dragged the rest of us into it."
"I didn't know we'd get stuck with someone this serious," Caleb complained. "The tears in my eyes now are the water that used to be in my brain."
The rest of the guys relaxed instantly, the scuffed, dirt-streaked ball no longer rolling, conversation breaking out in uneven waves, drifting from game scores to rumors to half-serious talk about girls. Miles came over holding another ball and sat down with them, his tone more subdued.
"You guys should bundle up more," he said. "There's some flu going around. A few cases already popped up in town."
"Is it bad?"
"Not deadly, from what I've heard, but the symptoms sound miserable. Fatigue, dizziness, losing your sense of taste, all kinds of junk."
"If Maya got sick," Caleb said with a grin, nudging Miles, "would you still go play hero?"
"I mean," Miles hesitated, "I'd probably check on her. We're classmates."
Caleb sighed and clapped him on the shoulder. "At least she's not the kind who uses people. You could've picked worse."
Noah listened without joining in, his gaze drifting across the field until it caught on the basketball court next door, where several tall girls were visible through the fencing, moving in coordinated bursts. Some sports almost never had girls sign up, and soccer was one of them. He blinked, curious.
"What class is that?"
Caleb followed his line of sight. "Volleyball, I think. That should be section two."
"Volleyball two," Noah repeated. "Lila's in that one, I think."
Caleb's eyebrow lifted. "Thinking about going back?"
Noah shot him a look. If he tried to circle back to Lila now, Evelyn would peel him alive. And beyond that, something had shifted lately, his attention narrowing without him quite noticing, other girls fading at the edges of his awareness. A strange thought flickered through him, that maybe spending time with someone who wasn't Evelyn would help steady whatever was going on inside his head, that the imbalance might come from how she had become the only woman in his orbit.
"Noah?" Caleb waved a hand in front of his face. "You spacing out. You actually thinking about getting back together?"
"Why does it have to be that?" Noah snapped lightly. "We're neighbors. Friends. I can't check in?"
"Sure," Caleb said, shrugging. "Just don't lie to yourself."
"Teacher's back."
Miles' warning snapped them upright, the group scattering back into position with practiced speed, resuming the drill as if nothing had happened. The instructor had clearly noticed their earlier laziness, because she laid into them without mercy, threatening to dock participation points, her voice cutting through the field while they ran and passed in tense silence.
Moments like this always made Noah think how much easier it would be if every class were taught by Evelyn. No matter how strict she was, she would never actually let him fail.
The bell finally rang, merciful and sharp, and the instructor at least had the decency not to steal their break. Noah headed toward the basketball court, the familiar figure coming into clearer focus as he approached. Lila wasn't tall among the girls, but she stood out easily, her features bright enough to catch the eye without effort.
She had just finished a drill and tilted her head back to drink, spotting him in the same breath, surprise and something like quiet delight flickering through her eyes. She slipped through the gate in the fence, smiling at him. "You came to see me?"
"Yeah," he admitted, meaning it without complication. "Just to check in. Is your class exhausting too?"
Fine beads of sweat clung to her hairline, damp strands sticking to her cheek as she caught her breath, her eyes clear and lively despite the exertion. "Our instructor's brutal," she complained lightly. "No breaks at all. Yours the same?"
"Pretty much. I regret this choice daily."
She laughed. "Guess we're suffering together."
"I guess so," Noah said, glancing at her thin jacket. "There's a flu going around. You should keep warm."
"Thanks," she replied, amused. "I'm layered underneath. You should worry about yourself more." Her gaze flicked to his sweatshirt, blue and white, unfamiliar. "That new?"
"Yeah. My sister got it for me."
"She really takes care of you," Lila said, lips pursed faintly. "I should get back. Class is about to start again."
"Right. I'll head out too."
Later, once they were dismissed for good, Noah and his roommates reached the field exit, only to find Lila waiting there. Without a word, the others exchanged looks, patted Noah's shoulder, and peeled off in unison, leaving him behind.
She held out a bottle of mango-flavored drink. "I didn't know what you liked, so I grabbed what I usually get."
"Thanks," he said, accepting it and taking a couple of swallows.
He didn't actually care much for sweet drinks, usually sticking to milk or water, a habit Evelyn knew by heart.
"We're heading the same way," Lila said. "Walk with me?"
"Sure."
She had wiped the sweat from her neck and shoulders, her ponytail swaying gently as they walked, dark hair smooth beneath a small clover-shaped clip Noah recognized immediately, something he had given her long ago. Holding her jacket against her chest, she glanced sideways at him.
"You used to say being with me was exhausting," she said softly. "Am I… any better now?"
"You've changed," he said honestly. "Even if I haven't really been paying attention."
"So you still remember how annoying I was?" she teased.
"It's not that," he replied, hesitating. "I've just been busy. Feels like I barely see you anymore."
"Third place in the calculus competition," she said lightly. "Busy makes sense."
"You know about that?"
"The school posted it." She smiled at him. "Congratulations, genius."