Page 69 of Bound to the Dorm Elf
That’s the part that scares me most. Not the warriors. Not the portals. Him.
Because this isn’t adrenaline or infatuation anymore. This is a decision.
“Your mind’s somewhere else,” Rovax says now, pulling me out of my thoughts. We’re in the student union, tucked into a corner table. His voice is low enough that it’s just for me.
I wrap my hands around my coffee, letting the warmth seep into my fingers. “Just thinking.”
His mouth tilts — not quite a smile, not quite a frown. “Dangerous habit.”
“Says the guy who decided to pick a fight with his father in the middle of campus.”
That earns me the smallest glint of humor in his eyes. “It wasn’t picking a fight. It was… settling one.”
“Right.” I take a sip of coffee, watching him over the rim. “You know most people settle things with talking.”
He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Talking didn’t work the first twenty years I knew him.”
It’s ridiculous, but the matter-of-fact way he says it almost makes me laugh. I don’t. Not because I’m worried it’ll hurt his pride — because there’s something in his gaze that feels too open, like I’d be breaking the moment.
Instead, I shrug. “Well, at least you’re here.”
The look he gives me in return is steady, grounding. “I told you. I chose to be.”
That hits somewhere deep in my chest, in the space that’s been feeling a little too full lately.
The rest of the day slips by in a blur. Classes, a quick stop at practice, dinner in the dining hall with Syndee rattling off weekend plans I’m not really listening to. Through all of it, there’s this undercurrent — like I’m aware of him even when he’s not right beside me.
Later, when I finally get back to my dorm, he’s already there. Not waiting for me, exactly — more like occupying the space in that unshakably Rovax way. Leaning against the wall near my desk, flipping through one of my books without any real interest.
“You’re late,” he says without looking up.
“You’re bossy,” I shoot back, dropping my bag.
That earns me a flick of his eyes, his mouth twitching. “Only when I’m right.”
I shake my head, but I’m smiling as I cross the room. There’s no rush in the way he straightens when I get close, no heat in the way he reaches for me — just that same steady presence, the one that makes my pulse slow instead of speed up.
We don’t talk much after that. We don’t need to.
And maybe that’s the strangest change of all.
Now, and ever since the night in the alley, since the portals and the warriors and the threats I didn’t even have names for — I’m not bracing for the next strike.
I’m just… here.
With him.
The dorm feelsdifferent without Syndee.
Not quieter — not exactly — but looser. Like the air isn’t being constantly stirred up by her whirlwind energy. Outside, campus is already settling into its late-evening lull: muffled laughter from the hall, the occasional door closing, the hum of the building’s old heating system rattling in the vents. Inside my room, the lamplight pools warm and golden, softening the edges of the day.
Rovax is sprawled on my bed, boots off but still in that ready-to-move posture, one arm behind his head. He doesn’t quite fit here — not in the bed, not in this world — but he’s become part of the space anyway. My space.
I’m sitting cross-legged at the foot of the bed, a mug of tea warming my hands. “You’re quiet tonight,” I say, watching the way his gaze drifts to the window instead of me.
He takes a long breath before answering. “I’ve been… thinking.”
That’s never just casual with him. When Rovax says he’s been thinking, it usually means he’s been replaying entire battlefields in his mind, strategizing, weighing outcomes. “About?”
