Not Yours to Touch

Chapter 5:

Rayyan told himself he was fine.

He told himself it didn’t matter that Zayan had memorized his class schedule. That he knew where he went for coffee. That every time he looked over his shoulder — Zayan was there.

But something inside him was changing.

Not just fear. Not anger. Something worse.

Curiosity.

Thursday afternoon, Rayyan sat at a campus café with Ayaan — a classmate, flirty and loud, the kind of guy who always leaned too close when he talked. Rayyan usually ignored it. He liked the attention. Or he used to.

But today, something felt off.

“You’re quieter than usual,” Ayaan said, sipping his iced latte. “Trouble in paradise?”

Rayyan rolled his eyes. “You’re not paradise.”

Ayaan grinned, brushing Rayyan’s hand “accidentally” as he reached for a napkin. “You haven’t blocked me, so I must be doing something right.”

Rayyan didn’t laugh.

He didn’t even smile.

Because across the street — behind a row of parked bikes — Zayan was standing.

Still. Calm. Eyes locked on them like a sniper.

Rayyan’s stomach twisted.

He tried to look away, pretend it wasn’t happening, but his body reacted before his brain did.

He pulled his hand from the table.

Too fast.

Ayaan noticed. “You good?”

“I need to go,” Rayyan muttered, already standing.

He didn’t say goodbye.

Zayan was gone by the time Rayyan reached the street.

Or so he thought.

He didn’t make it far.

He turned the corner, heading toward the quad — and there he was.

Zayan stepped out from the shadows of the alley between the buildings, hoodie up, jaw clenched.

“Were you on a date?” he asked quietly.

Rayyan stopped. “What?”

“That guy. The one who kept touching your hand. Were you flirting back?”

Rayyan crossed his arms. “Why do you care?”

Zayan’s voice lowered. “Because he doesn’t get to touch what isn’t his.”

Rayyan stared. “I’m not yours either.”

Zayan didn’t blink. “Not yet.”

The words were ice.

Rayyan felt the air vanish from his lungs.

“Listen to me,” he said, stepping forward now. “You can’t just follow me everywhere and act like you own me. That’s not how this works.”

“I’m not trying to own you,” Zayan said calmly. “I’m trying to protect what I care about.”

Rayyan’s eyes narrowed. “From what? Flirty boys with coffee breath?”

Zayan stepped closer.

“From people who don’t really see you,” he said. “People who just want to touch something beautiful. And leave it broken.”

There was a pause — something raw in Zayan’s voice now. Something unspoken.

Rayyan’s heartbeat was in his ears.

“You don’t know anything about me,” he whispered.

Zayan’s voice dropped even lower.

“I know how you flinch when someone raises their voice.

I know you keep fake smiles saved for every crowd.

I know you’re most yourself when you're alone — and you hate that about yourself.”

Rayyan’s throat tightened. “Stop—”

“I know you haven’t let anyone close enough to hurt you in years,” Zayan said. “But I would. If you let me. I'd get close. I’d stay.”

Silence.

Rayyan backed up a step, but his voice cracked when he spoke.

“You’re not supposed to say things like that.”

Zayan tilted his head. “Why not?”

Rayyan couldn’t answer.

Because the truth was…

No one had ever wanted him this much before.

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