Chapter Text
The dorm hallway was quiet - lights still on, doors closed, the low hum of vending machines somewhere down the corridor.
Dunk sat on the edge of his bed with his phone in both hands, jaw tight.
He had rewritten the message three times already.
Aerion had been impossible for weeks. Smirking comments in seminars. Standing too close in the library. That infuriating habit of leaning over Dunk’s shoulder.
Dunk had tried being polite. Tried ignoring him. Tried telling him - firmly - to knock it off.
Nothing worked.
So now there was a long message on the screen. Longer than Dunk liked to write. Every sentence carefully hammered into place.
I tried to be decent to you. I really did. But you make that impossible.
His thumbs hovered over the keyboard, then kept going.
You think everything is a joke. You push and push just to see how far you can get.
A pause. Dunk exhaled slowly through his nose.
This stops now. Don’t come near me again. And if you do, you’re not going to like how that ends.
He stared at the text.
Read it once.
Twice.
His stomach twisted with that unpleasant mix of anger and relief. Like finally slamming a door.
Dunk hit send.
The message bubble shot off.
Three dots appeared almost immediately.
Dunk frowned.
Aerion had replied before Dunk had even managed to set the phone down.
The message appeared.
That was a very long message, Duncan.
Dunk’s jaw tightened.
Another one appeared.
You must have been thinking about me for quite a while.
His ears were already getting hot when the third message arrived.
What are you wearing right now?
Dunk stared at the screen.
“…what the fuck?”
Two seconds later it buzzed again.
Let me guess.
A pause.
Those ridiculous glasses you wear when you study.
Another message followed.
The ones that make your eyes look even bigger.
Another.
And that old gym shirt. The one that’s too tight across the shoulders.
Another pause.
You probably still smell like the locker room.
Dunk’s fingers moved before his brain caught up.
I don’t. I just showered.
He hit send.
The typing bubble appeared almost immediately.
It stayed there for a while.
Long enough that Dunk felt a small, unpleasant twist of suspicion.
Then the message arrived.
So you’re wearing nothing.
Dunk sat up straighter, frowning at the screen.
Of course I’m not, he typed immediately. I’m wearing a towel.
He stared at the message a second, then added, irritated:
And socks. Because the floor is cold.
Three dots appeared.
Stayed.
Disappeared.
Then Aerion replied.
The socks are a fascinating detail, Duncan.
Dunk squinted at the phone.
Another message appeared.
Send me a photo of the socks.
Dunk’s ears went bright red.
His reply came instantly.
Fuck off.
He threw the phone down beside him and sat there glaring at the wall, arms crossed, ears still burning.
Across campus, Aerion looked at the screen and smiled slowly.