After Valentine's Day, the meetings with Orca drifted into the rearview. Julian was buried under the weight of Apex Capital's Q2 projections, but the shift was more than professional; his inner storm had stilled. He no longer needed to hunt for solace in the arms of a stranger.

Orca reached out a few times, but Julian declined. He wasn't blind to the man's intent, and he'd even felt a flicker of lust for that polished, powerful physique, but the impulse was a match-strike—brief and cold.

Orca was a gentleman, wealthy and perfectly built, but he was ordinary. He offered none of the soul-level resonance Julian found in the quiet intensity of his boss.

Julian realized that while one can dine, shop, and date with almost anyone, true vulnerability is reserved for a select few. He preferred his own company to a shallow connection.

As the New York City heat intensified, Julian's life settled into a steady rhythm. In late June, he took a week of leave to return to Boston for his thesis defense. The week was a blur of academic rigor and remote work for Apex.

Success followed the grind. Julian's thesis won the University Excellence Award. His mentor was sentimental during the exit interview. "I always thought you were built for the ivory tower, Julian," the professor remarked.

"But the front lines have sharpened you. Your work has teeth now. If you ever want that PhD, come find me".

Julian offered a sincere thank you, joining his roommates for one last walk through the campus.

"You spent the whole year crying in the group chat about dying, and then you walk away with the top prize?" Jordan teased as they headed for a celebratory meal. "How are the rest of us supposed to feel?"

"I'll buy dinner," Julian offered, his voice lighter than it had been in months.

"Look at him," another roommate noted. "Six months in the city and he actually has social skills. The firm did wonders for you".

"You didn't see him at the start," Jordan countered with a laugh. "I met him for lunch in NYC last year, and the corporate smell on him was suffocating. He looked like a ghost in a suit".

The four of them shared a final dinner. One was headed for the civil service, another to a teaching post, and Jordan had secured a master's spot in NYC to continue his cosplaying. The transition from students to professionals felt like a sudden, sharp departure.

The graduation ceremony was a sea of black gowns and frantic parents. Julian, an island as always, handled his own logistics. But as he stood on the stage to receive his degree, a figure in the crowd stopped his heart.

Samuel Frost.

Julian blinked, and the silhouette was gone. A hallucination?

"Why were you staring into space?" Jordan complained later. "I was signaling you to look at the lens for five minutes".

"Sorry," Julian murmured, his eyes scanning the crowd. "The photos look great, though".

The ceremony ended, and the mass of graduates moved toward the university's main gate—the mandatory backdrop for every final photo. Julian joined the queue with his roommates, and there, leaning against a stone pillar, was the real thing.

Samuel Frost.

"Who are you looking at?" Jordan asked.

"My boss," Julian whispered.

The roommates pivoted as one. "Holy shit. Is he real? He looks like a high-fidelity render".

"Keep your voices down!" Julian hissed, but it was too late. Samuel's gaze had already locked onto his.

Julian approached, his pulse a frantic staccato. "Samuel? What are you doing here?"

"A meeting," Samuel said, his voice a cool vibration. "I needed to consult a professor here for a project".

Julian introduced his roommates. The boys, who had been loud and boisterous seconds ago, were suddenly paralyzed by the man's gravity. They offered polite nods and shuffled behind Julian like scolded children.

When their turn for the gate came, Samuel didn't leave. "Do you have a photographer?" he asked. "I can take them for you".

Jordan handed over the DSLR before Julian could object. Samuel handled the device with a technical ease that surprised Julian. He adjusted the settings, checked the light, and captured the group in a series of perfect, candid frames.

"Take a look," Samuel said, handing the camera back to Jordan.

"These are incredible," Jordan admitted. "The composition is better than the professionals the school hired".

Julian caught Samuel watching him. He looked away quickly, his face warming.

"Want one of the two of you?" Jordan asked, sensing an opportunity.

Julian froze. Samuel beat him to the punch. "Do you mind, Julian?"

Samuel didn't ask if they should; he asked if Julian objected. Julian nodded mutely. They stood together under the university plaque. Julian felt like a wooden board, his smile a brittle, forced thing.

In the resulting photo, Julian looked like a hostage, but Samuel had tilted his head just an inch toward him, a look of uncharacteristic softness in his eyes.

The roommates invited Samuel to lunch at the dining hall, but he declined, citing a client meeting. Julian exhaled as the man's car pulled away.

At lunch, the roommates were relentless in their praise. Julian found himself reciting the man's pedigree: Harvard at sixteen, an Economics PhD by twenty-three, and a Managing Director at Apex Capital by thirty.

"Do you even know the weight of an MD at thirty?" Julian asked, his eyes wide with a fervor he didn't realize he was showing.

He stopped. Why do I sound like a fanboy?

He shut his mouth, his face turning a violent red.

"Go on, Julian. Tell us about the 'weight,'" Jordan teased.

"I'm done talking," Julian snapped, but he couldn't hide the smile. The three boys swarmed him, fingers digging into his ribs in a ruthless tickle-fight. Julian scrambled away, laughing with a bright, youthful energy that he had long suppressed.

From the shadow of a distant building, Samuel watched the display. Julian looked young, vibrant, and entirely alive in the sunlight. He belonged to that world of laughter and possibility.

Doesn't belong to him.