The Trust I Should've Never Given You
October 30th, 2017, Frankfurt, Germany, Vanguard University
The morning crept in soft and silver, filtered through the condensation-streaked windows of Tao’s dorm. The sky was a dull, aching gray, the kind of color that made the world feel quieter.
Tao sat cross-legged on his bed, his tail curled neatly around his side like a comma. A steaming mug of jasmine tea warmed his paws, the floral scent curling upward with the steam. His phone rested beside him on the blanket, screen dark.
He tapped it. Still no response.
He’d sent Ilhan a good morning text nearly an hour ago, just something simple.
Tao: You awake yet, sleepyhead?
No hearts or hints. He didn’t dare risk being too obvious. Still, he thought Ilhan would’ve replied by now like he usually did. Usually, he replied with too many emojis and a joke about how Tao was secretly a morning person with a superiority complex.
But today… Nothing. Nothing at all.
Tao sipped his tea, ears twitching. Maybe he’s busy. Maybe he overslept. Or maybe he’s tired? He shook the thought off immediately. No. That’s like if the universe ran out of energy.
He got dressed, a soft charcoal sweater, and worn joggers.
Safe and familiar things he could wrap around like armor.
The campus was chilly. The leaves were starting to thin out on the branches, and the air smelled like damp earth and crushed foliage. Tao walked alone to class, hugging his sketchbook to his chest, his eyes scanning for familiar red fur in the crowd. But Ilhan wasn’t anywhere.
Inside the lecture hall, he slid into his usual seat near the window.
Aline, he watched the door until the professor started talking. Watched for even a few minutes longer. Ilhan didn’t show.
Hm? I wonder where he could be. Maybe his schedules changed? He could just be busy with other stuff, too.
Still, his heart sat heavier than it should have.
After class, Rein was waiting.
Not obviously or creepily. Just kinda there. Leaning against the vending machine, paw in his hoodie pocket, hood half-up like he was hiding from the fluorescent lights. He looked up as Tao approached.
“Are you going to the art lounge?” He asked casually.
Tao nodded. “Yeah. I need to work on my still life assignment.”
“Cool. Do you mind if I drag along? I could use a distraction before math ends up making my brain roy.”
Tao hesitated for half a breath, then shrugged. “Sure.”
In the art lounge, the silence was soft and familiar. Easels lined the walls, the faint scent of charcoal and turpentine grounding Tao like incense.
He set up his workplace by the big window and began sketching out the basic composition for his piece.
Rein pulled a chair beside him, not too close but not too far either.
“You’re working oddly neatly today,” Rein mentioned, watching as Tao’s pencil swept across the paper.
Tao shrugged. “Really? Am I?”
Rein let out a short, thoughtful hum. “Your space is cleaner than usual, and you’re using two fingers to hold your pencil.”
Tao blinked. “You notice everything.”
Rein smiled faintly. “We notice everything. We’re both people who rely on structure, but you keep quiet about it.”
Tao didn’t know what to say to that. He felt oddly seen. In a quieter, clinical way. Like if he was being read like a book.
Rein went on, “Did you ever read The Poetics of Space? Bachelard talks about how intimate spaces, like corners, nooks, and windows, can reflect the interior of a person’s soul. I feel like your art is doing that.”
Tao froze for a second, pencil hovering. What kind of weirdo quotes obscure French theory offhand?
But he was intrigued, and a little impressed.
“Yeah,” Tao said after a pause. “I’ve read it. Once. I guess I like rooms more than people.”
“Same,” Rein said, his tone soft but laced with something else. “Rooms don’t ask questions you’re not ready to answer.”
Tao didn’t know how to respond to that. So he didn’t.
They worked in silence after that. Tao lost himself in the lines, shading in fruit and shadows, but a part of his brain kept pinging back to Rein’s voice. The way it had softened, the way his eyes flicked with something like sorrow. Or was it calculation? Tao couldn’t tell.
But he hadn’t felt weird, exactly, not unsafe. Just unsure.
Later that afternoon, Tao found himself sitting on a bench with a lunchbox from the cafeteria. The air was colder now. He watched as students streamed past in all directions, bundled in scarves and puffer jackets.
In the crowd, he managed to spot Ilhan. He was walking with two of his teammates, laughing at something one of them said. He didn’t look over.
Tao’s ears flattened slightly. He wanted to go up to him. To ask, Did I do something? Are you okay?
But he didn’t. He just watched Ilhan go until the crowd had swallowed him whole.
Tao felt a sudden urge to draw. He decided to go back to the art lounge and freely sketch without Rein’s eyes looming over him.
He wandered off and entered the art lounge. The room had emptied out, the only sound a distant hum of heating pipes.
He turned to a fresh page in his sketchbook.
At first, he didn’t know what he was drawing. But his hand moved with a sort of muscle memory, like his heart had hijacked his wrist. He sketched quickly, gently, his pencil tracing the slope of a familiar jawline, the curve of a nose, wide earned eyes he knew too well.
Ilhan.
The pose was half-asleep, the way he’d looked that night at the sleepover, lit by the flicker of the movie screen, soft and warm and close. Tao shaded in the sweep of his ears, the faint line of his smile, the cease between his brows when he was thinking too hard. He remembered the feeling of lying beside him. The way Ilhan had stayed up just to talk. How Tao had woken up, and Ilhan was already looking at him, like.
Like something he didn’t want to forget.
Tao paused, staring at the page. The likeness was imperfect, but the feeling was real. He pulled out his phone and typed slowly:
Tao: Hey, wanna hang out tonight? Just to chill or something.
He stared at it a moment longer, added a little wolf emoji, and then hit send.
The screen stayed silent for minutes. Nothing. No dots. No read.
Tao locked the phone, sighing quietly. He stared out the tall windows of the lounge, where the gray sky pressed low against the university rooftops, and whispered to no one:
“I miss you, you idiot.”
Ilhan sat alone in the back of the sports center locker room, elbows on his knees, paws tangled in his own fur. His teammates had already left, their voices long faded down the corridors. He didn’t even remember practice, not really. Just the motion of it. The repetition. His body moved, but his head hadn’t been in the game.
His hood was up and his earbuds were in, but without any music playing. The afternoon tugged at the edge of his jacket, sneaking beneath the fabric like guilt.
He stared at his phone again.
The text sat there, unread, only because he hadn’t dared to tap it.
Tao: Hey, wanna hang out tonight? Just to chill or something.
The little wolf emoji felt like a knife.
It wasn’t Tao’s fault. Tao was just being Tao. Kind and open. Trying to reach him, the only way he knew how: Gently, and paws full of trust.
Ilhan clenched the phone tightly in his hand.
He wanted to say yes. Of course, he wanted to say yes.
But lately, everything had felt like pressure on his chest. The way Tao looked at him during class, eyes warm like a sunbeam caught through stained glass. The way Rein hovered too close during lunch breaks. The way Tao didn’t seem to notice how that bastard was.
How that stupid bastard was circling.
And maybe that was what made Ilhan feel like he was torn in half.
Because Tao wasn’t his.
He had no right to act territorial. They weren’t dating. They weren’t even anything other than… close. Closer than friends sometimes. Further than lovers always.
But Rein knew. Ilhan could see it in the way that smug fuck looked at Tao, the way he looked at him, too, as if they were playing some kind of children’s game.
And the worst part? Ilhan was losing.
He’d been so afraid of screwing it up, of saying too much, of wanting too much, that he’d pulled away without realizing just how far he was drifting. Tao probably thought he didn’t care anymore.
And Rein was right there, offering clever quotes and quiet attention, just close enough to steal the space Ilhan had abandoned.
Ilhan gritted his teeth and ran a paw through his fur, messing it up even more.
He didn’t know what he was doing.
He just knew that the thought of Tao smiling at someone else the way he used to smile at him made his stomach twist like barbed wire.
He unlocked his phone. Thumb hovered.
He could reply. He could just say yes. He could run across campus right now and knock on Tao’s door, and fix everything before it got worse.
But he didn’t. Not yet.
Because fear sat heavy in his lungs, just as much as longing did.
Instead, he shoved the phone into his hoodie pocket and sat in the wind a while longer, watching the leaves spiral down from the trees like fading confetti from a party he didn’t remember leaving.
He didn’t know how much time he had left to fix this.
But he knew it wasn’t forever.
And if he didn’t move soon, he was going to lose Tao, not to Rein, not to someone else, but to the silence he’d built himself.
Tao didn’t think much of it when Rein asked for help.
He was leaving class when Rein spotted him in the dusk-pale campus, he casually mentioned he’d forgotten his book in one of the back classrooms on the far end of the arts building.
“You mind coming with?” Rein asked, brushing a lock of white fur out of his eyes. “The lights are weird there. I’d feel a little less like a horror movie side character with someone else.”
Tao hesitated, paw tightening on the strap of his bag. Something in his chest fluttered, not in the good way, not like it did with Ilhan, but he nodded. Rein had been strange, yes, intense, sure. But he hadn’t done anything inherently bad. He’d even been helpful.
“Yeah, okay,” Tao said softly. “But quick. I have stuff to do after.”
They walked together. The halls were quieter here, the usual noise of campus fading into old echoes and the soft hum of vending machines. The classroom was at the end of a narrow corridor where the windows were too high to see out of, and the lights flickered in strange, random intervals.
Rein stepped in first. Tao followed.
Click.
The sound of the lock turning behind him was too sharp.
He turned slowly. “Did you just-”
“Just so no one barges in,” Rein said, voice smooth. “I like it when it’s just quiet.”
Tao’s hackles rose before he understood why.
Rein walked deeper into the room, not toward any forgotten book, but toward Tao. His eyes looked too calm and knowing. His paw brushed the edge of Tao’s arm as he passed, light, like an accidental touch with intentions behind it.
“You’re always so tense,” Rein said. “I can tell. I notice it.”
Tao backed up slightly, ears dipping. “I think you forgot your book?”
“No, I didn’t.”
There it was. The charge.
The casual mask fell from Rein’s voice. His smile was still present, but it was curved too perfectly, his pupils narrowed like a predator’s
“You’re so beautiful when you concentrate, you know?” he said, his voice low. “I’ve watched you, your paws, the way your brow furrows when you’re sketching. I could look at you forever.”
Tao’s chest clenched. “Rein-”
“You don’t have to pretend,” Rein continued, closing the distance. “I know you feel something. That look in your eyes when I talk? It’s the same one you gave him.”
He was so close now that Tao could feel the heat of his breath.
“I’m not scared of what I want,” Rein whispered, lifting a paw to brush Tao’s cheek.
Tao grabbed his wrist. “No.” He said it clearly, firmly.
But Rein didn’t stop. His expression shifted, almost pitying.
“You’re just scared of how you feel. You don’t have to lie to yourself, I know exactly what you want.”
Tao’s body tensed. “I’m not scared. I like someone else.”
Rein’s smile didn’t falter. “You think he’ll protect you? He doesn’t even know how you feel. He’s already pulling away.”
His other paw gripped Tao’s wrist, too tightly.
Tao tried to pull back. “Let me go.”
“Don’t fight it,” Rein said, breathing close. “We fit like two puzzle pieces, Tao. You don’t even realize how much.”
Tao struggled harder. His breath hitched, and his eyes went wide. His pulse was spiking.
“Let me go!” he barked, the edge of fear tipping into panic.
Then- Bang.
The door slammed open so hard it ricocheted off the wall.
“Get away from him.”
Ilhan.
He stood there, panting, his scarf loose around his neck, fur bristling like he’d run through a storm. His eyes locked on the scene, Rein gripping Tao, Tao struggling, and they went cold.
Tao gasped. “Ilhan-”
Ilhan crossed the room in three strides and yanked Rein off Tao by the arm, shoving him back.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing!?” He snapped, voice a low, shaking growl that Tao had never heard before.
Rein, rattled but still cocky, smoothed his hoodie. “Relax, man. We were just-”
“Shut. Up.”
Ilhan’s voice dropped a register, deadly calm. “You touched him after he said no.”
Rein’s smirk faltered.
Ilhan stepped forward, towering with his presence alone.
“If I ever see you alone with him again,” Ilhan said, “You won’t get to walk away.”
The air around them felt frozen.
Rein looked at Tao for a heartbeat. Expecting something, maybe. Some rescue.
But Tao didn’t say anything. He only stood behind Ilhan, trembling slightly, eyes wide, ears flat against his head.
Rein turned and slipped past them, out the open door, disappearing into the hallway’s shadows.
It started with a feeling.
Ilhan had just finished drying off from a long shower, having tries to scrub away the restlessness clinging to his skin all day. He stood in front of the mirror, towel draped around his waist, staring blankly at his reflection in the mirror.
Something felt off. A twist in his gut. A hum under his flesh.
He’d ignored Tao’s text. Again.
He hated himself for it. Again.
His phone buzzed. Not a text. A notification.
Campus Group Chat - “Anyone know if the arts wing is still open? Lights been flickering weird af lol”
Ilhan’s paw hovered over the screen. The arts wing.
Tao had class there today, if his schedule was still the same.
He checked the time. Tao should’ve been out by now.
He tapped open his messages. Nothing new from Tao.
Then, another buzz.
Someone replied: Saw @Rein heading there with someone. DM him if you need something from there.
Ilhan’s heart stopped for half a second.
Rein. Tao. The back of the arts building.
No. The thought crashed into his head like thunder: He wouldn’t.
But his feet were already moving. Pulling on his hoodie, grabbing his keys, and bolting out the door. He didn’t even realize he was sprinting until he was halfway across campus, breath clouding in the cold dusk air.
Please just be overthinking. Please just be overthinking.
The hallways of the arts wing were too quiet. Every fluorescent flicker felt like a bad omen. He skidded to a halt at the end of a long corridor, heart hammering.
That’s when he heard it. A muffled voice. Strained. Tao’s
“Let me go!”
Everything in Ilhan snapped. The fear. The guilt. The shame. The hesitation. All of it exploded into a single, blinding purpose:
To protect Tao.
He charged forward. The lock on the door was not an issue, breaking from the sheer force Ilhan used when opening the door.
BANG.
The door flew open so hard it rattled the frame.
“Get away from him.”
The door clicked shut behind Rein.
Ilhan stood frozen, chest still heaving, his whole body trembling with leftover adrenaline. His claws were half out, his hoodie damp under his arms from the run.
Tao hadn’t moved.
He stood in the middle of the room, arms slightly raised like he didn’t know what to do with them, fur ruffled and breath unsteady. The flickering lights buzzed overhead like a broken heartbeat.
Ilhan stepped forward slowly, voice soft now. “Hey… are you okay?”
Tao nodded once.”Yeah,” he whispered.
But his eyes didn’t match the words. His ears were still flat, his shoulder too tight.
“Are you sure?” Ilhan asked, quieter, as if he spoke too loudly, Tao might shatter.
Tao opened his mouth, paused. And then his lip trembled. Like a dam cracking. “No,” he breathed, voice breaking.
His eyes welled up. One tear slid down, then another. Then his whole body shook, and before Ilhan could move, Tao lurched forward and buried himself in his chest.
Ilhan caught him instinctively, arms wrapping around him, holding him firm, steady, and safe.
Tao sobbed. Loud, gasping cries, the kind that came from somewhere deep, where fear and shame and helplessness all tangled together. His claws bunched into Ilhan’s hoodie like he was afraid of falling apart entirely if he let go.
Ilhan pressed his muzzle against the top of Tao’s head, whispering gently, “I’ve got you. It’s okay. You’re safe. I’m here.”
He didn’t say anything else. He didn’t need to.
They stayed like that for minutes. Just two heartbeats in the same storm.
Later, in Ilhan’s dorm, the world felt quieter. Dim lamplight, soft blankets, and the hum of the radiator replaced the cold flicker of the art wings.
Tao was curled against him now, head tucked under Ilhan’s chin, their limbs tangled like ivy.
Ilhan ran his paw gently down Tao’s back. “You didn’t have to pretend you were okay,” he murmured.
“I didn’t want to be alone,” Tao whispered back.
“You won’t be,” Ilhan promised. “Not with me”
Tao’s eyes fluttered. His body finally loosened, the last of the tension melting. He let out one soft sigh and intentionally, for the first time, shifted so he was fully on top of Ilhan, head on his chest, arms resting around his waist.
Ilhan froze, just for a second, heart skipping.
Then he pulled the blanket over both of them and wrapped his arms around Tao’s back like it was the most natural thing in the world.
He listened to Tao’s breathing slow, watched his ear twitch slightly with each exhale he took.
Within minutes, Tao was asleep.
Ilhan stared up at the ceiling, his own heart still racing, this time not with fear, but something deeper.
Something anyone would call love.
Tao was fast asleep. Ilhan wasn’t.
Not even close.
He stared at the ceiling like it might offer a way out of the emotional death spiral currently consuming him. Tao’s head was tucked under his chin, arms draped across Ilhan’s torso, one leg half-hitched between Ilhan’s like a damn koala.
And Ilhan? Ilhan was dying.
Oh my god. He’s actually sleeping on me. He’s literally on top of my body. Oh my god, what do I do?
He could feel every little rise and fall of Tao’s chest, warm against his own. Tao’s fur was soft, ridiculously soft, like the universe just decided to make him as cuddly as possible. And his weight? Real. Solid. Surprisingly heavy.
Why is he heavy? How is he that heavy?? He should weigh, like, sixty-five kilograms. Tops. Is it the tail? What’s in that thing, lead?
Ilhan shifted slightly. Big mistake.
Tao made a tiny noise in his sleep, a soft huff, and adjusted, snuggling closer. His cheek pressed now against Ilhan’s collarbone.
Ilhan nearly exploded on the spot.
Okay. Okay. Don’t move. Don’t breathe. Definitely don’t get any ideas. He just had a TRAUMATIC experience, this is about comforting him, not you being a lovesick idiot.
His arms tightened around Tao’s back, almost without thinking.
But holy crap, I love him.
The thought slammed through him like a wave.
It was sudden and full of truth.
He’d known for a while that he liked Tao. That he had a thing for Tao. That every little smile or shy glance made his heart race like he’d run ten laps.
But now, with Tao trusting him enough to fall asleep like this, on him, Ilhan could feel it in his bones.
This wasn’t just another crush. This was it.
You’re so brave, he thought, eyes softening as he looked down at Tao’s sleeping face. You didn’t deserve what happened today. And you still let me hold you. You still trusted me. How the hell am I supposed to keep this to myself?
He exhaled shakily, careful not to disturb Tao.
I want to protect you. I want to make you laugh. I want to write terrible poems for you and kiss your dumb forehead and tell you every single day how amazing you are.
Tao shifted slightly, murmuring something incoherent. Ilhan’s heart cracked open a little more.
How am I supposed to sleep like this, man? How am I supposed to breathe when you’re curled on top of me like we belong together?
He smiled to himself, small and stupid and aching with everything unsaid.
Maybe I’ll tell you soon. When we’re both ready.
For now, he just held Tao a little tighter, listening to the rhythm of his breathing. If sleep was impossible, well, he didn’t really mind. Not when the person he cared most about in the world was right here. Right in his arms.