Paul lay on his bed in tears, Ken sitting beside him, gently caressing his back. There was little he could do to comfort Paul, though he had warned him it would be difficult. At least they were facing it together. As the crying subsided, Ken lay down beside Paul, wrapping his arms around him. Paul turned into his chest, and Ken whispered, "It's going to be okay."

"How do you know?" Paul asked, his voice muffled against Ken's chest.

Of everything Ken had told Paul, he had never revealed that Luke was still alive—only the timeline Luke had left behind, and the critical events that must unfold.

"But we don't know what happens when Mick meets Luke next. The timeline isn't complete. Or is it?" Paul asked.

Ken closed his eyes, holding his breath to keep his frustration in check. After a long silence, he said quietly, "I don't have the answers for you. I don't know what happens next—for you or Mick."

Meanwhile, Mick paced the dormitory foyer as the sun set and students trickled back to their rooms. What Paul had told him after class the day before weighed heavily on his mind. If he told Luke the truth, would it save him—or make things worse? The dilemma crushed him.

Reaching his room, Mick hesitated at the door. The fear of what he might—or might not—find inside held him frozen. Finally, hunched and dejected, he took a deep breath, pulled his key from his pocket, and opened the door.

Inside, Luke didn't realise he'd been staring at the door until the sound of the key in the lock draw him out of his trance. He pushed his chair back as he stood, wobbled, and steadied himself. When their eyes met, Mick's anguish was unmistakable, and rushed forwarded, wrapping his arms tightly around Luke.

Luke returned the embrace, his own worries melting away as he realised something was wrong.

"Mick," Luke said softly against his neck.

Mick only held him tighter. Luke tried again, a little louder, gently attempting to pull back and look at him.

Finally, Mick let him go. Luke's gaze softened at the tears streaming down Mick's face.

"What's wrong?" he asked, raising a hand to wipe them away.

When Mick didn't respond, Luke took his hand and led him to the bed. Sitting down, he pulled Mick close.

"What's wrong?" Luke asked again, placing Mick's hand on his lap.

The weight of Mick's dilemma only made him cry harder. He buried his face into Luke's shoulder, letting the tears fall. Luke stroked the top of his head. "It's okay. Whatever's wrong, you can tell me."

After several minutes, Mick's breathing steadied. He lifted his head and met Luke's eyes, streaked with tears. "If I know what happened to you... would telling you now be the reason you disappear? Or not telling you be the reason?"

Luke's chest tightened at the question. "I think... you should tell me," he said firmly.

Mick shook his head, fear consuming him. His eyes dropped.

"Mick," Luke said gently, lifting his chin so their eyes met.

"I would want to know rather than not knowing," Luke continued.

Mick slumped further. "You get poisoned," he whispered, unable to meet Luke's gaze.

Luke only stared, shock and concern warring in his expression.

After a moment, he took Mick's hands in his. "It's okay."

Mick's head shot up. "But... if it was okay, then wouldn't I be able to find you in my time? If I were able to save you... wouldn't—"

Luke pressed his lips to Mick's, silencing him. Mick froze, stunned. Pulling back, Luke smiled faintly as Mick wiped his tears from Luke's mouth.

"There are better times for this than now," Mick murmured.

"Maybe," Luke replied, a small smirk tugging at his lips. "Let me get you a face wash, and then we can have a proper conversation."

Mick shook his head and grabbed Luke's hand, pulling him back onto the bed. "No. The door frame. I won't be here if you go through it."

Luke nodded. Mick used his shirt sleeve to wipe his own face, and Luke helped clean the rest with his hand.

"Can you tell me everything about your time? From the exact day you first met me until now?" Luke asked.

Mick nodded. Luke rose, retrieved a notepad and pen from his desk, and sat back down, ready to record an extensive timeline of everything Mick knew.

It was late evening, and Mick lay against Luke on the bed, Luke's arms wrapped tightly around him. Exhaustion had overtaken Mick's body, his eyes barely able to stay open.

"Mick," Luke murmured quietly against the top of his head.

"Mmmm," Mick responded, half-asleep.

"What's the date tomorrow?" Luke asked.

"Why?" Mick mumbled, still drifting.

"Let's meet up," Luke suggested. There was a part of him that didn't want to know whether telling Luke was the right thing or not.

"What if you don't turn up?" Mick asked, his voice small. Before Luke could respond, he added, "Let me think about it."

"Okay," Luke said softly, returning to caress Mick's hair until he fell asleep.

Morning light streamed through the window. Mick stirred, realising he was still lying in Luke's arms. Forcing his eyes open, he blinked against the soreness and dryness, struggling to see clearly.

"Morning," Luke murmured, rolling over and snuggling back against him. His hand moved over Mick's chest, pausing just above his heart. Mick closed his eyes, letting the soreness ease, but his body responded instinctively to Luke's touch. He bit his bottom lip, trying to suppress the rising urges.

"Lucky you didn't say 'good' morning." Mick murmured half-heartedly.

Luke propped himself on one elbow, watching Mick's lower lip between his teeth. A slow smile spread across his face as he let his hand glide over Mick's chest. Leaning down, he placed gentle kisses along Mick's neck, tracing his jawline until he reached his lips. Their lips met softly. Mick's eyes opened, locking with Luke's, and Luke pulled back just enough to say, "Now it's good morning."

Mick couldn't help smiling, pushing Luke away lightly and scoffing.

The laughter faded from Luke's face as he studied Mick's expression. "I'm going to leave you now. I'll see you later today."

Fear flickered across Mick's face, and Luke quickly kissed him again. "It's going to be okay. I'll meet you at the café on the corner at twelve."

Mick nodded but couldn't summon a smile. Luke rose, and before heading to the bathroom, cast one last glance at Mick in bed.

Mick closed his eyes as he heard the bathroom door open—and then, the sound of it shutting never came. He rolled onto his side and let the tears fall.

"Are you sure about this?" Paul asked, walking beside Mick as they approached the café.

"No. But what can I do?" Mick replied, his voice tight.

"Let me go instead," Paul pleaded, worry etched across his face.

"It's okay," Mick said, though his stomach twisted at the lie. Deep down, he knew something was wrong—Luke wouldn't be there. If what he'd told Luke had saved him, they would have met at the same time they met Ken.

As they reached the café, Mick turned to his friend. "You don't need to stay. I'll be fine. Really."

Paul scanned the busy street, then looked back at him. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure. You go. If he doesn't turn up, I'll meet you back at the dorms."

Paul hesitated, then nodded and patted Mick's arm before walking away.

Once around the corner, Paul stopped as Ken appeared.

"I can't do this," Paul said, his voice raw. "Why wasn't the timeline completed after their last visit? We know they arranged to meet—but did they? I can't bear to imagine how Mick will react if Luke doesn't show up. Does that mean we failed to save him?"

"It's going to be okay," Ken said softly, taking Paul's hands in his.

"You keep saying that—but how do you know?" Paul demanded, frustration and fear in his tone.

Ken pulled him into a hug. "I say it because I have to believe it's going to be okay. Why else would something this bizarre happen? You have to believe too."

Paul buried his face against Ken's shoulder. "I'm sorry you've had to go through this alone," he whispered.

Ken held him close, staring out across the street at Luke, whose expression mirrored the worry and sorrow of his own.

Inside the café, Mick sat alone. The clock above the wall tables showed ten minutes to twelve. Deep down, he already knew—Luke wouldn't be there. The latte he'd ordered sat untouched in front of him. He watched the red second hand crawl around the clock.

By ten past twelve, the latte had gone cold. Mick exhaled, the tight knot in his chest refusing to ease. There was no point in waiting any longer. Standing, he abandoned the cup and walked out of the café, the weight of disappointment heavy on his shoulders.