our Universe
1171 Words
Dom wakes up before his alarm, the kind of waking that isn’t gentle. The ceiling fan is still spinning, slow and tired, and for a moment he forgets where he is. Then the dorm room comes back to him—the narrow bed, the shared desk, the faint smell of detergent and old books.
He exhales.
Morning already feels like too much.
His phone buzzes under his pillow. 6:12 a.m. He doesn’t move right away. He stares at the ceiling, counting cracks, listening to the distant sounds of other students starting their day. Someone laughs outside. Someone slams a door.
Eventually, he sits up. His curls fall forward, brushing his cheeks, soft and unruly no matter how much he tries to tame them. He swings his legs off the bed and pads toward the bathroom with practiced quiet, like he’s learned not to take up too much space.
The mirror fogs as the shower runs. When he steps in, the water is cold enough to make him gasp. He lets it stay that way longer than necessary. The shock grounds him. Reminds him he’s real. That today is happening whether he’s ready or not.
He washes his hair carefully. His curls are long—long enough that people stare, long enough that strangers sometimes mistake him for a girl from behind. He’s learned to live with the looks. The whispers are worse.
By the time he dresses, his shoulders feel heavy again. Jeans. Hoodie. Neutral colors. Safe choices. He considers tying his hair back, then decides against it. Let them stare. He’s tired of shrinking.
The cafeteria smells like coffee and bread. Ethan is already there, legs sprawled, phone in hand, expression lazy.
“You look like you fought sleep and lost,” Ethan says.
Dom grabs a juice. “I woke up early.”
“Suspicious behavior.”
“Shut up.”
They eat quietly at first. Ethan talks about an assignment due next week, about how the lecturer hates everyone equally. Dom hums along, half-listening, half-lost in his thoughts.
Walking to class, the campus feels alive. Too alive. Voices overlap. People bump shoulders. Dom keeps his gaze forward.
Then he sees Dominic.
He shouldn’t look. He does anyway.
Dominic stands near the gate, hockey bag slung over his shoulder, sleeves rolled up, curls pushed back carelessly. He looks awake in a way Dom never does, like his body understands the day before his mind does.
“Dom,” Dominic calls.
The sound of his name from Dominic’s mouth does something to him. It always has.
“Morning,” Dom says when he reaches him.
“You coming to my match today,” Dominic says, like it’s already decided.
Dom nods. “Yeah.”
“Good.” Dominic smiles. The kind of smile that feels personal even when it probably isn’t.
Ethan clears his throat loudly. “I exist too, by the way.”
Dominic laughs and bumps his shoulder before heading off.
Dom watches him go until Ethan nudges him. “You’re doing it again.”
“Doing what?”
“Looking like you’re about to write poetry about him.”
Dom scoffs. “I don’t write poetry.”
“You write feelings. Same thing.”
Class is slow. Words blur together on the board. Dom takes notes anyway, his handwriting neat, controlled. Literature usually calms him. Today, his mind won’t settle.
He drifts.
Back to first year. 100 level. Sitting on the steps outside the hostel, Dominic beside him, laughing about something dumb.
No relationships till we’re done with uni, Dominic had said. Let’s just focus.
Dom remembers smiling. Agreeing. Telling himself it didn’t matter.
It mattered.
He doesn’t realize class has ended until Ethan stands up, chair scraping loudly.
“You zoned out,” Ethan says.
“I was thinking.”
“About him?”
Dom doesn’t deny it.
The rink is cold in a way that seeps into his bones. Dom wraps his arms around himself as he sits in the stands. The ice gleams under harsh lights. Dominic’s team skates out, and the crowd erupts.
Dominic moves like he belongs here. Like the ice knows him.
Dom’s chest tightens as he watches him warm up—stretching, laughing with teammates, focus sharpening as the whistle blows.
Girls cluster near the front. Lila is there, as always, leaning too close, laughing too loud, touching Dominic’s arm like it’s natural. Other girls hesitate behind her, unsure where they stand.
Dom looks away.
He tells himself it shouldn’t hurt. He tells himself it doesn’t mean anything.
The game is fast. The puck flies. Dom loses track of time, of everything but Dominic—until a shadow falls across him.
“Hey.”
He stiffens.
A guy stands beside him. Tall. Confident. Smiling.
“You’re Dom, right?” the guy asks.
Dom nods cautiously.
“You’re really pretty,” the guy says. “I’ve seen you around.”
Dom swallows. “Thanks.”
“You wanna—”
“Move.”
Dominic’s voice cuts through the air.
The guy steps back immediately, hands raised. “Sorry.”
Dominic watches him go before turning to Dom. “You okay?”
Dom nods. “Yeah.”
Ronan’s laugh rings out from behind them.
“Of course he is,” Ronan says. “Captain’s favorite faggot.”
The word lands like a slap.
Dom freezes.
Dominic doesn’t.
He slams Ronan into the boards without hesitation. Gloves hit ice. Shouting erupts. The crowd gasps.
“Dominic!” Dom yells, heart pounding.
They’re pulled apart. The coach is furious. Dominic’s knuckles are red, jaw tight, eyes still blazing.
Later, he sits beside Dom, chest rising and falling hard.
“You should’ve told me,” Dominic says quietly.
Dom looks down. “I didn’t want you getting in trouble.”
Dominic scoffs. “I don’t care about trouble.”
“I do.”
Their eyes meet. Something heavy passes between them.
Night comes quicker than Dom expects.
Kai claps Dominic on the back after the game. “Club tonight. Drinks. You’re coming.”
Dominic glances at Dom. “You too.”
“No,” Dom says immediately.
Dominic looks at him. Really looks at him. His expression softens, eyes almost pleading.
Dom sighs. “…Fine.”
The club is chaos. Lights flash. Music pounds. Bodies press close. Dom sticks near the wall, overwhelmed.
Someone brushes past him. A whisper follows.
“Careful.”
He turns. No one there.
His heart races.
Dominic finds him moments later. “What happened?”
“Nothing,” Dom lies.
Dominic studies him, unconvinced.
Outside, the air is cool and quiet. They walk side by side, close but not touching.
“Dom,” Dominic says, stopping. “You don’t have to do everything alone.”
Dom smiles softly. “I know.”
But knowing and believing aren’t the same.
Some things feel safer unsaid.
Some feelings feel too big to survive daylight.
And Dom has learned—loving Dominic quietly hurts less than risking everything by speaking.
For now.
- Writer
