Too early for this nonsense

Elijah sighed in relief as he opened his eyes to the early morning light.

For the first time in days, he hadn't been haunted by the recurring nightmare of Oliver's death.

No gasping for air, no jolting awake in cold sweat. Just peace.

"Thank god," he murmured softly, his voice still hoarse from sleep. "Thank god."

The relief that washed over him was immense, but as he sat up in bed, reality settled back in.

The nightmares might have stopped, but the weight of everything still lingered.

The whispers from patrol, the constant pressure of proving himself, and the ever-present fear of showing weakness—it all pressed down on him like a heavy blanket.

Elijah shook his head, trying to push the thoughts away. "No patrol today would be nice," he muttered, rubbing his face.

Just then, his pocket device materialized in a small flash of light, and a notification pinged.

Curious, he picked it up, and a red holographic screen appeared with a message from the instructors.

[To all cadets: Please head to the main building at 9 a.m. We'll be distributing your new roles. There will be no patrol for now due to instructors not being available.]

Elijah blinked at the message, rereading the last part. Then, he smiled—a genuine, rare smile. "No patrol. Oh, a good day to be alive," he muttered, chuckling softly.

Still smiling, Elijah got up and went to the shower.

The warm water felt like it was washing away more than just dirt; it felt like it was cleansing the lingering dread of the past few days. After drying off, he rummaged through his closet and grabbed the crisp white camp uniform.

"This feels... manageable," he thought to himself as he pulled the white camp uniform on, the fabric fitting perfectly.

When Elijah finally stepped out of his room, his good mood was evident.

He even began whistling a cheerful tune, something he hadn't done in weeks.

But his peaceful morning was quickly interrupted.

"Are you blind, Kieran?! That's MY coffee!" Visconti's irritated voice boomed from the kitchen.

"Oh, give me a break, Visconti! It's just coffee!" Kieran shot back.

"It's not just coffee; it's the last packet of the premium blend!"

Elijah paused in the doorway, the scene before him almost too ridiculous to believe.

Kieran and Visconti were nose-to-nose, bickering like children over a cup of coffee.

With a shake of his head, Elijah decided to let them have their moment. "It's too early to deal with this nonsense," he muttered under his breath.

He made his way to the living room, grabbed his own untouched cup of coffee, and sank into a chair.

Taking a sip, he closed his eyes, imagining himself on a sunny beach instead of in a training camp surrounded by chaos.

Behind him, the argument continued.

"You put sugar in it?! Are you insane?" Visconti exclaimed.

"Not everyone drinks their coffee bitter, Mr. Fancy Pants!" Kieran retorted, crossing his arms.

"I'm surrounded by lunatics," Elijah thought, sipping his coffee and savoring the rare moment of quiet—well, relative quiet.

Eventually, Visconti stormed into the living room, carrying his "ruined" coffee. "Elijah, tell Kieran that sweetened coffee is an abomination."

Without opening his eyes, Elijah replied, "Visconti, it's coffee. Not a diplomatic crisis."

Kieran appeared in the doorway, grinning smugly. "See? Elijah gets it."

Visconti groaned dramatically. "Of course you'd side with him. You both have no taste."

Elijah finally opened his eyes, giving both of them a tired yet amused look. "If you two don't settle this, I'm confiscating all the coffee in this dorm."

Kieran gasped. "You wouldn't dare."

"Try me," Elijah replied, raising an eyebrow.

The threat worked, and the two grudgingly retreated to the kitchen. Then Visconti went and made toast bread for them.

Then another fight broke out.

The sound of Kieran and Visconti bickering echoed through the dorm like an alarm clock that refused to snooze

"I'm telling you, Visconti," Kieran grumbled, pointing at a slightly burnt piece of toast on his plate, "You ruined breakfast! Look at this! It's charcoal!"

Visconti, unfazed, leaned against the kitchen counter with a smirk. "You're welcome. Now you'll appreciate edible food more. Consider it a life lesson."

"A life lesson?!" Kieran squawked. "You just don't know how to toast bread!"

Elijah closed his eyes, turning deaf ears, holding a steaming cup of coffee, entirely ignoring their argument.

His good mood was like armor, shielding him from their nonsense.

Kieran stormed toward him, holding the incriminating piece of toast as evidence. "Elijah, back me up here! This is a crime against humanity, right?"

Elijah blinked lazily, looking at Kieran with the energy of someone who had just woken up from a satisfying nap. "Hmm? Oh, sorry, I was imagining a world where I didn't have to listen to this first thing in the morning."

Visconti snorted, crossing his arms. "Even Elijah thinks you're being dramatic. It's just toast, Kieran."

Kieran glared at both of them, muttering under his breath about how no one understood his suffering.

He threw the toast in the trash with unnecessary force.

Elijah chuckled softly, swirling his coffee. 0Kieran, if that toast offended you so much, maybe it's time for you to learn how to cook."

"Oh, I can cook," Kieran shot back, puffing his chest out. "Just not breakfast. Breakfast is boring."

"Ah, yes," Visconti said, rolling his eyes. "Because burning water for instant noodles is a real culinary achievement."

Kieran gasped, clutching his chest like he'd been mortally wounded. "I'll have you know my noodles are a masterpiece! You just don't have the palate to appreciate them!"

Before Visconti could fire back, Elijah stood up, stretching with a relaxed sigh. "Alright, children, enough. Save your energy for whatever torture awaits us at the main building."

The mention of the main building made both Kieran and Visconti groan in unison.

"Ugh, new roles," Kieran complained, slumping into a chair. "I swear, if they put me on janitorial duty again, I'm going to riot."

Visconti raised an eyebrow. "You? Riot? You'd probably just trip over your mop."

Elijah couldn't help but chuckle as he went to rinse his mug. "No patrol today, though," he said, his voice almost sing-song. "That's something to celebrate."

Kieran perked up slightly at that. "True. No patrol means no random people whispering like we're some kind of circus act."

Visconti sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah, but new roles probably mean new headaches. Let's just hope they don't throw something ridiculous at us."

Elijah shrugged, grabbing his pocket from the counter. "Whatever it is, we'll handle it. Now, finish your squabbling and get ready. We've got less than an hour to be there."

As the three of them prepared for their meeting, Elijah's good mood remained intact, a small victory in itself.

No patrol, no nightmares, and no burnt toast on his plate—today was already shaping up to be a win.