Chapter 11 : Back to the shadows

Days passed, blurred and heavy.

Evan barely spoke.

He left his dorm only when necessary, for class, for brief meals, and nothing else. The moment he stepped out, he kept his head down, shoulders tight, as if bracing for impact from a world that had turned hostile.

In the lecture hall, Lucas had moved to the far side of the room. A silent, deliberate distance. One that said more than words ever could.

Evan didn't expect eye contact. He didn't expect a greeting. But still, the coldness in Lucas's face, blank, indifferent, cut deeper than the insults had.

Every day after class, Lucas left quickly. No lingering. No glances. He would swing his bag over his shoulder and disappear through the door like Evan didn't exist.

And maybe now… he didn't.

Around campus, the whispers had grown teeth.

"That's him, right?"

"The one who tried to get with Lucas?"

"Does he even own a mirror?"

"So gross. Like, does he not get it?"

They rarely said his name.

But Evan knew.

And when he walked past certain groups, especially the louder, cockier ones.. he'd sometimes catch the jeers, just loud enough to hear:

"Yo, that's the gay chubby freak."

"Still cooking for your crush, princess?"

"Bet he writes love notes in ketchup."

He stopped bringing lunchboxes after that.

He stopped eating in the cafeteria too.

He would eat alone, behind the library or tucked away on a bench in the far garden. Someplace quiet, where no one would look at him. Where no one could see how empty his eyes had become.

The warmth he once felt, from Lucas, from being part of something.. had withered. He no longer smiled. No longer raised his hand in class. His notebooks were neat but lifeless. He wrote notes without reading them.

He had returned to the boy he was before this college.

Invisible.

Forgettable.

And broken in a way he didn't have words for.

---

It was during lunch break, another slow walk across the quad with his eyes glued to the ground, when he bumped into someone.

Literally.

A firm chest. Tall figure. Steady.

Evan stumbled slightly and looked up, startled, fully expecting another insult, another cold face, another boy ready to smirk and walk away.

Instead, he saw someone unfamiliar.

The guy was tall, around 5'11", with tanned skin, messy dark-brown hair, and a confident look in his sharp eyes. His jersey, half-unzipped, had the college's soccer team crest on the front. Captain's badge stitched in gold.

He looked at Evan with a brief flicker of curiosity, then concern.

"You okay, man?" the guy asked casually, offering a hand.

Evan hesitated, caught off guard. He hadn't heard a kind tone directed at him in what felt like forever.

"Y-yeah. Sorry," he mumbled, eyes darting away.

The guy tilted his head, still looking at him. "You're Evan, right?"

Evan's heart skipped. He knows my name?

"I've seen you around," the guy added, then gave a small nod. "I'm Mikael. I'm a year above. Captain of the soccer team."

He said it like it was just a fact, not a brag, not a warning. Just… information.

Evan managed a small nod. "Hi."

Mikael gave a relaxed smile. "Didn't mean to bump into you. You looked kinda spaced out."

Evan blinked. "Yeah. Just… tired."

Mikael studied his face for a second, then simply said, "Well. Watch where you're going next time. These cleats don't stop easy."

Then he walked past, giving Evan a gentle tap on the shoulder as he did.

No insults. No judgment. Just a brief, human moment.

Evan stood still long after he left, feeling something unfamiliar settle in his chest.

Not joy. Not yet.

But maybe… the first flicker of something like hope.