Chapter 12 : Careful Steps

Weeks passed.

The sharpness of the whispers had dulled, not because they stopped, but because Evan had learned to live with them.

Just like in his previous colleges.

People stared. Some smirked when he walked by. Others whispered behind cupped hands or coughed slurs under their breath. And still, Evan kept his eyes down, his voice quiet, his presence small.

He was used to it.

This wasn't new.

He no longer expected kindness, not from classmates, not from strangers. He didn't try to speak first, didn't make eye contact. He became, once again, a shadow passing through the halls of a college that had never truly welcomed him.

The only difference now was: he had stopped hoping.

--

It was raining lightly that afternoon. The library was quiet, filled with the gentle sound of pages turning and raindrops tapping against the windows.

Evan sat in a far corner, behind a tall shelf, his lunchbox open in front of him.

Today's meal was simple: rice with steamed vegetables and boiled egg. He had stopped trying to make anything "cute" or "generous." It was just food. Just enough.

He picked at it slowly, silently chewing.

Then, suddenly..

A chair pulled out across from him.

Evan looked up, startled.

Mikael.

The same guy from the soccer team. The senior who had bumped into him weeks ago. Still wearing his practice jacket, hair a little messy, and a faint scent of rain clinging to his collar.

"Hey," Mikael said casually, sitting down like they did this every day.

Evan blinked. "Uh… hi."

Mikael rested his arms on the table, looking completely at ease. "Didn't mean to sneak up on you. Just saw you sitting here and figured I'd say hey again."

Evan nodded slowly, unsure. His fingers gripped his fork tightly.

Mikael smiled. "I didn't properly introduce myself last time. Mikael Lang. Senior. Business major. Midfielder and captain for the soccer team. Also allergic to pineapple, terrible at math, and very much not a morning person."

Evan almost laughed at that, but stopped himself. He just nodded again.

"What about you?" Mikael asked, voice kind but curious. "What are you studying?"

Evan hesitated.

"Uh… Literature. First year," he replied, his voice soft.

Mikael nodded. "Cool. You like reading?"

Evan gave a small shrug. "Sometimes. Depends."

He wasn't trying to be rude. He just didn't want to invite anything too open. He had learned that the moment he let people in, they either pushed him out or used the entryway to hurt him.

Mikael seemed to pick up on his guarded tone. He leaned back a little, still relaxed. "You don't have to talk if you don't want to. Just figured it's kinda dumb eating alone in a giant quiet room."

Evan looked at his food, unsure of how to respond. It wasn't often people wanted to just talk. No challenge. No sarcasm. No games.

Still… he didn't trust it.

He couldn't.

Mikael watched him for a moment, then asked, "Do you bring lunch every day?"

Evan nodded. "Yeah. Cheaper."

"You cook yourself?"

"Yeah."

"Impressive," Mikael said honestly. "Most people live off vending machines and regret."

That made Evan smile, just a little.

There was a silence between them then. Not uncomfortable. Just… still.

Until Evan, almost without realizing, asked, "Do you watch what you eat?"

Mikael raised an eyebrow. "Like for training?"

Evan nodded slowly. "Yeah. I mean… you're an athlete. You probably have to eat well, right?"

Mikael chuckled. "Pretty much. Not strict all the time, but yeah, I try. Clean carbs, good protein, lots of water. Why?"

Evan looked down at his food, then back up, carefully. "I was just wondering. Thinking about… losing some weight."

Mikael didn't react the way most people did.

He didn't laugh.

He didn't say "You should."

He didn't even look surprised.

He just nodded thoughtfully. "If that's something you want for you, I think that's a great idea."

Evan blinked. "You do?"

Mikael met his eyes with a small, honest smile. "Yeah. Why not? But only if you want it. Not for anyone else."

For a second, Evan didn't know what to say.

It had been so long since someone spoke to him like that. Like he mattered. Like he wasn't a punchline.

And something deep in his chest, something bruised and quiet.. began to stir.