Offside Hearts

The things left unsaid

The apartment was quiet, as it usually was. Darren locked the front door behind him and slipped off his sneakers before dropping his backpack by the entryway. Almost without thinking, his eyes darted toward the bedroom across the short hallway. Julian's door. Closed.

He paused, listening. Nothing. No footsteps. No music. No light slipping from beneath the door. Locked. Darren wasn't surprised. Julian rarely came back before midnight. Some nights, Darren was already asleep before he heard the front door creak open. Other mornings, he'd wake before sunrise for football practice only to find Julian's door shut once again, leaving him to wonder if his roommate had ever been home at all. With a quiet sigh, Darren turned away and walked into his own room.

Unlike the rest of the apartment, his room carried a comforting familiarity. The bed was neatly made, the curtains half-drawn to let in the fading evening light, and his desk sat exactly as he'd left it that morning. A psychology textbook rested beside a stack of carefully organized notes. Tomorrow's presentation waited patiently for him. He changed into a faded T-shirt and gray sweatpants before settling into his chair. For the next several minutes, the only sound in the room was the soft rustle of turning pages.

His presentation compared the theories of Carl Rogers and B. F. Skinner, two psychologists whose ideas had shaped modern psychology in very different ways. Skinner believed behavior was molded by consequences. Reward what you want repeated. Punish what you don't. Rogers believed something else entirely. People change best when they are met with empathy, understanding, and acceptance. Darren found himself lingering over Rogers' work longer than he intended. Not because it would earn him more marks. But because, somewhere deep down, he wanted to believe Rogers was right. His fingers absentmindedly tapped the edge of the page. Who would I have become... if someone had believed in me before expecting perfection? The thought lingered longer than it should have. His phone buzzed against the desk.

Mom. A small smile softened his features as he answered.

"Hi, Mom." "My darling boy," came her warm voice. "How's my favorite university student?" "I'm pretty sure I'm your only university student."

"Details," she teased. "How are you?"

"I'm okay." There was a brief pause. Then came the familiar hum. "Hmm."

Darren smiled to himself. "What?"

"You sound tired."

"It was a long day."

"Only a long day?" He leaned back in his chair. "You always know."

"I've been reading your voice since before you could talk."

A quiet laugh escaped him. The heaviness in his chest eased, if only a little. "So," she said gently, "do you want to tell me what happened?"

His smile faded. Olivia's voice echoed in his mind. "You're incompetent." He looked down at the open textbook. "It's nothing, Mom." "Just... school stuff." She didn't press. She never did. Instead, she said softly,

"Whatever it is, don't let one difficult moment convince you that's all there is." Darren closed his eyes briefly. "I'll try." "I know you will."

They talked for a few more minutes about home, about dinner, about whether he was sleeping enough before ending the call. Silence settled over the room once more. He looked back at his notes. Read the same paragraph. Then read it again. By the third attempt, the words had lost all meaning. With a frustrated sigh, he closed the textbook. Studying wasn't happening tonight. He reached for his phone, slipped his earbuds into place, and pressed play. North Star. The familiar melody wrapped around the quiet room. Almost immediately, Ethan's teasing voice surfaced in his memory. "You're an old man trapped in a twenty-three-year-old's body." Darren had only laughed. "Good music doesn't have an expiration date." He smiled to himself. Some jokes never got old. The steady rhythm gradually loosened the knot in his chest. The sting of the afternoon softened. His father's voice faded into the background. His thoughts slowed. Somewhere between the second song and the third, his eyes drifted shut. Outside, campus life carried on as the evening melted into night. Inside the apartment, only one bedroom remained occupied. The other stayed dark. And empty.

***************************************************

The alarm rang out at 6:30.

Darren groaned, and cut the alarm off before it could ring a second time.

For a brief moment, he lay still staring at the ceiling.

The presentation. Right. That was today.

With a sigh, he pushed himself out of bed and got ready. By the time he stepped into the shared living area, the apartment was exactly as he'd left it the night before.

Quiet.

Julian's bedroom door was shut.

Darren couldn't tell whether his roommate had come home sometime during the night or had never returned at all. He considered knocking. The thought disappeared as quickly as it came.

They barely knew each other.

After grabbing his backpack, he locked the apartment behind him and headed across campus.

The morning air was crisp, carrying the familiar hum of students beginning another day.

Some hurried toward lectures with coffee cups in hand. Others lingered beneath the trees, laughing over conversations that seemed far more interesting than their classes.

Darren checked the time on his phone. He still had enough time.

Until he remembered the classroom was in the Psychology Building on the opposite side of campus.

His pace quickened. As he rounded the corner near the student center, a familiar figure caught his attention.

Julian.

He stood a short distance away, hands tucked into the pockets of his hoodie. Facing him was Louisa Brooks.

Even from where Darren stood, it was obvious the conversation wasn't going well.

Louisa's brows were drawn together. She spoke quickly, her hands moving with every sentence.

Julian barely reacted. He didn't interrupt. He didn't argue.

He simply stared somewhere beyond her, his expression unreadable.

Louisa threw her hands into the air.

Whatever she had hoped to hear… She clearly wasn't getting it.

She shook her head and turned away, disappearing into the stream of students without looking back. Julian remained where he was.

Motionless.

A few seconds later, he adjusted the strap of his backpack and walked in the opposite direction.

Darren frowned. What was that about? The question lingered only briefly.

His phone buzzed with a calendar reminder.

Psychology Presentation – 8:00 a.m.

His eyes widened.

“Oh, no.”

Breaking into a jog, he hurried toward the Psychology Building. The last thing he needed was to be late.