Chapter 4 _ The Quiet Morning
601 Words
Sunday mornings were Ethan’s favorite.
The dorm hallways were quiet, sunlight slipping through the blinds in soft, pale stripes. Most of the campus still slept, and for a few hours the world felt slower, lighter.
He sat at his desk, nursing a mug of tea, flipping through his economics notes half out of habit, half out of guilt for not doing more yesterday. His phone buzzed.
> Ryan: You awake?
Ethan: Yes.
Ryan: Good. I’m outside.
Ethan frowned and glanced toward the door. “Outside” could mean anything with Ryan—outside his building, outside the dorm room, or outside somewhere three blocks away expecting Ethan to join him.
Before he could type a reply, there was a knock.
He opened the door to find Ryan standing there, holding a white paper bag in one hand and looking like he’d just rolled out of bed—hoodie zipped halfway, hair sticking up in the back.
“You didn’t answer fast enough, so I came up,” Ryan said, brushing past him without waiting for an invitation.
Ethan closed the door, resisting the urge to comment on the fact that Ryan was wearing mismatched socks. “What is this?”
“Breakfast.” Ryan placed the bag on the desk and started unpacking it. “You like the egg tarts from that bakery near the bus stop, right? I had to line up for them. They sell out in like twenty minutes.”
Ethan blinked. “You went all the way across town for these?”
Ryan shrugged, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. “I was already up.”
Ethan didn’t point out that Ryan was never already up on a Sunday morning.
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They ate sitting by the window, the spring sunlight warming the edges of the room. The air was quiet except for the occasional murmur of voices drifting in from outside, and the soft sound of Ryan tapping the edge of his paper cup.
“You’re still thinking about the lantern, aren’t you?” Ryan said suddenly, glancing at Ethan.
Ethan hesitated. “A little.”
“Mine was boring. You want to hear it?”
Ethan’s instinct was to say no—he wasn’t sure he could handle knowing something so personal—but he nodded anyway.
Ryan smiled faintly. “I wrote that I wanted everyone I care about to stay in my life. Simple, right?”
It was simple. And it made Ethan’s throat feel tight.
“What about you?” Ryan asked.
Ethan looked down at his tea. “It’s not something I can say out loud.”
Ryan studied him for a moment, then leaned back. “Fair enough. Some wishes work better if you keep them to yourself.”
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They spent the rest of the morning in easy silence—Ethan at his desk pretending to study, Ryan sprawled on the bed scrolling through his phone, occasionally reading out random facts just to make Ethan roll his eyes.
It felt ordinary. Comfortable. The kind of moment Ethan knew he’d remember later, when he was alone, wondering how friendship could feel this much like something more.
When Ryan finally stood to leave, he paused at the door. “Hey, Ethan?”
“Yeah?”
Ryan’s grin returned, but softer. “Next time I’ll bring coffee too. Tea’s nice, but you need the real stuff if you’re going to survive economics.”
And just like that, he was gone, leaving Ethan in the sunlight with the faint scent of warm egg tarts still in the air.
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- Writer
