Phrase II: Silence and Friendship

  Kai woke slowly.

  No alarm.

  No rush.

  Just warmth under the blanket and the quiet press of morning light trying to filter through the blinds.

  Something from a dream lingered.

  It was fleeting.

  A shape, maybe.

  A laugh.

  Warmth.

  Someone standing close enough that he felt the warmth.

  He stayed still, letting the weight of his dream settle.

  It was nice—whatever it was. That much he knew.

  Even though details were already pulling away from him.

  Like ashes in the wind.

  His fingers curled once at his side.

  To feel the motion.

  To be sure he was still there.

  Eventually, the ceiling made its return.

  Flat. Pale.

  Lonely.

  A faint crack in the paint, directly above the desk lamp.

  He pursed his lips.

  Then turned his head.

  The other bed hadn’t changed.

  Same sharp corners.

  Same crinkled plastic.

  Same vacancy.

  He sat up, slowly.

  And rubbed his face once.

  The friction helped. A little.

  He swung his legs off the side of his bed.

  His toes brushed the floor.

  It was cold.

  He reached for his phone.

  No new messages.

  Just a promo email from the campus bookstore—something about spirit gear.

  He locked the screen, letting the phone drop onto the mattress.

  Kai glance toward the window.

  Light, but not bright.

  Slightly overcast, maybe.

  Sunday...

  His eyes returned to the second bed.

  Kai sighed, not loud, but enough to feel something exhale.

  He scratched his jaw, then stood.

  He moved toward the door, pulling on a hoodie mid-step.

  Keys— Check.

  Wallet— Check.

  With his hand on the knob, he paused.

  He turned around, taking one last look.

  The vague hum of the radiator filled the space.

  Despite the noise, it felt silent.

  "Right" he muttered.

  Then he left.

  The door clicked shut.

  The silence behind him folded itself neatly back into place.

  The hallway carpet muffled his steps.

  Some shoes left it flattened into directional paths, a kind of makeshift trail system.

  Kai followed none of them in particular—he just walked.

  The common area buzzed ahead.

  Laughter spilled out first, then music—low, bassline thrumming like a heartbeat through drywall.

  He hovered just past the threshold, his hand brushing a little indent in the plaster beside the entrance.

  Not hesitating.

  Just…

  Idle touch.

  Inside, couches had already become territories.

  A guy in socks with planets on them was ranting about someone moving his almond butter.

  Across from him, two girls compared zodiac signs and cursed whoever assigned them bunk beds. Another couch had a half-built cardboard fort at one end and a blanket cocoon on the other.

  Movement.

  Noise.

  Human clutter.

  He didn’t step in.

  Not fully.

  He lingered, his arms folded loosely across his hoodie, like he was waiting on someone. As if he had a reason to stay.

  Words floated to him.

  "...already snoring like a dying tractor."

  "—but she brought a rice cooker. So honestly, I forgive her."

  "He’s cool. Quiet, though. It’s kinda nice?"

  Kai’s eyes flicked over the group.

  No one was looking at him.

  Not like he wanted them to.

  But something about the chaos made the quiet of his own room feel more deliberate.

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  Less like bad luck.

  More like choice.

  He shifted his weight.

  "Hey! You’re from East, right?" A voice cut in, sudden and effortless.

  Kai blinked.

  Then turned.

  A guy with slightly crooked glasses and a tie-dye shirt waved him over like they’d met before. Maybe they had.

  Orientation was a blur of names he didn’t store.

  "Yeah?" Kai answered.

  The guy grinned. "I saw you dragging that duffel. You looked like you were about to fight it."

  Kai huffed out a short laugh. "It would have deserved it."

  They talked.

  Nothing huge, or noteworthy.

  Just back-and-forths about cereal brands, where the good vending machines were, the curse of pre-installed shower curtains.

  The guy’s name might’ve been Derek or Devon—he never said.

  And Kai never asked.

  It didn’t matter...

  It felt easy, in a temporary way.

  Then a text beeped on the stranger’s phone.

  "Shit—I gotta run. My roommate locked himself out." He rolled his eyes, already stepping away. "Catch you later?"

  Kai nodded, halfway into a smile. "Yeah."

  The guy was already gone.

  Leaving a gap where his presence had been.

  No number.

  No handle.

  No point of reference.

  Just—gone.

  Kai stood there for another moment, hands sunk into the front pocket of his hoodie.

  The couch debates continued.

  Someone mentioned a prank war.

  Someone else swore retaliation with glitter.

  He didn’t move in to join.

  Instead, he turned back the way he came.

  The hallway emptied behind him.

  The common room faded into a distance hum—like something half-remembered from another room in the house.

  Kai didn’t go back to his room.

  Instead, he let his steps redirect.

  Not aimlessly this time.

  He forgot the campus map in his bedroom. But he didn’t need it.

  He already knew where he was going.

  Kai just wanted to walk it for real.

  The afternoon stretched above him, soft and grey.

  Concrete paths curved out from the dorms like veins, threading between red-brick buildings and patches of trimmed grass where a few students were sprawled, half-laughing, half-asleep.

  Kai kept to the side.

  A girl zipped past on a longboard.

  A pair of guys passed in the opposite direction. They were mid-debate about fantasy football trades. Somewhere nearby, a bell chimed the half-hour.

  His first class building was smaller than he pictured.

  It was older, with thin windows and a weather-worn plaque above the doors.

  He stood at the base of its steps for a moment, tilting his head.

  Kai didn’t go inside.

  He didn’t need to.

  He just imagined it.

  The hallway.

  Bright.

  Slightly scuffed tiles.

  The smell of dry-erase markers and spilled coffee.

  He’d find the classroom easily enough.

  There’d be tables instead of desks, probably.

  People would already be talking when he walked in.

  Maybe someone would wave him over.

  He pictured setting his stuff down next to the stranger.

  They’d talk about the syllabus.

  Or some professor from last semester who was "literally unhinged."

  Maybe he’d say something.

  Maybe they’d laugh.

  Maybe it would be easy.

  The thought surprised him.

  His footsteps had stopped.

  He stood there, now at the top of the steps.

  His hands were in his hoodie pocket.

  His gaze was fixed somewhere beyond the glass doors.

  He could almost feel the buzz of fluorescent lights.

  The scrape of a chair.

  The warmth of sitting near someone—almost touching.

  Perhaps a glance could even mean something.

  He smiled.

  Small.

  Unprompted.

  Like the start of something—

  Not real.

  —but possible.