Zyron's Pov
Austen University's parking lot was still alive with remnants of the intramural games—noise, as it were, composed of laughter, cheers, and the faint reverberation of drums—but for me, it was all distant. I could still see the whole lot, hear the noises, but it all felt like a past event that I wasn't a part of.
Weighted, I stomped across the pavement, both of my hands shoved into my pants' pockets. The short autumn wind and the beautiful late afternoon sun hardly registered with me. My inside were all very dim.
"You're here! Oh, bud! "
The gym's exits were Timothy's location. The sporty-finished bow was in his hand and an arrow was leaned up under one arm. The wind had tousled his hair and there were the little sun-beams of gold in his eyes. Usually, I would have at least half smiled to him or nodded in his direction. Today I didn't even stop.
Uttering as if I had not heard him, I walked on.
