Thursday morning, Noel's alarm went off at six AM—an ungodly hour he'd set to have time for last-minute revisions before his advisor meeting.
He reached to silence it and found the space beside him already empty, sheets cool.
Luca was in the kitchen, dressed for his early class, making coffee with mechanical efficiency.
"Morning," Noel said, voice rough.
"Hey." Luca poured two cups without asking. "Big day."
"Yeah."
"You'll do great."
"You don't know that."
"I know you. That's enough."
Noel wanted to believe him. Wanted to feel the confidence Luca seemed to have in him.
Instead, he just felt hollow, running on empty, the draft he'd somehow finished at three AM still feeling inadequate.
They drank coffee in silence, both too tired for real conversation, both carrying weight they couldn't quite articulate.
"I have to go," Luca said eventually, rinsing his cup. "Class at eight."
"Okay."
