Lucas woke before the morning bell and knew right away he wasn't going back to sleep.
It wasn't panic. Not exactly. Panic was hot and obvious. This felt lower than that, heavier. Like something had settled behind his ribs during the night and decided it was staying there.
He sat on the edge of the bed for a while, elbows on his knees, staring at the narrow strip of light under the door. The dorm was still mostly quiet. Somewhere down the hall, someone coughed. Pipes groaned softly in the walls. A shower turned on, then off. Ordinary sounds. They should have helped. They didn't.
He got up, splashed cold water over his face, and stood there longer than he meant to, palms braced on the sink, watching droplets slide off his chin.
The mirror didn't give him anything useful. Same face. Same tired eyes. Same body that had been carrying too much pressure for too long and somehow hadn't cracked yet.
His interface chimed while he was drying his hands.
