It was a frantic morning.
He woke up suddenly, already late. Outside his window, birds chirped somewhere high in the sky. Their distant calls felt strangely calm compared to the chaos in his room.
Clothes were scattered across the floor, books lay open and forgotten, and the weak morning light barely cut through the mess.
He hadn't slept. Thoughts kept him awake all night, circling endlessly in his mind.
There was no time for breakfast. Standing in front of the mirror, he hurriedly adjusted his tie, his tired eyes meeting his reflection.
What good will it even do if I graduate?
The thought lingered for just a second before he pushed it aside.
Grabbing his bag, he rushed out of the house and sprinted toward the bus station. But when he arrived, breathless and desperate, no buses were in sight. He clenched his jaw.
There was only one option left.
He started running.
After running nearly one and a half kilometers, he finally reached the university gates, barely catching his breath. His chest rose and fell rapidly, his face flushed, and his legs felt heavier with every step.
By the time he entered the classroom, the lecture had already started.
The teacher didn't even look at him.
His lateness had become so routine that even punishment lost its meaning. There was no scolding, no interruption. Just silent acceptance. He paused near the door, scanning the room. Rows of students sat half-awake, half-interested, their attention scattered between notebooks and meaningless whispers.
He walked to the fourth seat in the middle row and dropped into it quietly. His eyes instinctively searched for the only two people he could talk to, his friends. Both seats were empty. A faint disappointment crossed his face before fading just as quickly.
Of all days…
He leaned back slightly and exhaled. Maybe it was better this way. Less distraction. Less noise. Just study, he told himself. Stop thinking.
But boredom crept in almost immediately. He glanced around again.
The class felt artificial. Conversations sounded forced. Laughter felt rehearsed. People argued over nothing, trying too hard to impress, especially when someone was watching.
To him, they didn't feel real. More like background characters moving, talking, existing, but empty. NPCs.
He rested his chin on his hand, his eyes drifting toward the window. Outside, somewhere far above, birds were still flying.