The sky had dimmed into that early evening blue — soft, calm, the kind that lingered behind campus buildings like a secret.
Luca walked with his hoodie tugged halfway up, one earbud in, music low.
Not even halfway through the track, he tugged it out again. He couldn't focus. His mind was already two buildings ahead.
He passed a vending stall near the quad and hesitated.
His fingers curled tighter around the strap of his bag, but something about the glow of the fridge light — the rows of bottled teas, sodas, and neatly wrapped snacks — slowed him down.
He stepped in.
It was a quiet corner shop, tucked between a print center and an empty tutoring lounge. The woman behind the counter barely glanced up from her phone.
Luca scanned the rows.
Then, with more care than anyone might expect from him, he picked a bottle of peach green tea.
He remembered Noel sipping it during lunch—silent, steadying himself with sips like it anchored him. That image stuck with Luca, quiet but vivid.
