The campus smelled of rain and grass that morning, a soft green scent that clung to the sidewalks and seeped through the cracks in the dorm windows. Jade hurried across the courtyard, backpack slung loosely over one shoulder, coughing lightly as he struggled against the persistent weight in his chest.
“Jade!”
He paused mid-step. Danielle was jogging toward him, backpack bouncing against his back, his bright grin cutting through the gray drizzle like sunlight.
“You’re late!” Danielle called out, though his tone held no real scolding, just excitement. “I was starting to think you’d turned into one of those people who actually enjoy being early.”
Jade managed a weak smile. “Hardly. I just… had a rough night.”
Danielle skidded to a stop beside him, brushing rain off his hair. “Rough night? You mean, stayed up reading Shakespeare again?”
Jade shook his head. “I was just… thinking.” He didn’t mention that part of that thinking involved his health, the coughing, the fatigue, or the feeling that every day was slightly heavier than the last.
Danielle, ever perceptive, gave a small nod. “Yeah, I get that. But hey, you made it out alive. That’s something.”
Jade snorted quietly, a laugh forced through the lingering tiredness. “I guess.”
“Come on, we’ve got class.” Danielle nudged him gently toward the building. “And after that? Library. I have notes to copy from you. You’re basically a walking encyclopedia, Jade.”
Jade shook his head again, but the corners of his lips lifted slightly. Danielle’s energy was infectious. Even on days when the world felt heavy, he could find a little relief in that bright, unrelenting optimism.
Lecture halls always felt colder than they looked in pictures, and today was no exception. Jade settled into his usual seat, opening his notebook with care. Danielle sat beside him, whispering idle jokes under his breath, which Jade tried to ignore while secretly smiling.
The professor droned on about the latest breakthroughs in medical research, Danielle scribbling notes with wild, almost comical enthusiasm. “Did you hear about the new nanotech study?” he whispered to Jade. “Apparently they can detect diseases before you even get sick! Imagine if they could do that for people like you.”
Jade stiffened slightly, caught off guard. Danielle noticed. “Hey, hey,” he said softly, tapping Jade’s hand. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I just” He hesitated, then whispered more seriously: “I worry about you, okay?”
Jade’s throat tightened. No one had ever said that to him quite like that, with such sincerity, without pity. “Thanks,” he murmured, and Danielle gave a small smile, satisfied for now.
After class, they made their way to the library. Rain had lightened to a drizzle, and the streets smelled fresh, earthy, and faintly of wet leaves. Jade walked beside Danielle, the older boy chattering about everything and nothing the latest anime, a bizarre cafeteria incident, and the professor’s unintentionally funny habit of pacing like a caged animal during lectures.
When they reached the library, Danielle immediately claimed the corner table they always used, stacking his notebooks in a chaotic tower. “You know,” he said, peering over at Jade’s neatly arranged notes, “you have this insane ability to make sense of chaos. You should charge people for tutoring they’d pay.”
Jade shrugged, his gaze dropping to his notebook. “I don’t tutor.”
“Yet,” Danielle added with a grin, then leaned back in his chair. “Anyway, how are you, really?”
Jade hesitated. “I’m… managing.”
Danielle studied him quietly, his usual brightness dimming slightly. Then he gave a quick, firm nod. “Okay. Just—don’t make me worry too much, alright? You need a break sometimes. You can’t carry everything on your own.”
Jade wanted to respond, but the words caught in his throat. Instead, he just nodded, feeling the comfort of a friend who didn’t judge, didn’t press, and simply was.
Hours passed as they worked side by side, the library quiet but for the soft scratch of pens and the occasional flipping of pages. Danielle was animated, discussing the medical breakthroughs in his classes, while Jade typed and wrote with methodical precision.
At one point, Danielle leaned over, nudging him. “Hey, want to grab something after this? Coffee? Tea? Or I can bribe you with donuts.”
Jade blinked. “I… I guess coffee would be okay.”
“Good. Don’t worry. I’ll handle the sugar.” Danielle winked, scribbling down a reminder in his notebook. “You deserve a little treat every now and then.”
Jade found himself smiling more genuinely than he had in days. For all the weight pressing down on him, for all the loneliness that often came with hiding his sickness, here was someone who simply cared. And that, strangely, made the world feel a little lighter.
Outside, the sky had begun to clear, letting shafts of sunlight spill over the courtyard. Jade and Danielle walked together, quiet but comfortable in the shared silence. Danielle swung his bag casually over one shoulder, glancing at Jade.
“You know,” he said softly, “no matter what happens, I’ve got your back. Always. Even if you try to hide it, even if you pretend you don’t need anyone. I see you.”
Jade swallowed hard. He wanted to argue, to say he didn’t need anyone but the truth hung between them like the faint warmth of the sun. He merely nodded, a small, grateful smile tugging at his lips.
Danielle grinned, squeezing his shoulder gently before saying, “Come on. Coffee. You earned it.”
Jade followed, letting himself be pulled along, feeling lighter than he had in weeks. For once, it wasn’t about surviving—it was about living, even in small increments, with someone who made the quiet moments feel safe.
That night, Jade sat at his desk, notebook open, Danielle’s energy lingering in his thoughts. There was a comfort in having someone to rely on, someone who saw him without judgment. Someone like Danielle reminded him that even in the midst of sickness and quiet struggles, connection was possible.
And for the first time in a long while, Jade felt like he wasn’t entirely invisible.
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and then Add to home screen.