The cursor blinked on the screen, taunting him.
Luke rubbed his eyes, the glow of the laptop the only light in the room. The essay prompt glared back at him:
Describe a challenge you've faced and how it shaped you.
He'd written and deleted the same sentence twelve times.
My sister died, and—
No.
When I was seventeen, my life—
Too dramatic.
Grief is like—
He groaned and slammed the laptop shut.
The apartment was silent except for the hum of the refrigerator and the occasional creak of the floorboards as Daniel moved around his room. Luke knew he should sleep—it was past 2 a.m., and he had school in the morning—but every time he closed his eyes, he saw Lila's handwriting on that birthday card.
When you're ready.
He wasn't ready.
He opened the laptop again.
This time, he didn't try to write an essay. He opened a blank document and typed:
Dear Lila,
I got into a fight with Daniel today. Not a real fight. Just the kind where we both know we're pissed but don't say why. I think it's because I told him I might not go to college. He didn't yell. He just got that look on his face—the one you used to get when I said something stupid. Like you wanted to shake me but also hug me at the same time.
I don't know what to do. The money's there. The applications are due. But it feels like if I leave, I'm leaving you behind. Which is stupid, because you're already gone. But.
He stopped. His fingers hovered over the keys.
The bedroom door creaked open. Daniel stood in the doorway, hair rumpled, squinting against the light of the screen. "You're still up?"
Luke minimized the document. "Couldn't sleep."
Daniel shuffled into the kitchen. Luke heard the microwave beep, the clatter of a spoon. A minute later, Daniel reappeared with two mugs of hot chocolate—the cheap, powdered kind Lila used to make when they were kids. He set one in front of Luke.
"You're gonna burn out before graduation," Daniel said.
Luke wrapped his hands around the mug. The heat seeped into his palms. "I'm not even sure I'm going."
Daniel stilled. "What?"
Luke couldn't look at him. "College. I don't know if it's the right move."
Daniel sat down across from him. His voice was careful. "What's the alternative?"
"I don't know. Get a job. Stay here."
"Here," Daniel repeated.
Luke finally met his gaze. "Yeah."
Daniel's expression was unreadable. Then, slowly, he said, "You don't have to stay for me."
Luke's throat tightened. "I'm not—"
"If you don't want to go, that's one thing. But if you're staying because you think I'll fall apart without you—" Daniel shook his head. "I won't."
Luke stared at him. The words hung between them, heavy and true.
Daniel took a sip of his hot chocolate. "Besides, Lila would kill me if I let you throw away a free ride."
Luke laughed, sudden and wet. "Yeah. She would."
Daniel nudged the mug toward him. "Finish your essay. Then sleep."
Luke reopened the document. This time, he didn't delete a single word.