The campus was loud.

Too loud.

Not in the obvious way—no screaming, no chaos—but in the way people existed around you. Laughter bouncing off walls. Conversations overlapping. Shoes scuffing across tile. Voices that didn’t belong to you, but somehow still pressed into your head like they did.

I hate it.

No—that wasn’t right.

I don’t hate them. I hate the noise. The feeling of being… surrounded. Watched, even when no one’s actually looking. Like I don’t belong here.

Because I don’t.

Twenty-two years old.

A freshman.

God, that sounds pathetic when I actually think about it.

Most people here are eighteen, nineteen—barely out of high school. They walk around like they already know who they are. Like they’ve always belonged in places like this.

And then there’s me.

Late start. Late everything.

Different.

Again.

I tug my sleeve down over my hand, fingers curling into the fabric like that’s somehow grounding.

It’s stupid.

No one knows.

No one cares.

And yet—

I feel it.

Every time someone glances at me too long.

Every time I hear, “What year are you?”

Every time I answer, “Freshman,” and see that flicker of confusion.

I exhale slowly.

“Get a grip, Caoimhe.”

Muttering it under my breath helps. A little.

I just need somewhere quiet.

Somewhere empty.

Somewhere I don’t feel like I have to exist for anyone else for five minutes.

Food. Silence. That’s it.

That’s all I want.

⸻

You walk down the hallway, tray balanced carefully in your hands.

It’s quieter here.

Not completely empty, but close enough. Most of the lecture rooms are unused this time of day. Doors closed. Lights dimmed. A few muffled voices here and there, but nothing overwhelming.

Better.

You scan the doors as you pass them, looking for one that feels… right. Or at least empty enough.

One of them is slightly open.

You pause.

Then push it open just a little more with your shoulder.

Inside—dim lighting, rows of seats, no professor, no students.

Perfect.

You step in, letting the door fall shut behind you with a soft click.

Relief settles in your chest almost instantly.

Finally.

You move toward the middle row, setting your tray down, sliding into a seat. The plastic chair creaks faintly under your weight, but it’s nothing compared to the noise outside.

You breathe out.

Slow.

Quiet.

Peace.

For a moment, everything is still.

No eyes on you.

No questions.

No expectations.

Just you.

You reach for your food—

And then you hear it.

A sound.

Soft.

Barely there.

A breath.

A quiet laugh.

Your hand pauses midair.

You frown slightly, turning your head.

You’re not alone.

The realization hits a second too late.

Your gaze shifts toward the front of the lecture room—and that’s when you see them.

Two figures.

Close.

Too close.

Pressed together like the rest of the world doesn’t exist.

One of them is sitting on the desk.

The other standing between her legs.

Hands tangled.

Bodies leaning.

Lips—

Your breath catches.

They’re kissing.

Not quick. Not hesitant.

It’s deep. Messy. Like they’ve forgotten where they are.

Like nothing else matters.

Your chest tightens.

You didn’t mean to see this.

Didn’t mean to walk in on something that clearly wasn’t meant for anyone else.

You should leave.

You know you should.

But your feet don’t move.

Because then—

One of them shifts.

And you see her face.

Clear.

Recognizable.

Larissa De Le Calzada.