[POV ORION]

  The ceiling of my university apartment. White. Smooth. Just as utterly empty as I was.

  I wasn't poor. That was the great cosmic joke of my existence. My parents' inheritance, a pile of money that arrived too early thanks to a damned car crash, covered everything. The bills, the university, even the pizza for the guys. I didn't have to lift a finger if I didn't want to, and most days, I didn't want to. It was a golden cage, bright on the outside, but inside... just a hollow space where a purpose, a real "me," was supposed to be.

  My phone arm yanked me out of the stillness. A digital beep that felt like a soft kick. Introduction to Applied Economics. My only css of the day, my only obligation. Another chunk of time to burn. I stretched, feeling the familiar crack in my back, a reminder that my body, at least, still worked.

  I got up, shuffling through the apartment's tolerable mess. Abandoned joysticks, coffee mugs with a halo of mold, clean clothes piled up waiting for days to be folded. I grabbed a random shirt from the floor—it smelled clean enough—brushed my teeth with the same inertia as breathing, and took a quick look in the mirror. Nothing new. The same old Orion Winst. Attractive, yes, but with those sunken eyes that only I noticed.

  In the kitchen, the familiar aroma of burnt toast and strong coffee told me Jake and Leo were already up. My roommates. Good guys. The kind of guys who completed the perfect picture of the "carefree college student." Friendship with them was like a movie screen: bright, noisy, but at a safe distance.

  "Look who deigns to show up!" Jake’s voice, cheerful and loud as ever, echoed in the kitchen. His blonde hair was tousled, a half-chewed piece of toast in his hand. "We thought the inheritance had already paid for a butler to bring you breakfast in bed."

  I managed to force a smile, that mask that came so naturally to me. "I don't have your level of privilege, you simple mortals."

  Leo, always quieter, looked up from his philosophy textbook, which he was reading while eating breakfast. "Sora asked about you st night. She said she saw you looking thoughtful and was worried."

  Ah, Sora. Her name alone was enough to settle a strange warmth in my chest, a kind of sweet, familiar ache that refused to go out. She was the anchor in a sea of nothing. My best friend. The only person who seemed to look past the surface of Orion Winst, the guy with money. She was brilliant, ambitious, her future as clear as my own darkness. To me, she was perfection. The only light.

  "Yeah, I was thinking about the Economics assignment. It has me... thoughtful," I lied. The truth was the assignment worried me as much as what show to watch on Netflix. Which is to say, not at all.

  "Well, I haven't even started it," Jake ughed, without a hint of real concern. "But I know Sora already has it done. And proofread."

  "Of course, because Sora is a superior being. A role model for us all," Leo quipped, though his tone held a touch of genuine admiration.

  I nodded, the bowl of cereal in my hand, my gaze drifting to the window. The bright blue sky was a cruel reminder of all the promises the world seemed to hold for everyone but me. I didn't feel jealousy toward them, or even toward Sora. Just a kind of quiet resignation. I wasn't built for it. For building. For wanting something.

  After a quick breakfast and some empty jokes with Jake and Leo, I headed to the university. The campus was a buzz of life. Students ughing, studying under trees, couples holding hands. Connections. Future. Pns. I simply observed, a spectator in the front row of a movie that wasn't mine.

  I arrived at the Applied Economics cssroom just in time. The professor was already in his monologue about supply and demand. I took my usual seat at the back, pulled out my notebook, knowing my notes would be as scattered as my thoughts.

  And there she was. Sora.

  Sitting in the third row, her brown hair pulled back in a perfect ponytail, her back straight, her eyes fixed on the professor. She was taking notes with a concentration I could only envy. Beside her, a group of students were ughing quietly, and she joined them with natural ease. Sora wasn't just brilliant; she was magnetic. She was the center of her own universe, and I, Orion, was just a distant satellite, barely visible in her orbit.

  During the css break, Sora approached my desk, her smile a momentary balm. "So you actually came. I'm gd. That assignment is going to cost us a failing grade if we don't buckle down."

  "I'm on it," I said, and it almost sounded convincing. Her closeness was a comfort and a torture at the same time. She smelled of fresh soap and the books she studied. She smelled of hope.

  "Are you okay, Orion?" she asked, her smile softened by a spark of real concern in her eyes. "You seem... thoughtful. More than usual."

  "Just exam pressure," I lied. How could I expin the void to her? How could I tell her that the only reason I tried to pretend to care about anything was her?

  She seemed to accept it, but her eyes lingered on me for a second longer than necessary, as if trying to read the hidden script of my soul. "Well, if you need help with notes or the assignment, you know. We can meet at the library. Or my favorite coffee shop. My treat."

  "Sure," I said, my heart giving a traitorous lurch. "I'd love that."

  The rest of the css passed in a haze. Sora's invitation. A casual invitation, yes, but to me, it was a thread of hope, as thin as a spider's. Maybe not everything was lost. Maybe with her by my side, I could find a purpose. The love I felt for Sora was not the clumsy impulse of a teenager. It was the silent desperation of a man looking for a reason to exist. And she was that reason. She could be.

  After css, we parted ways. She left with her other friends, discussing projects and weekend pns. I found myself alone again, walking through the crowded hallways. Jake and Leo had already left for their own activities. Loneliness didn't bother me; I was used to it. It was my natural state.

  Returning to my apartment, I y back down on the sofa, staring at the ceiling. The immacute white. The void. But this time, the image of Sora, smiling and concerned about me, popped into my mind. She was the only one who managed to penetrate that fog of apathy. She was my st hope.

  That night, as the moon peeked shyly from behind the buildings, I made a decision. One that, to me, was as monumental as any war or conquest. A decision that, unknowingly, would unleash a catastrophe much greater than my own life.

  Tomorrow.

  Tomorrow I would tell her. Tomorrow I would confess my love to Sora. And the fate of Orion Winst would be sealed, one way or another.