Love after Death (S1) [Completed]

Chapter 36: The Masonry of a Secret Life

Miguel's POV

The studio was too loud, even in the silence. Every line I drew on my blueprint felt like a crack in a mirror. My hands, once my best tool, were shaking again. I could feel the other students looking-the "perfect" Miguel, the boy who survived a crash only to become a stranger. But it wasn't them I was afraid of. It was the smell of the ink turning into rain, and the cold metal of my desk feeling like a park bench from a life I shouldn't remember.

I tried to pack my portfolio, the one holding the plans for the new hospital wing. It felt heavy, like I was carrying a house made of secrets. I had pushed Liam away because he was too much. He was "fast," and I needed "slow." I told him I needed space, but space is just a big room for ghosts to play in.

As I walked, my grip gave out. My books started to slide. I closed my eyes, waiting for the crash.

But nothing hit the floor.

Two steady, rough hands caught everything. I looked up and saw Calix. He was the guy from the library who didn't look at me like I was a broken toy. He just had on a simple gray hoodie, looking like he belonged to the real world, not the gilded one I lived in.

"Gravity is a bully," he said. "Let me help. I'm heading to the archives. Walk with me?"

It wasn't a demand. It was just a choice. I let him take the heavy portfolio. As we walked across the courtyard, he didn't crowd me. He stayed a step away, giving me air.

"You look at your shoes too much," Calix said, looking up at the buildings. "Look at that arch. That's real stone. They don't build things like that anymore."

I looked up. For a moment, the noise in my head stopped. I wasn't a "miracle" or an heir. I was just a student looking at a wall.

"I'm just thinking," I whispered.

"Overthinking is just a slow way to drown," he replied gently.

Calix's POV

I saw him trembling before the books even slipped. It's a look I know well-the look of someone trying to hold up a collapsing ceiling with nothing but their bare hands. I stepped in and caught the weight before it hit the floor.

"Gravity is a bully," I said, keeping my voice level. "And you look like you've been fighting it all day."

He looked up, startled. "I can handle it," he muttered, though his knuckles were bone-white.

"I'm sure you can," I said, tucking his heavy portfolio under my arm. "But I'm heading to the archives anyway. It's a long walk to do with a shaky grip. Come on. Just a walk."

We stepped out into the courtyard. I kept a respectful distance, making sure I wasn't in his personal space. He was staring at the pavement like he was trying to solve a puzzle in the concrete.

"You look at your shoes too much, Thompson," I said, nodding toward the old library clock tower. "Look at that archway over there. That's real masonry. Most things today are just glass and ego, but that stone has stayed put for a hundred years. It's okay to look up. The sky isn't going to fall just because you noticed it."

He actually lifted his head. For a second, the tension in his jaw vanished.

"I'm just... thinking," he whispered.