The Terms of an Alpha ✔️

t w e n t y - e i g h t

Saint was well aware cramming didn't help much, but he had missed almost a week of studying, so since he had been back at his dorms his life had been as follows: wake up, eat, study, eat, study, shower, sleep, and repeat.

However, the instant he opened his notebook he regretted it. Ender had apparently taken the liberty of "decorating" the margins of his notes with doodles. Each drawing was a painful reminder of Ender, but Saint couldn't bring himself to close the book. Some of the drawings were pretty impressive too.

One of them appeared to be a drawing of an eye. Saint absentmindedly touched his own eye and eyebrow. The drawing had an eyebrow that followed a straight line before a small arch, and it didn't extend a millimeter past the eye. As Saint felt the page, he traced his own eyebrow. The drawing had to be of Saint. He flipped the page.

The next drawing was a cartoon version of the tv show character Dwight Schrute from The Office. Saint laughed at the outlandish features. They had spend countless hours bingeing that show together. He could remember the time Ender curled up next to him on his small dorm bed as they watched. Or the time he lied in between Ender's legs on his lap as they watched on Ender's flatscreen.

With a sigh, he flipped the page again. Ender must have been extremely bored at this point because the page was filled with tiny drawings, creating a cluttered, beautiful mess. At the very center, there was a heart with "EK + SD" written inside. While it was similar to the elementary action of writing one's initial and their crush on tree bark, the letters were written so beautifully in a flowing, cursive font. Saint let out a light laugh, thinking of Ender writing that. It was humorous and juvenile, and just immature enough for Ender to write as a joke. He moved his eyes across the page to see a lot of little things that reminded Saint of them. There was a doodle of McDonald's french fries across from a UCLA hoodie drawing, which was above a miniature portrait of waves under a night, moonlit sky.

What really stuck out to Saint though was the almost perfect replica of graffiti art that said "Fuck Being Golden." Saint's chest became uncomfortably tight. His feelings had been all over the place and looking through this wasn't helping. His knee bounced up and down, a sign of his nervous jitter.

He couldn't do this right now. He had a final to take! His last final for his Undergrad degree. His phone rang, and he eagerly reached for it. For once, he was thankful he forgot to leave his phone on silent as he studied. He needed the distraction. A picture of his mom popped up, simultaneously comforting and grounding him.

"Hey ma," he greeted.

"Saint! Oh, honey, it is so nice to hear your voice! I did not think you would pick up. Figured you had your nose buried in a textbook with how much you've been studying."

Saint huffed. She wasn't far off. "My last final's today, so I figured it is what it is, right?" His mother loved saying that line whenever he was stressed.

"Yeah, baby. You're going to do fine, and you've already been accepted into medical school. One bad grade won't be the end of the world."

"I know you're right. Honestly, things have been so chaotic recently, it kind of feels nice to just lose myself in whatever I'm studying."

"Is everything alright over there? Do you need me to come? Sage and I can help you pack up if you need our help," she offered. Packing up his dorm was the least of his problems though.

"No, no. It's fine." Plus, he knew his mom was way too busy to take off work to help him pack up. And he knew Sage definitely wouldn't have wanted to help. "I'm just dealing with personal issues." His voice raised at the end, making it sound more like a question than a statement.