After the chaos of PE and classes, I thought free time would be a relief. I was wrong.
The campus sidewalks were crowded, students rushing between buildings or lounging on benches, chatting and laughing like they had it all figured out. I shuffled along beside Jason, who walked with that easy, confident gait that somehow made me feel even smaller.
"So," Jason said, nudging me lightly, "how's the hero of the dodgeball battlefield feeling today? Nose still intact?"
I groaned. "I'm never going to live that down, am I?"
"Not a chance," he said with a grin. "But hey, that's what makes it legendary."
I shot him a glare but couldn't hide the faint twitch of a smile. Despite the humiliation, Jason had a way of making everything feel less… permanent. Less soul-crushing.
---
We made it to the dorm lounge, a small space with worn couches, a couple of computers, and the faint smell of instant ramen lingering in the air. Jason flopped onto a couch like it was his throne. "So, survivor of PE, what's your plan? Nap? Cry? Or maybe just stare at the wall?"
"None of those," I muttered, dropping into the chair across from him. "I just… I need to figure out what to do about all of this."
"All of this?" He raised an eyebrow. "Your nosebleed, your epic fails, your hopeless crush?"
I stared at him. "Yeah."
Jason shrugged. "Not sure what I expected. But listen, man… the first step is admitting you need to change. That's already more than half the people here manage."
I blinked. "Change… like… physical stuff? Mental stuff? Social?"
"Everything," he said casually, kicking back. "You can't be passive forever. You saw Emily, right? You want to be someone who can exist in her world without tripping over your own feet."
I swallowed hard, realizing he wasn't mocking me this time. Not really. There was truth there, and it stung a little.
---
We spent the next half-hour talking about coding assignments, professors, and our schedules. Jason's approach was casual, jokey, but his advice had weight beneath the humor.
"Bro, you don't have to transform overnight," he said. "Tiny moves. Start with one thing: gym, better posture, practice talking. Stuff you can actually do without dying."
I nodded, realizing I could at least try. Just small improvements, day by day.
"You ever play games?" Jason asked suddenly.
I blinked. "Sometimes. Not much."
"Good. Let's waste some free time, then."
Before I could protest, he pulled out his laptop. He booted up a co-op game, throwing me into a chaotic digital world filled with explosions, missions, and NPCs I didn't understand.
I tried. I failed. Repeatedly.
Jason laughed. "Okay, so maybe you're still bad at everything. But at least it's fun. And hey, practice makes perfect, right?"
I laughed awkwardly, realizing I hadn't felt this… relaxed in weeks. The gym, the lectures, the embarrassment—it had been relentless. But here, playing a ridiculous game with someone who didn't judge, I could just exist.
---
After the game, we got hungry and raided the vending machine for instant noodles. Jason leaned back, stirring his cup of noodles dramatically. "So, the plan for self-improvement. You gonna start tomorrow? Or are we gonna call PE round two a traumatic event you never recover from?"
"I'm… thinking about it," I admitted. "I want to start small. Gym, better posture, maybe work on my coordination."
"Good," he said, grinning. "And don't forget coding. You actually like that stuff. Can't just focus on physical glory."
I nodded, appreciating the balance. Physical, mental, social. Tiny moves in all directions.
---
The conversation drifted, casual and easy. We joked about professors, complained about cafeteria food, and shared small personal quirks. Jason's humor made me feel like I belonged somewhere, like I had a voice, like being awkward wasn't a crime.
Somewhere between laughter and noodle broth, I realized I'd spent hours without thinking about how awkward I was. Or how invisible I felt.
Jason caught me staring out the window, probably lost in thought again. "Daydreaming about Emily?" he asked, eyebrow raised.
I froze. "…Maybe."
He smirked. "Bro, you're hopeless. But that's why I like you."
I glared, but inside, I couldn't help smiling. Maybe hopeless was fine if it meant having someone who understood. Someone who didn't mock me for existing, even when I bled on the gym floor.
---
Later, as the sun dipped low, casting orange light over the campus, I sat quietly on my bed, thinking about the day.
Emily hadn't been directly involved—no smiles, no interactions. But she was still there in my mind, a spark that kept me moving.
And Jason… Jason was there too, grounding me, making the world feel manageable.
I realized something important: I wasn't ready to suddenly become someone else. I didn't need to. I just needed to start. Tiny steps. One thing at a time.
I could improve. Not for anyone else. Not for Emily, not for Michael. But for me. And if the world noticed along the way, that would just be… a bonus.