Chapter 10: First Glimpse

Caleb's alarm buzzed at 6:45 a.m., pulling him from a restless sleep filled with fragmented dreams of stars and unanswered apologies. He slapped it silent, lying still for a moment in the dim dorm light filtering through cheap blinds. Dev was already up, headphones on, cramming for an early exam. Caleb nodded a silent good morning, then headed to the communal bathroom for a cold shower anything to shake the fog.

By 8:00, he was dressed simply: jeans, a Riverside hoodie, backpack slung over one shoulder. His first class was Intro to Behavioral Psychology in the old brick building across the quad. He’d chosen the major deliberately understanding the mind might help him understand his own mess.

The quad was bustling with early birds: students sipping coffee, earbuds in, rushing to lectures. Caleb kept his head down, weaving through the crowd. He wasn't looking for Ethan. Not actively. But his eyes scanned anyway, a habit born of hope and guilt.

Then he saw him.

Ethan stood outside the student union, laughing with a small group. The flamboyant guy with blue-streaked hair—Alex, Caleb remembered from quick social media stalking he wasn't proud of gestured wildly, making the others crack up. A girl with buzzed hair—Mia? clutched her side, and a quieter guy smiled shyly.

But Ethan.

God, Ethan.

Morning light caught his dark hair, styled effortlessly now, nothing like the shy high school cut. He wore a fitted jacket over a graphic tee, jeans hugging his legs. Confident posture, easy smile. He looked... happy. Alive in a way Caleb never got to see back home.

Caleb slowed, half hidden behind a cluster of students waiting at a crosswalk. He couldn't hear the conversation, but Ethan's laugh carried a genuine, bright sound that punched Caleb in the gut.

For a moment, he let himself watch. Imagine walking over. Joining the circle. Saying something casual, earning that smile directed at him.

Reality snapped back. Ethan hated him. Deservedly.

The group started moving toward the psych building same direction as Caleb's class. He hung back, keeping distance. They entered the building ahead, voices echoing in the hall.

Caleb followed minutes later, slipping into the lecture hall for his class on the second floor. He claimed a seat in the middle, notebook out, trying to focus as the professor began.

But his mind wandered. What class was Ethan in now? Did he still love psychology like in high school? Was he seeing someone?

The thought twisted painfully.

After class, Caleb lingered in the hall, pretending to check emails. Students streamed out. No sign of Ethan.

He headed to the library next, a massive glass-and-brick structure in the campus center. Midmorning study session before his next lecture. The place was packed but quiet, whispers and keyboard clicks filling the air.

Caleb found a table on the second floor overlooking the main floor. He spread out textbooks, forcing himself into notes on classical conditioning.

An hour in, movement below caught his eye.

Ethan.

He entered with Alex, both carrying coffee cups, scanning for seats. They settled at a table directly in Caleb's line of sight one floor down, slightly to the left.

Caleb's breath caught. From this angle, hidden behind the railing, he could watch without being seen. Ethan shrugged off his jacket, revealing toned arms that spoke of regular gym time. He leaned over a textbook, pen tapping thoughtfully, while Alex chattered animatedly.

Ethan nodded, smiled, scribbled notes. Occasionally, he'd push hair from his eyes, a small gesture that sent Caleb reeling back to high school memories.

He shouldn't stare. It was creepy. Invasive.

But he couldn't look away.

This was the closest he'd been without confrontation. A glimpse of the life Ethan built without him. Friends. Routine. Peace.

Caleb's chest ached with regret. He'd robbed them both of this years ago. Cowardice in one moment, ripple effects forever.

His phone vibrated; a reminder for next class. He packed slowly, stealing one last look.

Ethan laughed at something Alex said, head tilting back.

Beautiful.

Caleb stood, slinging his bag. He wouldn't approach. Not today.

But the glimpse fueled him.

Back in the dorm that night, journal open again.

Saw him with friends. Laughing. Happy. I did that to pushed him to build this without me. But he's stronger for it. God, I want in that world. Have to earn it. No rushing. Just... be better.

He closed it, resolve hardening.

Patience.

One glimpse at a time.

The path was long.

But he'd walk it.

As the evening wore on, Caleb couldn't settle. Dev was out at a study group, leaving the room quiet. He paced, memories flooding: high school hallways where he'd catch Ethan at his locker, heart racing for reasons he denied. The group project junior year they'd been paired for—excuses to text late, laughs over stupid psych facts.

He'd felt it then. The pull. Ignored it until it exploded that night under the stars.

Now, seeing Ethan thrive twisted the knife, but also lit a fire. If Ethan could rebuild so beautifully, maybe Caleb could too.

He opened his laptop, pulling up the campus events page. An LGBTQ+ alliance mixer next week. Too soon? Maybe. But attending and supporting could be a start. Anonymous. From afar.

Another entry in the journal:

The way he smiles now free. I want to be part of what makes him do that. Not destroy it. Therapy tomorrow. Talk about boundaries. About earning trust. One day, maybe tell him everything.

Caleb set the pen down, staring out the window at the darkening campus. Lights twinkled in dorms across the way, lives moving forward.

His phone lit with a text from his mom again: Thinking of you. Call soon?

He replied: Soon. Love you.

Small steps. Family. Self. Ethan.

The glimpse today wasn't enough.

But it was something.

Hope, fragile and persistent.

He'd nurture it carefully.

No more running.