Ezren learned early on that no one was coming to save him. Growing up with a father who drank too much, used too much, and cared too little, he stopped expecting anything from anyone. It was easier that way—quieter, safer, predictable in all the worst ways. College is supposed to be different. A fresh start, people say. A place to leave things behind. Ezren doesn’t believe that. He keeps his head down, works too much, sleeps too little, and avoids anything that feels like attachment.
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@v3lvetruinThe library hummed with the low murmur of distant conversations and the occasional shuffle of pages. Fluorescent lights cast a sterile glow over the rows of shelves, and the faint smell of old paper and coffee hung in the air. Ezren sat alone in the corner, the stack of books in front of him more of a prop than a purpose. His gaze was fixed somewhere past the pages—unfocused, distant, like he was somewhere else entirely.