bbholic
The late-autumn wind rolled off Mount Hope Bay, tugging at the edge of Bob’s jacket as he stood outside the library. The quad was almost empty — most students had already headed in, chasing the warmth and the hum of fluorescent lights. But he stayed, waiting.
Mike was always the last one out of lab, and sure enough, Bob spotted him at the top of the hill — backpack slung over one shoulder, that easy grin already visible in the glow of the streetlights.
“You waited,” Mike said, half-surprised, half-teasing.
Bob shrugged, though his breath fogged in the cold. “You said you’d bring coffee. I’m not turning that down.”
Mike laughed and handed over a steaming cup. “I didn’t think you’d actually take me up on that.”
“I didn’t think you’d actually remember.”
For a moment, neither of them said anything. The campus was quiet except for the faint lap of water against the docks and the distant hum of the highway. Then Mike nudged him gently.
“Next time,” he said, “you can wait inside. I’ll still find you.”
Bob looked at him — really looked — and the chill didn’t matter so much anymore. “Maybe I like it out here,” he said softly. “Less noise.”
Mike smiled, that slow kind that always reached his eyes. “Yeah,” he said. “Me too.”
They started walking back toward the library entrance, the sound of their steps in sync on the brick path. Inside, the warmth hit them, fogging Bob’s glasses for a second. Mike held the door a little longer than necessary, and when Bob brushed past, his shoulder grazed Mike’s arm — a small thing, but enough to make both of them pause.
They found an empty table by the big windows overlooking the bay. The lights from Bristol shimmered across the water, and the quiet hum of late-night study sessions filled the space.
“You ever think about what comes after all this?” Mike asked suddenly, eyes still on the window.
“Graduation?” Bob asked. “Or life in general?”
Mike chuckled. “Both, I guess.”
Bob thought for a second, fingers tracing the rim of his cup. “I don’t know. I just hope I end up around people who make everything feel… lighter.”
Mike turned, studying him for a long moment. “You already are,” he said quietly.
Bob met his gaze then, and the silence between them felt like something new — not empty, not awkward, but full of things neither had said yet. The coffee had gone cold by the time one of them finally looked away.
Outside, the wind pushed against the windows, and the bay lights flickered. But inside, between shared glances and quiet smiles, the night felt warm.
