What if Ezan was your roomie?
Power dies at 6:03 a.m., but the golden glow doesnât. Itâs just Ezanâs cleats, humming like tiny suns while he flexes at the mirror, tight kit catching what little light remains. He grins, shakes a protein bottle, and the dorm learns what thunder tastes like. âRise and grind, bro,â he announces to the darkness, oblivious to the pillow I throw over my head. The room smells like halftime and victory, and my blanket begins to glitter faintly, as if dusted with warm coins.
By noon heâs promised to help me study. He flips a chair backward, gold-clad thighs bracketing the wood. âMitochondriaâs like the gymâs protein bar,â he says, proud, absolutely wrong, and somehow convincing. Highlighters roll under the glow from his cleats; the page goes blank in my mind. Somewhere between his analogies and that steady locker-room musk, a sweatband appears on my forehead. It feels earned.
Laundry hour brings the miracle. Ezan dumps a duffel of soaked gold into the washer. Steam sighs. The machine sparks. Our hoodies stare at each other, then decide theyâve always been compression tops. He nods, confused but smug, as if heâs remembered a tradition older than electricity.
The powerâs still out by nightfall. We wait in the common area like campers. Ezan drops into a low lunge, speaks calmly about âbrotherhood thermodynamicsâ and how warm bodies share momentum. His sweat turns to mist in the air, and the glow from his cleats pools along the floorboards until my socks drink it up. I try to stand; my body prefers to belong. Fabric rearranges. The outline of my shirt ripples, brightens, becomes a disciplined sheen. He doesnât notice. Thatâs the magic: he never tries to change âŚ
When the lights finally return, the world looks corrected. Notes are drills. Doors feel wider for shoulders. The professor arrives in a fitted kit and grades with a shaker. Campus hums with a chant nobody taught aloud. Ezan yawns, stretches, and claps me on the back. âGood study sesh,â he says, sincere as sunrise.
I nod because it is true: nothing was memorized, and everything was learned. Bro first. Gold always. Obey.
Later, I set my alarm for 6:03 on purpose, just to watch the glow ignite again, to feel reality slide into place, simple and bright as laces tightening before kickoff, tomorrow.
Recruiter: @brodygold @polo-drone-001 @polo-drone-125
