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Tyson

The air in my apartment hangs heavy, burdened by the weight of my encounter with Samuel. Twice, that is.

Somehow, it seems to seep into every corner, suffocating me. Perhaps that's why I was sleepless all night long, tossing and turning, unable to find solace. And now, as the clock on my night table taunts me with its relentless ticking, I realize it's already 10:24 AM, and I still remain unshowered. Even this morning, I find myself unable to muster the motivation to go for a jog. The mere thought of encountering Samuel yesterday replays like a broken record, sapping away any remnants of energy.

Every time I think of Samuel, a storm of emotions swirls within me. It's not a matter of hating him; it's the intense self-disgust that engulfs me. Merely witnessing him walking, talking, and simply existing in front of me... He stands as the grandest trophy in my personal hall of shame, a constant reminder of the consequences of my past actions that I deliberately overlook each day. Despite my attempts to become a better person, I cannot miss one grave, important detail: I have failed to address the pain I inflicted upon him.

Overwhelmed by this newfound awareness, I begin to question the authenticity of my personal growth as the weight of my past actions presses heavily on my conscience, forcing me to confront the painful truth that I inflicted harm upon someone who once held a significant place in my life. Throughout the years, I have tried to push him out of my mind and move forward, using him as a distant reminder of the person I strive not to become.

But now that I know he is attending the same college as me? Now that I know there's a possibility of encountering him and experiencing the same awkwardness again and again?

The demons I thought I had conquered now manifest themselves in the tangible world.

Perhaps, I have simply been lying to myself all these years.

My train of thought is abruptly interrupted by the ringing on my phone. Glancing at the caller ID, I see that it's Foster. As soon as I answer the call, Foster's concerned voice immediately reaches through. "Hey, Ty."

"Hey, Foz," I respond, my tone betraying a hint of exhaustion.

"Look, um... You missed your morning jog. Again."

I let out a heavy sigh. "Yeah, I did."

Foster's voice carries a hint of uncertainty as he ventures further, "Is...everything really okay with you?"

Frustration grips me, and I find myself violently facepalming. "Yeah, yeah, I'll try to move on from that."

Foster's thoughtful hum resonates through the phone. "Sure thing, bud. Just know I'm here for you if you ever wanna talk about it, 'kay?"

"Thanks, Foz. Appreciate it," I reply, gratitude lacing my voice. The silence between us hangs in the air, an uncomfortable weight that I've grown weary of since yesterday. Determined to break it, I stand up from the bed, absentmindedly scratching my itchy scalp. "Is there anything else?"

"Nah, not really. Just wanted to let you know that class starts in thirty minutes. Got a bit worried since you're usually the one who wakes me up."

I let out a chuckle. "Right, right, I'll get going then. I think I'm skipping shower, though."

Foster snickers on the other end of the line. "Not everyone appreciates your 'musky' and 'masculine' vibes, Ty."

"Fuck you, Foz," I playfully retort, a smirk forming on my face as I make my way toward the closet.

"Yeah, whatever. Anyway, just checking in on my big guy here. So, see you later?"

"Yeah, yeah, see you later." I hang up the call and toss the phone onto the bed. After applying some deodorant, I grab a loose-fitting plain black t-shirt and a pair of navy jeans. A spritz of perfume adds a touch of fragrance before I slip on a pair of ankle socks and white sneakers. Slipping my bag over my shoulder, I grab the car keys from the trinket bowl and exit the apartment, ensuring the door is locked behind me. Making my way to the parking lot, I settle into the car, cue up some upbeat music from my playlist, and drive off toward the campus.

*****

"You gotta be fucking kidding me," Foster grumbles, his complaint blending into the cacophony of disgruntled voices in the classroom, all frustrated at the same thing: Mrs. Hounsell rescheduling the class on the class group chat during class hours. "I can't believe I really wasted my time getting all cleaned up for nothing! I mean, this is her first day, for God's sake!" Foster pouts as he dramatically plants his muzzle on his binder notebook, laid out on the table. "I think I'm gonna grab some breakfast after this. I'm suddenly starving," he adds, his voice drowned out by the book pressed against his face.

"You should try skipping shower next time," I tease, playfully accepting the unexpected turn of events as I pack my belongings back into my bag.

Foster dramatically straightens up from his slouched position and gives me a petulant glare. "I will never smell like you!"

I can't help but smirk. "Just saying!" Once I zip up my bag, I stand up from my chair and give Foster a quick, gentle shoulder massage followed by a pat. "C'mon, let's get outta here."

"Fineeeee." Foster grudgingly stashes his belongings in his bag, mirroring my actions. We join the stream of other students as we make our way out of the classroom. The symphony of grumbles and expletives quickly fades into a lively atmosphere of amiable banters and casual exchanges.

"You feel like trying out that new pancake joint on Maplewood Lane?" I ask Foster, syncing my stride with his as I gaze at him. Foster's face instantly lights up with excitement, responding eagerly with vigorous nods. "Fluffpack, right?"

"Yup!" I confirm. We then exit Whitaker's Hall of Justice, the law building.

"You want me to give Matty a heads-up about our plans?"

I shake my head. "Nah, I think he's still catching some Z's."

Foster promptly pulls out his phone to verify my assumption, sending a quick message to Matty: "Matty, are you awake??" It doesn't take long for Matty to reply that he's been up for two hours. He then tucks back his phone and lets out a brief, knowing hum. "I guess he wasn't bullshitting when he said he's an early bird."

I let out a chuckle. "I guess being his mentor won't be as tiring as I thought."

"Except for his loud voice. Man, I can already imagine the headaches you'll have," Foster laments, and I can't help but laugh at his observation. "What? I'm not wrong, though. You picked Matty as your protégé because he never stops talking, right?"

I ponder for a while as we near my car. "Well... yeah. The other kids are awfully too quiet and reserved, man. Matty helps lighten the load. Sometimes it gets tiring being constantly ignored in the group chat, so he kinda helps get the conversation going."

Foster playfully shakes his head and tuts in disapproval. "You're such a lazy mentor. Making others do the dirty work for you?"

"Hey, don't blame me! I got roped into being a mentor for JURICOM!" I quickly defend myself as Foster takes the shotgun seat once we reach the car. Pressing the button on the key fob, the sleek black Range Rover in front of us unlocks with a satisfying click.

"You suck!" Foster playfully taunts. But as he takes in the sight of the Range Rover before him, his teasing tone shifts to mild complaint. "Sometimes I wish my parents bought me a Range Rover. All I have is a CR-V," Foster pouts.

I roll my eyes and let out an exasperated groan. "Get in the car, Foz," I say as I slide into the driver's seat, leaving Foster standing there to admire the metal stallion before reluctantly climbing into the shotgun seat. "Buckle up, buckaroo," I command, fastening my own seatbelt.

"Yes, mommm." Foster mimics my action and buckles up. I turn the key in the ignition, and the engine purrs to life, accompanied by the sudden blaring of the radio. I instinctively lower the volume before finally pulling out of the parking lot, heading towards Fluffpack.

After a fifteen-minute drive, we reach Fluffpack. During the car ride, Foster manages to inform Matty about our plans, but it turns out Matty has a class in twenty minutes. Foster also relays to Matty that we may spend about an hour at Fluffpack since our next class is scheduled in one and a half hours. Matty simply responds with a text that says, "noted," and their conversation comes to an end.

As we wait for our orders, six minutes after placing them, Foster, who has been occupied with his phone, receives a notification. He looks at the sender and throws me a concerned look. "What?" I ask lazily, resting my cheek on my arm on the table, my gaze fixed on him.

"I think your protégé is considering skipping class on his fourth day," Foster says, his concerned gaze unwavering, his face exhibiting growing stoicism.

I scoff amusingly. "Not my problem." I proceed to bury my face in my sleeves.

Foster gives me one last knowing look before taking matters into his own paws. However, Matty proves to be one persistent bastard. Despite Foster's passionate and winding array of advice, Matty suddenly appears from behind my back fifteen minutes later, just as Foster indulges in his fluffy lemon poppy pancakes and I enjoy my sunrise breakfast platter.

"You gotta be shitting me!" Foster curses under his breath, his gaze following mine towards the entrance where a cheeky Matty approaches our booth. "Hey, guys! Also, I heard that," Matty says casually as he sits beside me. "Good morning, senior."

I sigh in defeat. "Morning, Matt."

However, Foster is not having it. "Did you really just ignore my well-intentioned efforts to keep you from getting kicked out of HU by planning to skip class on your fourth day?!"

Hesitating, Matty drums his claws on the table, contemplating how to justify his actions. It seems like he's about to lie, but then he lets out a resigned sigh, and his response takes on a pleading tone. "You know what? Please, just hear me out."

Foster raises an eyebrow while I continue to eat my platter in peace. "You better have a good reason, then."

Matty clears his throat and gazes out of the window. "Okay! So! Disclaimer: I was actually on my way to campus. But, anyway. This morning, my roommate and I kinda had a little... drama. It put me in a bad mood, and I kinda need some time to calm down. But! But! It's not anyone's fault, though! He's just been going through a rough time these couple of days. I guess I was too intrusive when I tried being his compadre. But... you know..." Matty grumbles in frustration as he slumps back into the couch, "I just feel compelled to be there for him! Like, not just because he's my roommate! So far, he's one of the better people I've met in here. He's genuinely chill and sincere! I mean, just imagine being awkward with your roommate for a year! I-I don't wanna have that kind of experience."

I can relate to the struggles of having issues with a roommate, even if it was only for a month and not a year-long ordeal. The tense silences and accidental glances during all those times still make me cringe to this day. I find myself commenting on Matty's remark. "I'm sure you guys are gonna be fine."

Foster, his irk still lingering, delves deeper into the topic. "So, did your roommate tell you what's going on with him, though?"

Matty purses his lips, contemplating his response. "Well, he only mentioned that he ran into someone from his past. But, like, it's three days ago. Seems like it's affecting him somehow. But honestly? I'm just assuming."

The exchange between Matty and Foster prompts a knowing glance between me and Foster, and I can feel my stomach churning. Maintaining our silent communication, Foster casually continues the conversation. "Oh? Can you, maybe, tell me more about your roommate?"

Matty's curiosity piqued, he asks, "Why do you wanna know?"

Breaking our shared gaze, Foster dons a scolding expression as he fixes his stern eyes on a perplexed Matty. "Oh, nothing really. I was just thinking maybe I could help you resolve this situation sooner, so you won't end up skipping class again for the same reason later." However, behind Foster's disapproving facade, I discern that he is simply playing a role, utilizing his journalistic skills to unearth more information about Matty's roommate.

"Oh, well," Matty shifts himself into a more comfortable position, settling in to share more details. "He's... reserved, speaks just the right amount-not like me, I tend to babble." Matty chuckles, glancing between me and Foster, who appears deeply engrossed in the conversation. Clearing his throat, Matty continues. "Right. Anyway. He's also... hmm... I'd say he's more sensitive than most people. And now that I think about it, it was kinda my fault for making him upset. I mean, he was tired and just couldn't sleep, but I just kept on pushing. But I swear, I didn't mean to annoy him or ask him simply because I was curious! It's just, it kinda makes me feel sad seeing him sad like that. He just seemed so cheery until... Well, you know??" Matty looks at us expectantly, and we nod in agreement.

After letting out an exhausted sigh, he continues. "You know what I mean, right? Ever felt like you're stuck in a situation where you don't know what to do? You're afraid that the more you try to help, the more you'll only make things worse?"

Still enjoying our breakfast, Foster interjects, still subtly trying to uncover the identity of Matty's roommate. "Heh. I know what you mean. Reminds me of a cat I once knew."

Matty raises an eyebrow at Foster's comment. "Wait, is it a cat thing?"

Foster nonchalantly shrugs, taking a sip of his pecan latte. "Could be. I mean, I don't want to jump to conclusions, but your roommate does seem to exhibit some cat-like qualities."

Matty's eyes light up, and he taps the table excitedly before snapping his fingers in realization. "He is a cat!"

At that moment, Foster and I exchange a meaningful glance. The knot in my stomach intensifies much, much worse.

"Is his name Samuel?" I suddenly interrupt, my appetite vanishing as the name escapes my lips. Foster, who was poised to continue his subtle line of questioning, cringes and slumps down on the couch like a deflating balloon, clearly disappointed by my blunt approach.

Matty turns his gaze towards me cautiously, suspicion creeping into his voice. "Yes... But, how did-"

Before Matty can finish his question, Foster springs back to life, eager to shift the conversation's focus. Trying to divert attention from my slip-up, he blurts out something he immediately regrets. "You know what, Matty? I think you should order something. On me."

Distracted by Foster's sudden generosity, the conversation seems to lose its significance as Matty's excitement takes over. "Tell me you're not joking."

Foster shakes his head quickly to reassure him. "No, no! Just... do it before I change my mind, yeah?" I realize that I now owe Foster a debt, knowing how much of a penny-pincher he usually is. Matty punches the air in victory and heads toward the cashier to place his order. Foster gives me a final stern glare with squinted eyes, silently mouthing the words, "You owe me," before joining Matty.

In the background, I hear Matty proclaiming how karma is real. I continue to eat my breakfast, though my appetite wanes with each passing moment. Matty goes on to share that he treated Samuel at a cafe a couple days ago and believes that today's events may result from his good karma finally coming back to him. I internally wish that his good karma isn't directly tied to the painful realization that my protégé is actually the roommate of my childhood friend.

*****

"If I find you skipping class again, I'll kill you myself," Foster scolds.

"I'd love to see you try," Matty challenges, flashing a mischievous smirk.

Foster rolls his eyes in annoyance, but I can't help but chuckle at their banter. Matty then opens the car door and steps out into the lot. "Thanks for the ride, guys." Matty closes the door and bids us farewell through the tinted window. He proceeds to take his leave.

Finally having a moment to release my pent-up emotions, I let out a long, guttural sigh, earning a sympathetic glance from Foster. "You okay, mate?"

I slump forward, my hands loosening their grip on the steering wheel. "Why am I getting all worked up on this shit?"

Foster reaches over and pats my back, offering some comfort. "Once again, I'm here if you ever wanna talk about it, whatever happened between the two of you."

I lift my head and offer Foster a grateful yet rueful smile. "Thanks, Foz."

Foster nods in understanding and gestures for us to get out of the car. "Come on, we have class to attend."

I groan in response. "Man, I'm still afraid of Constitutional Law."

Foster chuckles. "Come on, big guy, we've survived Civil Procedure. I'm sure we can survive this one."

Exiting the car, we stride side by side toward the faculty building, engaged in a lively conversation en route. Our voices mingle with the chatter of fellow students as we finally enter the lecture hall. Professor Jenkins sits at his desk, engrossed in laptop activities. Foster positions himself on the upper tier of the ascending seat, while I settle closer to the professor. A few moments pass with hushed whispers permeating the classroom until the professor's sudden, booming greeting shatters any ongoing conversation.

"Good morning, everyone, and welcome to my class! Again! As you all know, I'm still Professor Jenkins, and I had the pleasure of guiding you through Constitutional Law last semester. But let's cut to the chase because I'm well aware that you're all itching to wrap up this course and spare yourselves from hearing me drone on about Constitutional Law again." Amusement explodes as laughter cascades through the room, including my own.

"Alright, guys! Before we embark on this journey through the maze of constitutional law, let us pause for a moment of reflection. Yes, I'm referring to the triumphs and trials of last semester's Constitutional Law I. As you may recall, Constitutional Law I provided us with a solid understanding of the fundamental principles that shape our legal system. We've examined the structure and significance of the Constitution, dissected landmark cases, and engaged in thought-provoking discussions that challenged our perspectives. Oh, the memories. But don't worry, people. I'm not going to burden you with the memories any longer." The classroom erupts in groans as Professor Jenkins paces around. He proceeds with his lecture.

"Now that we are going to venture further beyond the surface, Constitutional Law II presents us with an opportunity to explore the dynamic interplay between the branches of government, delve into the protection of individual rights, and grapple with the complex issues that arise in the realms of federalism and constitutional interpretation. We will scrutinize the delicate balance of power, examine the Supreme Court's role as the final arbiter of constitutional questions, and assess the ever-evolving landscape of constitutional doctrine." In one fluid motion, he clicks a button, and a surge of energy permeates the air as the pristine syllabus takes shape on the screen behind him, capturing the attention of both apprehensive and eager eyes in the audience. Mine is among the apprehensive ones.

"In the first part of this module, we're going to explore the complex realm of individual rights and civil liberties. We will examine the fundamental freedoms enshrined in the Bill of Rights, analyzing landmark Supreme Court cases that have shaped our understanding of the First Amendment's protection of speech, religion, press, assembly, and petition. We will also scrutinize the delicate balance between protecting these rights and legitimate societal interests that sometimes come into conflict."

As Professor Jenkins advances to the following slide, I feel myself zoning out.

"As we progress, we will immerse ourselves in the intricate web of constitutional law, focusing on the dynamic interplay between the executive, legislative, and judicial branches of..."

In the midst of the professor's explanation, I inadvertently find myself navigating through a folder named "Memories" on my laptop. As I browse through the contents one by one, I stumble upon a buried treasure: long-forgotten high school photographs of Samuel and me resurface on my screen, and I am immediately caught in a surge of nostalgia.

And guilt.

Should I tell Foz? Should I keep it away from him? Why was I such an asshole to him?!

"...and that brings us to the landmark case of Miranda v. Arizona. As we've all learned, this case fundamentally altered the landscape of criminal procedure and established the well-known Miranda rights that we are all familiar with today. The Court held that individuals must be informed of their right to remain silent and their right to an attorney during custodial interrogations. This ruling was a pivotal..."

How much have I hurt him? God, I want this self-loathing to stop now!

Glancing at the time displayed on my laptop, I notice class will end in about thirty minutes. Then, a sudden curiosity sparks at that moment: I wonder how Samuel is doing today.

"...down laws that they deem unconstitutional. I also wonder about the potential for judicial overreach and the balance of power between the branches of government. Could you, perhaps, shed some light on this?" A student from the audience asks.

Professor Jenkins smiles with pride. "That is actually a good point, Brenda. To answer your question, let's acknowledge that the power of judicial review is indeed a critical aspect of our constitutional framework. It empowers the judiciary, particularly the Supreme Court, to examine the constitutionality of laws and acts as..."

God, I can't be like this forever!

Class finally ends.

Walking absentmindedly towards my car, Foster casually texts his friend beside me, seemingly at ease. However, Foster's perceptive nature detects my distant gaze and the absence of expression on my face. He breaks the silence, his voice laced with concern. "Is it just me, or is there something's bugging your mind?"

His question jolts me out of my reverie, prompting me to gather my thoughts. "I think I'm gonna pay a visit to Matty's dorm tomorrow."[]