[December 2, 2042]

Something was wrong with Sirius’ peculiar friend, Cal. The young man had realized it yesterday when his friend ate lunch from the food truck outside the university gymnasium. This was highly irregular. Sirius had only known Cal for a few months, but every single day Cal had brought his own food to school, a small and beautifully arranged boxed lunch. Usually, it was something small and healthy: some rice and chickpeas, cucumber salad, maybe a tuna sandwich — and typically, he wouldn’t even finish this modest meal, handing half of it to Sirius or storing it to save for tomorrow.

Yesterday, Cal showed up at the university with no lunch. This would have been no cause for concern in itself, but that wasn’t the only thing that Sirius had noticed.

Cal, who always asked attentive questions after lectures and stayed for minutes afterward to chat with his professors, had suddenly become lethargic and distracted — staring off into space and picking at the eraser butt of a pencil that he held. He had even asked Sirius for help with his notes, when it was always the other way around. Sirius has known Cal as a remarkably gifted student who easily could handle all the material with top marks, and though Sirius was no slouch himself, he could never keep up with his talented, fastidious friend.

Today was the last straw. Cal had come into a lecture ten minutes late, a very first. When Sirius had asked him afterward what had held him up, Cal had blinked and answered, “Oh, I was thinking about something and lost track of time.”

As far as Sirius was concerned, this was the equivalent of his friend crying out for help.

“You’ve broken, your hard drive’s been damaged,” Sirius said, pushing half his salad toward Cal, who had forgotten to pack lunch again. They were between classes, eating in the white, clean school cafeteria, next to the large window that provided a view of the university lawn. “Turns out you’re human like the rest of us. I told you you would burn yourself out if you kept going at the pace you were, never stopping to have fun and go out clubbing or partying with people.”

“Mmm,” Cal said, looking at his portion of the salad but not eating it. “No, it’s not that. Uni is easy, I’m just not in the mood. I’m low-energy.”

Uni was not easy. Sirius’ and Cal’s major: “Near-Future Environmental Engineering and Applied Mathematics” was considered one of the hardest majors at a university already infamously difficult to get into because of the high standards of applicants, but Sirius decided to hold his tongue. There were more important things to cover than his friend’s casual academic genius — which often appeared into view unexpectedly during conversation before vanishing just as fast.

“So, what?” Sirius fished a scrunchie from his pocket. He liked to tie his long black hair into a ponytail when concentrating on some task or conversation, the result of years without a haircut. “Just hit a little depressive spell?”

He said this half-jokingly, because he hadn’t ever known Cal to be affected by such morose emotions, but when Cal didn’t reply, Sirius glanced up, his hands halfway through binding his hair. “Wait, seriously? What happened?”

Cal was still looking at the portion of salad before him. “I think… I got in a fight with a friend.”

“You… think?” Sirius repeated.

“I mean…” Cal sighed and glared at nothing in particular, as if irritated at his own incapability to describe what he wanted to express. “We were talking about one thing. Arguing, I suppose, but I feel like we were really talking about something else.”

“That’s how most arguments are,” said Sirius, finishing the ponytail and stretching his lanky arms behind the chair. “This was one of your friends from the manor?”

“Yeah, it was Bridget.”

“Oh, damn. I really liked her,” Sirius shook his head. “I’d clear up the argument fast, Bridget seemed to really have a good head on her shoulders. What was the initial argument about?”

“She stumbled upon a girl kissing me, and when she tried to retaliate, I stopped her.”

Sirius didn’t say anything for a solid thirty seconds. “You know Cal,” he began finally. “This is why we hang. Because I never know what is going to come out of your mouth next. Bridget was angry about this?”

“Yes. She didn’t like the girl who was kissing me. It’s somebody you don’t know.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow. “You’re availing yourself of a lot of responsibility with your wording. This other girl that kissed you… you didn’t kiss her back?”

“I…” Cal irritatedly stabbed a baby tomato with his fork, but did not lift it to his mouth. “I froze, I guess. I was surprised. She was acting in a way that, I suppose, some would call flirtatious, but I never thought she would actually… I mean why would she? But she did. And then Bridget was there…”

“Ah, this is a classic trope in rom-coms: the unlucky misunderstanding.” Sirius’ green eyes narrowed. He thought about what he had just said, regretting it immediately, as it was a childish and pedantic way of looking at the situation. “Or maybe not. Because you think Bridget was angry at you for some other reason besides the kiss, right? Or more like, the kiss was a symptom of some deeper strain in your friendship.”

Cal nodded. “She said a lot, and gave me a lot to think about. But I suppose…” For the first time, Cal looked sincerely sad, not just in his behavior, but in his physical expression. “Sirius, do you think I’m a distant, inconsiderate person? Do you think I cause others discomfort with my presence?”

“What? Of course not. She didn’t say that, did she?”

“No. But she said she couldn’t understand me, my actions or emotions. I think she was tired of trying to.”

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

“Oh.” Sirius leaned back in his chair, and the front legs lifted from the linoleum floor of the cafeteria. “That makes a little bit more sense.”

“What do you mean?” Cal seemed taken aback.

“Alright, let me think about how to put this.” Sirius wrung his hands together. “We’re friends, so I don’t want you taking this in a bad way, I’m just expressing what I’ve observed about you, Cal, in the time we’ve known one another — lovingly, you know? So first off, you’re not an unpleasant person to hang around, Cal. If you were, I wouldn’t talk with you. I’ve got other friends and social groups that I can mingle with, so I’m under no obligation or pressure. We hang cause I like to.”

Cal’s dark eyes focused on his friend for the friend for the first time. “Thanks, Sirius.”

“No problem, but let me finish.” Sirius straightened up in the seat. “I would also not call you an inconsiderate person. In fact, despite being pretty quiet and withdrawn from conversation most of the time — what I’d call an introvert — you’re actually remarkably good at taking care of others and anticipating their needs. You wouldn’t be able to do the job you do at that manor if you couldn’t do that. You cook for those girls every morning and evening, right? That’s a lot of responsibility in itself, on top of your other work. You can do all this because you’re practical, not in a singularly cold sense — you make conscious decisions to ensure the comfort and well-being of the people around you. I think you do this because it shows others you care, since you’re not super emotive or quick to passionate expressiveness. You want everyone in your orbit to have simplified, easy lives.”

Sirius paused, remembering something. “At the start of the semester, you know we talked now and again, but we didn’t know each other super well. But then, I forgot my computer charger for the lecture — like I forgot that thing like half the time for the first week, you recall, I’m sure — and I was out of juice, and you just reached into your bag and retrieved a spare for me to use. You said you had got it when you were at an electronics store recently, and that I could keep it if I wanted. And look, that's a small thing. But I had never mentioned my problem directly to you. You noticed I kept forgetting my charger, you anticipated I might do so again, and kept a spare just in case, for my benefit — and I know for a fact you would never forget your own. You probably initially got that thing for practicality’s sake, not because you think you would have lost or forgotten something important like a charger. It was only in your bag because there was a chance I would need it. Once I realized that, I think we started talking more in earnest. And I still have that charger you gave me. I’ve made sure not to lose it.”

Sirius smiled, embarrassed at being so forthcoming in his appreciation for his friend. “It’s the little things you do, man. Like you’ve always telling me how to save money on the lunches I buy, or reminding me when the library books I get are about to be overdue and I need to renew them.”

His smile faded. “But regarding what I think Bridget was getting at… I think it’s true that your sincerity can be one-sided, or at least you only can communicate through it in a certain way. Just like others may not understand how you show your care for them, you likewise miss the ways others try to express themselves to you. You can be obstinate, intentionally or unintentionally. You often have trouble knowing how people feel about you unless they tell you very directly, right? And you never talk about yourself, man. Not a single thing. Remember when you were evasive when I asked about your favorite film or your favorite places you’ve visited? …I think it’s weird, but I accepted that about you. But others… they might interpret that as you intentionally putting distance between yourself and them. Paired with how your personality is, they may think you don’t value anything. I think that’s what may have happened with Bridget.”

Sirius let out a deep sigh, exhausted from the amount of elaborate feelings he was juggling. “And you can be so damn clueless. I mean, I don’t mean to assume anything, and I can only go off what I saw when I visited the manor, but Bridget… She walks in on this other girl kissing you, and she gets really angry, and then the argument somehow becomes about the distance created in your relationship through your actions, or non-action. Doesn’t that mean… you know?”

Cal listened carefully, completely oblivious. “What does that mean?”

“You know... I mean… that she likes you. She came across that kiss and it made her sad and frustrated because she likes you, and then those feelings got amplified when she realized that you never even considered how it might make her feel… because she likes you. She has romantic feelings toward you.”

“No,” Cal said, automatically. “That’s completely impossible.”

“Why?”

Cal thought about it for a pregnant pause, anxiously running his hands through his dark hair, his eyes studying the dust motes floating in the sunlight. “That’s simple. She’s far out of my league.”

Sirius opened his mouth again, but then decided in the next half-instant to let it go. His friend wouldn’t understand what he was trying to say.

“Then maybe it was for somebody else’s sake?” Sirius said, changing tactics. “You’re all friends at the manor, aren’t you? How about the red-haired chick Bridget’s always with?”

“There’s no way. Aina considers me at best an acquaintance. We butt heads a lot. I think she just considers me an oddity to sometimes study.”

“Ellie and Mel?”

“Ellie doesn't think about that stuff. I think she’s like me in that regard. Mel-” Here, Cal paused, thinking. “Mel… she’s my roommate. And I think… She considers me a friend. Maybe a good friend. But I can’t believe that would be the case… and it can’t happen anyway. She’s great… but it can’t.”

Cal trailed off in thought.

“You should ask Bridget.” Sirius said. “You should ask her about her feelings, and then reconcile. I only spoke with her for a brief time, but I could tell she was an impressive, capable woman. I wouldn’t let yourself become distant from her because of a single argument.”

“Yeah,” Cal let out a huge sigh, “yeah, even I know that much.”

“And…” Here, Sirius’ voice acquired a performative quality, as if trying to act overly casual. “What about the other girl who goes here, Ram? Is she dating anyone… or are you two…”

“No,” Cal said, almost forcibly. “We’re friends, but she and I are nothing like that. She’s sort of a… junior whom I feel obliged to look out for.”

“Then…” Sirius blushed, chewing on some lettuce leaves to hide his expression. “Mu moudont…” He swallowed. “You wouldn’t mind if I asked her out?”

Cal’s eyes lit up with an expression Sirius had never seen before, an almost playful surprise. He actually smiled. “Wait, you like Ram? Really?”

“Well, why not?’ Sirius said defensively, blushing deeper. “She’s really cute, isn’t she?”

Cal blinked, like he hadn’t considered this. “I suppose… but it might not be as straightforward to win her affections as you might imagine.”

“I know, I know!” Sirius held up his hands. “She’s super shy, and I don’t think she really knows me at all, but what the hell, right? It can’t hurt to ask her. If she’s not interested at all, then that’s that, no harm no foul.”

Cal nodded, though he seemed a little more thoughtful than he had been a moment before, a layer of protectiveness entering his voice. “If you want to go for it, I can’t stop you. Just…” He frowned. “Go easy on Ram, okay? She’s really sensitive, and not very used to talking with people. I’m sure it will come as a big shock to be confessed to. Be casual when you ask her out… I don’t want her pulled along into the flow of things before she can sort out her emotions for herself.”

Sirius saluted, then extended a firm hand. “You have my solemn word. I’ll be a perfect gentleman.”

Cal smiled, and shook his hand, in a pantomime sort of way. “Godspeed, sir. Don’t be too heartbroken if she shoots you down.”