One of a Kind G/T

Fragile Things

Tomorrow was Friday.

The thought sat like a stone in Lorian's stomach, growing heavier with each passing hour. He couldn't focus. Not really. Not with Ava seated three rows ahead, her usual spot, centre-left, second from the window. Her shoulders were hunched in concentration, one sleeve pushed up, the other still trailing delicately over her wrist. She was writing something... notes, probably.

Her handwriting small and neat, full of tight curls and quick lines. He couldn't stop watching the curve of her neck, the bounce of her hair when she nodded, the smudge of graphite at the heel of her palm.

She had smiled at him when she came in.

Not just a polite one. A real smile. Quick. Easy. Like it belonged there.
Lorian's heart hadn't stopped stumbling since.

He stared now, chin propped in his hand, face warm and unreasonably red. Every time she tilted her head, his eyes followed the movement. Every time her pen paused, so did his breath. He should've been copying the chart on the projection wall, something about early classification hierarchies, but his notes page remained mostly blank, save for the words Friday. Ava. Be normal scribbled in the corner like a desperate memo to future-him.

He didn't notice the door open at first.

But then someone sobbed.

The sound cut straight through the low murmur of the lecture hall, and every head turned, Ava's included. A girl stood in the threshold, face blotchy and pale, her eyes rimmed red. Lorian recognized her vaguely. Name starting with M? Maybe Marina? She was in the afternoon lab section. Usually quiet. Today she looked ruined.

She tried to speak. Failed. Her mouth worked silently, shoulders quaking, one hand clutching the front of her shirt like she needed it to hold her together.

The professor, an older Vareshian with a voice like wet gravel, stepped from behind the lectern, expression unreadable.

"Miss Salen," he said, low and firm. "Please sit."

"But I~" she croaked.

He held up a hand. "Later."

She sank into a seat at the far edge of the room, curling into herself, eyes wet. No one sat beside her.

The professor turned back to the class and adjusted his spectacles. "Let this serve as your reminder," he said. "Humans are fragile. Their nervous systems~ primitive. Their bones~ delicate. They must be handled with care."

A hush blanketed the room.

"Do not startle them. Do not drop them. Do not feed them untested supplements. And if your specimen shows signs of respiratory strain, lethargy, or temperature loss, report it immediately."

Lorian's spine prickled.

Marina, or whatever her name was. covered her mouth with her hand. Not one person moved toward her. Just left her to grieve in a cold plastic chair like she'd committed some unspeakable crime. Maybe she had. Or maybe she hadn't known better. Maybe no one ever told her how fragile they really were.

"They are not toys," the professor finished. "And they are not indestructible."

Ava's jaw was tight. Her pen rested perfectly still between her fingers. He wondered if she was picturing her own human too. Wondered if she was afraid, just like him.

Lorian sat motionless for the remainder of the class.

What if I missed something too? What if he'd been too quiet yesterday.. not calm, but shutting down? What if the taps weren't trust, but the last thing he could think to do? Lorian hadn't checked the water dish last night. Gods, had he? He couldn't remember now. Just remembered brushing crumbs off the desk, tapping twice, pretending everything was normal.

When the bell finally rang, chairs scraped, bags zipped, and the room filled with murmurs. Not sympathy, speculation. Disgust. Curiosity.

"Bet she didn't feed it."

"Someone said she left it in the sun, near the window, no shade."

"No, it was cold. She bathed it or something then tried drying it with a fan. Idiot."

"Heard she made it eat protein bars. Just mashed them up."

"Oh well," someone muttered. "They've got backups anyways." Lorian's jaw clenched. Backups. Like they weren't even people. Like that girl hadn't lost something real.

Ava didn't join in the whispers. She packed her bag with slow, deliberate movements, her brow furrowed like she was trying to hold something in. She hadn't looked at Lorian once since the announcement. Maybe she couldn't.

Lorian ducked his head, face burning.

Dean appeared at his elbow like clockwork, swinging his satchel onto one shoulder. "You hear?" he whispered. "About Salen?"

"Obviously," Lorian muttered.

Dean didn't seem to notice his tone. "Totally cracked. Like, ugly crying, real meltdown. Word is she forgot to hydrate her human. Two days. Thing seized. Gone."

He pictured the boy in his cage again. The way his chest moved. The way his fingers curled when startled. What if one morning that movement just... stopped? What would that silence sound like?

Lorian winced. "Shut up."

Dean blinked. "What?"

"You don't know what happened," Lorian said, voice low. "So stop."

That earned a rare silence from Dean. He shrugged, adjusted his collar. "Sorry. Just.. everyone's talking."

"I know." Lorian gripped the strap of his bag tighter. "That's the problem."

They exited into the afternoon light, campus humming with too many voices. Trees rustled overhead. The air tasted like spring and unease.

Lorian barely heard Dean after that. His mind was back in his room, on the boy. Small, silent, watching. The idea of him seizing, collapsing, because of something he forgot~

His stomach flipped.

Ava was ahead of them on the path. Her hair caught the breeze. She didn't look back. Didn't have to. She moved like someone who didn't stumble. Who didn't forget things. Who wouldn't let a living creature die on her desk.
He wished he felt more like her. He wished the boy was safe because of him, not just lucky.

Lorian stared, guilt tangling with nerves in his chest.

Tomorrow. He wasn't ready. But he'd try. He'd run every checklist. Watch every breath. No more forgetting.
Not like Salen.
Not like that.
The thought throbbed behind his eyes, like a headache that hadn't arrived yet.