Chapter Text
It was the view from the window that made him optimistic.
Not the floor, finally free of boxes. Not the stack of textbooks perched on the corner of his desk. Not even the sight of Vanessa’s comforter on the bed across the room, a deep blue reminiscent of a desert sky. No, it was the view that made Ethan Chandler entertain the hope that this year, whatever it might bring, would be far superior to the last.
“Afternoon, Ethan.” Vanessa backed into the double, cradling a box carefully to her chest. She smiled as she took in the neatness of the room, enveloping herself in the lightness the huge windows allowed. “This looks far less grim than our housing last year! Caves, really. Barely enough space to move around in.” She set the box in the center of her desk and started unloading. “Properly excited for the first day?”
Ethan tore his eyes away from her hands’ quick maneuvers (much more graceful than his, he thought) and met her gaze.
“The arrival of the freshmen!” He picked up a pen she’d dropped and set it on the corner of her desk. “Swarming over our turf like ants. Crowding our only dining hall.” He scoffed. “Asking too many questions.”
“Oh, you don’t really mean that. A little enthusiasm can do a world of good. You ought to try it.” She teased him, but her eyes held only warmth, if not a touch of concern. Sophomore year hadn’t been kind to either of them, and recovery… Well, it took longer than a few summer months.
It haunted her in snippets: the dark circles under Mina’s eyes. The self-imposed isolation. They’d planned on graduating together since childhood; she knew it was better for Mina to take a year off, but the campus felt like a moon perpetually waning without her, only a shell of what it could be. She couldn’t count the times she’d said goodnight to an empty bed.
And she’d seen Ethan restless, too. Reaching for a door only to have it slammed open, the anger in his eyes replaced by shock when he realized he’d almost hurt her. He’d pushed his phone into his pocket and nodded at her in greeting before hurrying into the stairwell. She swallowed at the memory. She’d been startled, yes, but but it was his determination that sent her heart into flight. She couldn’t forget the grimness of his face, his usually pleasant smile flattened into an iron line.
“Take a look at this view, would you?” She shook the memories away and moved closer to him, all too aware of how illuminated he looked in the sunlight, how blessed. The view was common in her opinion, just a stretch of grass framed with a few attractive trees. Nothing to revere as Ethan did now, his hands curled around the windowsill, his shoulders hunched forward.
“I can’t see a single place on this campus I’ve been hurt,” he breathed, and it clicked for her. “Not a room I’ve lost myself in.” He smiled to himself. “That space out there is mine.”
Ethan could feel Vanessa’s gaze tracing the side of his face. Her compassion, her pride in him—clear as day, and all the more poignant because of how much he’d missed her. He thought he should do something—wrap an arm around her shoulder, or take her hand—but he couldn’t. Still, the contentment of feeling her presence so close to him made him think such things weren’t impossible for long.
Not with a view as promising as this.