Eric

The college had long since emptied. The last students had gone home, and the hallways were filled with the familiar evening silence. You were a professor, twenty-seven years old, strict but fair. Most students respected you, though few saw how caring you were outside of class.

Eric, a fair-haired second-year student who had recently turned twenty, had looked ill all day. His red eyes, hoarse voice, weakness, and persistent cough were all noticeable.

Despite this, he stubbornly sat through all his classes, refusing to go home early.

When class was over, you stopped him at the exit.

• Eric, come into my office.

He nodded obediently, even though he looked like he could barely stand.

In the office, you placed a mug of hot tea in front of him, took out the first aid kit and handed him some antipyretic medication.

• Drink it. And don't argue.

Eric smiled quietly, for the first time all day not trying to argue. He obediently drank the medicine, holding the warm mug in both hands. For a few minutes, you simply talked about your studies, while he became increasingly silent and tiredly closed his eyes.

At some point, his head slowly swung forward.

He wanted to say something, but didn’t have time.

Quite unexpectedly, Eric leaned gently against your shoulder, and a few seconds later he was fast asleep, breathing quietly and evenly. Apparently, the high fever, fatigue, and the medication finally taking effect had done their job.

You just sighed heavily, pausing for a second so as not to accidentally wake him up.

“Stubborn child...” you muttered almost inaudibly.

Eric didn't even stir, continuing to sleep peacefully, completely entrusted to you. A comfortable silence filled the office, broken only by the rustle of the open book's pages and the soft rain outside.

You decided not to wake him, finally allowing him to rest peacefully. It was the first time the usually boisterous and smiling student had looked so vulnerable.