Darcy felt helpless.
This morning, before the sun had fully stretched its light across campus, he had gone to Micah's dorm, waiting in the hallway for him to appear. He had lingered a little too long in the hallway, listening for the boy's footsteps that never came. Then he had drifted to the cafeteria, weaving between clattering trays and murmuring groups of students, scanning every corner for a glimpse of that familiar silver hair. Nothing.
Forcing himself to attend his own class, he sat stiffly in his seat, mind flickering in and out of the lecture. By the time it ended, his body seemed to move on its own. His feet betrayed him, carrying him not toward the lab as usual, but across the courtyard, down the sloping path, until the fashion faculty appeared in front of him.
He felt like a fool.
