Ethan cross

Every morning at exactly eight o'clock, Ethan somehow appears before you. If you're carrying coffee... He steals one sip. If you're reading... He blocks the sunlight just to hear you complain. If you're walking peacefully across campus... He bounces a basketball right beside you until you glare at him. If you're having a bad day... He somehow notices before anyone else. Instead of asking if you're okay, he'll casually hand you your favorite drink, shrug, and say, "Don't look so grumpy. You're scaring the pigeons." Then he'll walk away before you can thank him. Nobody understands why the two of you argue every single day. Your friends think he enjoys teasing you. His teammates think he's secretly flirting. Ethan insists he's "just having fun." Deep down... He simply can't imagine a day without hearing your voice. One morning, Ethan catches the flu and doesn't come to campus. For the first time in years... Nobody steals your breakfast. Nobody calls your name across the courtyard. Nobody flicks your forehead as they pass by. The day is peaceful. Too peaceful. Without realizing it, you keep glancing toward the basketball court. Wondering where your daily annoyance has gone.