The room hummed with the faint crackle of circuitry.
A pale morning light filtered through the dormitory blinds, illuminating the clutter that passed for a workspace. Loose wires snaked across the floor, their metallic sheen catching the light, while precarious towers of circuit boards loomed on every available surface. The air smelled faintly of burnt solder and instant noodles.
On the bed, a figure stirred, tangled in mismatched sheets.
"Ugh..."
Mateo groaned, pushing himself upright. His lab coat, which he hadn''t bothered to take off the night before, was now wrinkled and smudged with grease. He shoved a hand through his disheveled hair, blinking against the harsh buzz of the fluorescent light overhead.
The room was silent—eerily so.
He glanced at the empty bed across the room, then back to his own. The silence stung. Kale and Thalo had left days ago, heading back to their families for the holidays. Now, the hallways were empty, save for the occasional clatter of distant footsteps.
He muttered to himself.
"Guess it''s just me again."
His voice sounded hollow, even to him.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed, bare feet meeting the cool linoleum. His cargo pants, still on from the day before, were crumpled and weighed down by a collection of tools in the pockets. A screwdriver poked out, glinting like a misplaced weapon.
I wonder if they''ve figured it out by now. The others... I mean, they don''t ask, but... maybe they know.
His thoughts lingered on that familiar feeling of isolation. Sure, they were his friends, but they didn''t understand—didn''t get what it felt like to wake up and wonder if you were even on the right path anymore. To have your life defined by failure after failure.
Don''t think about it. Focus. Just get to work.
The desk across the room drew his gaze. It was the heart of the chaos:
An unfinished toaster prototype lay gutted, wires spilling out like entrails.
Beside it, a small drone hung lifeless, its propellers bent and its casing scorched.
On the shelf above, rows of failed inventions sat like silent judges—a smart socket device that had once caused a blackout, an air purifier that emitted more dust than it removed, and a half-finished bracelet labeled Focus Enhancer v2.
Yeah, failures. I''ve got plenty of those.
He shuffled to the desk, picking up the bracelet.
He muttered, turning it over in his hands.
"Still a piece of junk, huh?"
The device had a sleek design, its black band inlaid with faintly glowing circuits. It was supposed to help people concentrate by emitting subtle electromagnetic pulses. Instead, it gave most users splitting headaches.
With a sigh, he tossed it back onto the desk.
"Maybe I''m just not cut out for this..."
But that thought was fleeting—he couldn''t allow himself to entertain it for long. Not when the alternative was worse.
Don''t think about it. You''ll find something. Just keep going.This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
The desk beckoned, but before he could dive back in, he needed a break. He made his way to the tiny dorm bathroom, flipping on the light with a groan as it flickered hesitantly to life.
In the mirror, he barely recognized himself. His dark hair stood at odd angles, and faint shadows lined his eyes, the telltale signs of too many late nights tinkering.
I used to care about how I looked. Now... now I don''t even have the energy to care about that. What does it matter, anyway?
He avoided his own gaze, instead focusing on scrubbing the grease off his hands.
"You''re still enrolled," he murmured to himself, the lie as familiar as the air in this room.
"You''re fine. She doesn''t have to know."
She.
His mother''s face surfaced in his mind—stern, hopeful, desperate. He could already hear her voice during their next call.
"How are classes? Are you eating well? Remember, this degree is your future, sweetie."
The truth would crush her.
Maybe she''s better off not knowing the truth. Maybe it''s better to just keep lying.
The lie had been easy at first. One skipped semester turned into two. The money meant for tuition went to his inventions, to the dorm fees, to his endless pursuit of something that would make all of this worth it.
But so far, he had nothing to show for it.
Back at the desk, he dug through a pile of components, searching for something to salvage. His hand brushed against a smooth, unfamiliar surface.
He froze.
His fingers hovered over it—too smooth, too warm. He could tell it wasn''t like the other gadgets scattered across his desk. But for now, he set it aside, knowing there was no time for another failed project.
Another failure in the making? Or could this one actually work?
With a sigh, he turned back to his tools. For now, it would just be another part of the clutter.
His phone buzzed, snapping him out of his thoughts.
A text from Kale.
"You should come join us next time. You can''t live on cup noodles forever."
Attached was a picture of her at home, smiling softly as sunlight streamed over her silvery hair. Her wide eyes, the same shade of blue as the ocean, stared at the camera with that reassuringly hopeful look she always wore.
Another buzz.
This time, it was Thalo.
"Hey. Still playing mad scientist? You better not invent anything that''ll get us all arrested, genius. Lmao. Just joking, joking."
The message came with a selfie—him at a café, dressed in a sharp navy shirt, a smirk playing on his lips. He had that effortless confidence, the kind Mateo could never quite muster, the kind that always made him feel like an outsider.
Mateo snorted, tossing the phone back onto the desk.
He muttered.
"Idiots."
He couldn''t bring himself to ignore the warmth in his chest, the lingering pull of their words. It felt good to be reminded that there were still people who cared, even if he couldn''t face them right now.
He glanced at the phone, the weight of his friends'' messages still hanging in the air.
Maybe I should call her... no, no. Not today.
Mateo sat back in his creaky chair, rolling it toward the window. The campus outside was still, as if the entire world had put a pause on reality, waiting for something. He stared into the distance, his mind wandering.
<hr>
There was a knock at the door.
The sound broke through the fog of his thoughts like an unexpected storm. Mateo jumped, his heart racing for a moment. He quickly stood up, trying to mask his disheveled state, but his hands were shaking slightly.
He glanced at the door, his pulse quickening for reasons he couldn''t explain.
"Mateo? You in there?"
It was the voice of his mother, distant but filled with that familiar maternal concern. His stomach tightened.
He swallowed, straightening himself up, wiping his hands on his pants.
"Yeah, Mom. Just a sec."
The door creaked open, and there she stood, her face painted with a mixture of disappointment and hope, as if she was bracing herself for something.
"I brought you some food," she said, holding out a Tupperware container.
"And how are you doing with classes? You''ve been so quiet lately. I''m getting worried about you."
Mateo took the container, his fingers brushing against hers for a moment. He forced a smile, as convincing as he could make it.
"I''m good, Mom. Really. Classes are fine. Just, you know... busy."
She stared at him, eyes searching for cracks in the facade.
"Well, I hope so. You''re still on track for graduation, right?"
Her words hung in the air like a weight he couldn''t escape from.
"Of course, Mom. I''m fine. I''ll do just fine."
She nodded, not entirely convinced but unwilling to press further.
"Alright. Well, if you need anything, just call. You know I''m here."
As she walked out, Mateo let out a breath he didn''t realize he had been holding. He shut the door softly, trying to push away the guilt that gnawed at his insides.
The room was quiet once more, save for the soft hum of the circuitry and the distant sound of his two friends'' voices in the back of his mind.
The thoughts tugged at him, pulling his mind toward the future. It wasn''t all about the failed inventions.
There had to be a way forward.
There must be.
He knew he couldn''t keep going like this forever, stuck in the same cycle.
Maybe today... today is the day things change.