Morning light slipped gently through the tall window of the seminary infirmary, spreading across the white walls and the narrow hospital bed where Michael lay sleeping. Outside, the bell from the chapel rang for morning prayer, its calm rhythm drifting through the still air.
Michael stirred slowly.
The dull ache in his hand returned the moment he moved. His right arm rested in a sling, wrapped carefully in thick white bandages.
He blinked and turned his head.
Lucas was sitting beside the bed.
Or rather—half sitting, half sleeping.
His head rested against the side of the mattress, one arm folded across the chair as if he had meant to stay awake but eventually lost the battle with sleep.
Michael stared at him for a moment.
"You stayed," he murmured quietly.
Lucas shifted slightly, blinking awake.
"You snore," he said immediately, straightening up and rubbing his eyes. "Like an old tractor."
Michael smiled faintly.
"Didn't know tractors snored."
Lucas shrugged.
"I'm discovering new things every day."
Michael studied him for a second.
"You didn't go back to the dormitory last night."
Lucas avoided his eyes and stood up.
"I went," he said casually. "I just… came back."
Michael didn't argue. But the small smile on his face said he didn't quite believe him.
A few minutes later Lucas returned carrying a small tray from the refectory.
Bread.
Tea.
And a bowl of porridge.
"Breakfast," Lucas announced.
Michael tried to sit up, but the movement sent a sharp pain through his arm.
Lucas immediately moved forward.
"Careful."
"I'm fine," Michael said stubbornly.
"You're terrible at resting," Lucas replied, gently pushing him back against the pillow before adjusting the blanket around him.
Michael reached for the spoon with his left hand.
It slipped awkwardly from his grip.
Lucas watched him struggle for a moment before sighing.
"Give it here."
"I can do it."
"Michael."
"I said I can—"
Lucas had already taken the spoon.
"Just eat."
Michael looked at him, slightly embarrassed.
"I'm not a child."
"No," Lucas said calmly. "But right now you're a patient."
Michael hesitated.
Then finally gave in.
Lucas began feeding him slowly, pretending the situation was completely normal.
After a few minutes Michael muttered quietly,
"If anyone walks in right now, I'm blaming you."
Lucas grinned.
"Relax. The whole seminary already knows you tried to stop a war yesterday."
Michael rolled his eyes.
"I didn't start it."
"True," Lucas admitted. "But you definitely ended it—with a broken hand."
Michael laughed softly, then winced.
"Don't make me laugh."
"Then stop doing heroic things."
Later that afternoon Michael tried to stand up on his own.
Lucas caught him halfway.
"Where are you going?"
"The toilet," Michael replied.
Lucas folded his arms.
"And you thought walking alone with one good hand was a brilliant plan?"
"I can manage."
Lucas shook his head.
"You're impossible."
Despite the protest, he moved beside Michael and helped steady him.
Michael leaned slightly against him as they walked slowly across the room.
The closeness made both of them strangely quiet.
But neither stepped away.
Later that evening Lucas returned again with more news from the outside world.
"You missed philosophy class," he said, sitting down beside the bed.
"Tragic," Michael replied.
"Sam fell asleep halfway through the lecture."
Michael laughed.
"That doesn't surprise me."
"And Father Dominic asked where you were."
"What did you say?"
Lucas shrugged.
"I told him you started a football riot."
Michael stared at him.
"You did not."
Lucas smiled.
"I might have."
Michael shook his head.
"You're terrible."
They spent the rest of the evening talking quietly while the sky outside darkened.
Several times Michael's phone rang.
Each time it was his parents.
Lucas watched as Michael spoke softly to them.
"Yes, Mum… I'm fine."
"No, it's not serious."
"Yes, they treated it."
At one point Michael laughed softly.
"Mum, it's just a broken hand, not the end of the world."
Lucas could hear the worry in the woman's voice even from where he sat.
When the call ended Michael sighed.
"She wants to come immediately."
Lucas raised an eyebrow.
"And?"
"I told her to wait."
"Why?"
Michael leaned back into the pillow.
"Because she'll bring my father. And my father will bring enough food to feed the entire seminary."
Lucas chuckled.
"I'm not seeing a problem there."
Night slowly settled over the infirmary.
The corridor lights dimmed, and the building grew quiet.
Michael eventually fell asleep.
Lucas sat beside the bed, flipping through a small book he had brought with him.
Then Michael's phone rang again.
Lucas glanced at him.
Still asleep.
The phone continued vibrating.
Lucas picked it up quietly.
"Hello?"
A female voice answered.
"Michael?"
Lucas hesitated.
"No… this is Lucas. His friend."
"Oh," she said gently. "This is his sister."
Lucas relaxed slightly.
"He's sleeping," Lucas explained. "The pain medicine made him tired."
"Is he okay?"
"Yes," Lucas said. "His hand is fractured, but the priest said he'll recover."
There was a small pause on the other end.
"Thank you for staying with him," she said softly.
Lucas glanced toward Michael.
"He would do the same for anyone."
Another silence followed.
Then she spoke again, her voice a little more serious.
"Please take care of him."
Lucas nodded even though she couldn't see him.
"I will."
Before ending the call she added quietly,
"He's not lucky with men."
Lucas frowned slightly.
"That's why he joined the seminary," she continued.
The words lingered in the air after the call ended.
Lucas lowered the phone slowly.
For a long moment he sat there thinking.
Then he looked at Michael sleeping peacefully beneath the thin blanket.
His expression softened.
He reached forward and gently adjusted the blanket around Michael's shoulders.
His voice dropped to a whisper.
"I won't hurt you."
Michael didn't wake.
But the quiet promise stayed in the room long after the lights dimmed.