Morning light slipped softly through the tall window of the seminary infirmary, spreading across the quiet room and warming the pale walls. Outside, the bell of the chapel rang for morning prayer, its steady tone echoing gently across the courtyard.
Michael was already awake.
He sat half-upright on the narrow bed, his injured hand resting in a sling across his chest. The dull ache had faded since the previous day, though the bandages still felt heavy around his wrist.
The door opened quietly.
Lucas stepped in.
He carried the calm energy he always seemed to bring with him, though there was still a hint of concern in his eyes whenever he looked at Michael's arm.
"Well," Lucas said, leaning casually against the wall, "I see the famous fighter is awake."
Michael smirked.
"Very funny."
Lucas folded his arms.
"You realize the entire seminary thinks you started a revolution on the football field."
Michael rolled his eyes.
"I tried to stop a fight."
Lucas raised an eyebrow.
"And instead you fought the ground."
Michael laughed softly.
Before he could respond, another voice came from the doorway.
"Well look who is finally recovering."
Sam walked in carrying two glass bottles and a small bag of snacks from the refectory.
"I brought beverages," he announced proudly, placing them on the small table beside the bed.
Michael looked relieved.
"Finally, someone who understands hospital suffering".
Sam grinned and handed Lucas one of the bottles.
As the three of them talked, Sam noticed something he had been slowly realizing over the past few days.
Lucas adjusted Michael's pillow without thinking.
A moment later he reminded him not to move his injured hand too much.
Michael listened to him without complaint.
Their conversations flowed easily, naturally, as if they had known each other for years.
Sam leaned back slightly and watched them.
For the first time, he understood clearly.
There was something deeper between them.
He didn't say anything about it.
Instead he smiled quietly and continued the conversation.
Not long after, footsteps echoed down the corridor.
The infirmary door opened again.
Michael's mother entered first, her face filled with concern. His father followed behind her, and his sister stepped in last.
"Michael!" his mother exclaimed softly as she hurried to the bed.
"I'm fine, Mum," Michael said quickly.
She carefully took his bandaged hand, examining it with worried eyes.
"You said it was just a small injury."
"It is," Michael replied gently. "I promise."
His father spoke briefly with the priest who worked in the infirmary, asking about the treatment and recovery.
Meanwhile Michael introduced Lucas.
"This is Lucas. He stayed with me."
Michael's mother turned to him immediately.
"You're the one who helped him?"
Lucas nodded politely.
"Yes, ma'am."
"Thank you," she said sincerely. "We are very grateful."
Lucas felt slightly embarrassed by the attention.
Sam quickly stepped in to lighten the mood.
"Michael has become a celebrity here," he joked. "The entire football field witnessed his heroic fall."
Everyone laughed, even Michael's father.
But while the others talked, Michael's sister quietly watched.
She noticed how Lucas stood close to the bed.
How he instinctively reached forward when Michael tried to move his injured arm.
How Michael seemed completely relaxed around him.
It was a kind of happiness she hadn't seen in her brother for a long time.
Eventually the visit came to an end.
Michael's parents said their goodbyes, promising to call again soon.
Lucas walked with them outside to where their car waited near the seminary courtyard.
The evening air was cool.
Michael's sister lingered for a moment before getting into the car.
"Lucas," she said softly.
He turned toward her.
"Thank you for taking care of him."
Lucas shook his head.
"It was nothing."
She studied him for a moment, her expression thoughtful.
"He smiles more when you're around."
Lucas didn't know how to respond to that.
She gave him a small, understanding smile before finally getting into the car.
The vehicle slowly disappeared down the quiet road leading away from the seminary.
Lucas stood there for a moment before returning to the infirmary.
Inside, the room had grown peaceful again.
The golden glow of sunset filtered through the window.
Michael looked up when Lucas entered.
"Did my sister say anything strange?" he asked curiously.
Lucas smiled faintly.
"No."
Michael relaxed slightly.
For a moment neither of them spoke.
Then Lucas leaned back in the chair beside the bed.
"You know," he said casually, "now that you're trapped here, you finally have time to practice singing."
Michael raised an eyebrow.
"Is that your subtle way of asking me to sing?"
"Maybe."
Michael chuckled softly.
After a moment he took a slow breath.
Then he began to sing.
His voice was gentle at first, almost hesitant.
But as the notes filled the quiet room, it grew stronger—clear and warm, echoing softly against the walls of the infirmary.
The fading sunlight seemed to glow around him.
Lucas didn't look away for a second.
Michael's voice carried a strange calmness, something peaceful and almost heavenly.
When the final note faded into silence, neither of them spoke.
They simply looked at each other.
Lucas slowly reached forward.
He took Michael's free hand.
Michael didn't pull away.
Their fingers intertwined naturally.
The air between them felt heavy with something neither of them fully understood.
Lucas's gaze softened.
Slowly… carefully… he leaned closer.
Michael's heart began to race.
But he didn't move away.
Their faces drew nearer.
The distance between them disappeared.
And just as their lips were about to meet—
The infirmary door opened.
Both of them pulled back immediately.
The priest stepped inside, holding a small clipboard.
"Good news," he said calmly.
"You'll be discharged tomorrow morning."
Michael blinked in surprise.
Lucas exhaled quietly.
The moment had vanished.
But the feeling it left behind lingered in the quiet room long after the priest finished speaking.