A/N: It's been more than a year since I last posted, but I hope you all enjoy this short story.
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Something's wrong with Nathan. He can feel it. An uncanny numbness has taken over him these past two years. He feels oddly detached from life, from his family, from his friends. That's not to say he has completely shut himself off from his loved ones. Though he is now a sophomore, he talks to his parents over FaceTime at least twice a week. The conversations are nothing special: Nathan gives brief updates about his studies and college life, while his parents rambles about things back home, like how his little sister, Elena, always watches TikToks at the dinner table, or how his dad's architecture firm just got commissioned to design the new city public library. While Nathan listens to their stories, jumping in with a few questions here and there, he feels like he doesn't really care, like if mom, dad, and Elena all disappeared into another dimension the next day, he wouldn't shed a tear. It is the same with his friends. Lately, he doesn't really feel like talking to or hanging out with them. If someone mentions his name in a group chat, or if they happen to be discussing something particularly interesting or funny, he would join in, making some brief comments or sending a relevant meme. But otherwise, he wouldn't do anything. He no longer leaves comments on Carly's pictures with her girlfriend or replies to Abhinav's hot takes on his "close friends" Instagram stories. For some reason, he's just overcome with disinterest.
The first time he realized this phenomenon was when his parents dropped him off at the airport for his flight to university. They would have loved to help him move in, but his dad was busy finishing off the floorplan for a client's mansion, and his mom had to look after Elena, who had a burning fever. As his teary-eyed mom hugged him, telling him how proud they were of him for getting into such a good school, Nathan found a weird block inside his mind. His mom's embrace felt cold, even though she was tightly pressed against him. And when she told him that she loved him, he said "I love you too, Mom." in return, but the words felt fake, like he was simply saying it because he knew he was supposed to. The same thing happened again in freshman year when Mona, who is still one of his closest friends at college to this day, got cheated on by her douchebag boyfriend. As Nathan hugged and comforted her, he was struck with that same feeling of numbness and detachment. He felt like he was reading from a script, like a student who did not properly prepare for his presentation and was clumsily regurgitating the words on his slides: "It's gonna be okay, Mo," "I know you're feeling like shit and I fucking hate Xavier for this," "I'm always here for you if you need to talk." Did he really mean those words? Did he even feel sad that his friend was hurt?
At first Nathan thought it was depression. But he doesn't feel particularly sad. He still feels motivated to do well in classes. He still hangs out with his friends when invited. He even has the energy to go to the gym twice a week. Then he thought he might be a sociopath. But he doesn't think he's an evil person in that way. He doesn't manipulate people or lie to them, nor is he aggressive and reckless. Then what is it that is making him so disengaged from life? Nathan wants the answer, but he doesn't really want to think about it. He reckons that doing so would be mentally taxing, and maybe he fears what he might find deep in the corners of his mind, so instead, he distracts himself with other things, going through the motions of life day after day.
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"Alright everyone, we're changing things up this time around," Kelly, a senior with bubblegum-colored pigtails dressed in overalls, announces with a big smile. "Instead of having editors work on multiple articles, we will assign each editor to only one article. You will work directly with the writer and after revision, send the article to me and Spencer. We'll read the paper one final time, make any suggestions ourselves, and then approve it for the journal. Are we all clear on that?"
Nathan nods in unison with the other students in the room. Freshman year, when he joined the editorial board of the undergraduate historical review, there weren't many people - four, including him, to be exact. The university is known for its science and engineering departments, which means history majors like himself are harder to come by. But thanks to the heavy recruiting efforts of Kelly and Spencer, who are now Co-Editors-in-Chief, more editors have joined the team. They even got someone to design the journal cover, which will be so much better than the current text-on-image format.
"Cool, so it's time to divide the work," Spencer, who seems to be the opposite of Kelly with his serious and standoffish attitude, says. They received 10 submissions this year - which, according to Spencer, is the most they have ever got - but only six were accepted. There are a total of 7 editors, but Kelly will be working with Jorge, a seemingly shy freshman.
"Can I take the one about racial ideologies in Chinese nationalism?" Joy, an energetic sophomore who just switched from pre-med to history because she was "done pretending she wanted to be a doctor," raises her hand.
"Alright, Joy for the Chinese nationalism piece, going once...going twice...and sold," Kelly laughs. "Does anyone else want to call dibs on an article? Nathan?"
"Uh...I'm not sure," Nathan avoids Kelly's beaming smile and studies the list of articles and the authors, none of whom he recognizes. "You can just choose a random one for me."
"Hmmm, how about," Kelly pauses for a second, her eyes scanning her laptop screen, "the one about the global spread of haiku?"
"Uh...," Nathan hesitates, "Sure. I can take that one."
"Great, Nathan is set," Kelly says, and Nathan stares at his laptop as Spencer writes his name on the Google Doc next to the article's author. Keith Liu. Who the hell is Keith Liu?
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"Nathan?" a voice calls. Nathan raises his eyes from the laptop screen to find a guy looking at him.
A really cute guy, as Keith Liu turns out to be.
"Hey, you must be Keith," Nathan says, his gaze fixed on Keith's bright, charming eyes, which shine through his circular, thin-rimmed glasses. "Nice to meet you."
"Nice to meet you, too," Keith smiles as he sets his backpack down and takes a seat across from Nathan, dimples appearing on his plump cheeks. A patch of rough stubble lines his chin and part of his jaw, and Nathan gets the sudden urge to rub his fingers on it. Actually, Nathan wants to do more than that. He wants to trace his thumb on Keith's pinkish lips, to run his hands through Keith's wavy black hair, to feel Keith's cheeks get hot under his touch.
"Thanks for meeting me here today," Nathan says, feeling like a creepy loser for his lewd thoughts about a guy he just met. "Usually the editors don't meet up with the writers but the Editors-in-Chief wanted to shake things up this year.'
"That's cool. You picked a great spot, by the way," Keith says, looking around the library, while Nathan takes the opportunity to steal some more glances. Keith is wearing the school hoodie, which means Nathan can't really get a good look at Keith's body. Nonetheless, he looks well-built, with wide shoulders and arms that fill out the hoodies' sleeves.
"So, are you a history major?" Nathan asks.
"Nah," Keith says, "I'm doing English."
"Oh, cool," Nathan replies, disappointed that he won't get to see Keith in his history courses. "I'm asking since it's a really good article. You must've gotten an A for it, right?"
"Aww, thanks man," Keith smiles, and Nathan stares at those dimples again. "And yeah it did get me an A."
"Nice. So I've already made some edits on concision and cohesion. There are a few parts where I think you could add some more examples as well. Can you send a revised version in about, let's say, 2 weeks?"
"Oh...," Keith says, hesitantly, his eyes widening, "Uh, sure. Totally."
"Is something wrong? You can totally ask for more time and I'll help you with research if you need and-"
