XH learned early that listening made life easier.
Not because he had nothing to say, but because the world said too much all at once. At Campus 2, that habit followed him like a shadow. In lectures, in group chats, in late lunches that turned into long evenings, he was always there. Always present. Just rarely loud.
He sat in the same seat most days. Third row. Near the window. Close enough to hear questions clearly, far enough not to be called on by accident. Sunlight liked that seat. It warmed the desk in the afternoon and made the pages of his notebook glow faintly, like they mattered more than they probably did.
XH's notes were neat.
Not perfect. Just careful.
He wrote in short lines, leaving space between thoughts as if ideas needed room to breathe. Headings were underlined once, never twice. Diagrams were simple, almost shy. He didn't decorate his pages, but he rewrote things later, quietly correcting himself when something finally clicked.
He liked that moment.The click.
In anatomy, he traced muscles slowly, whispering names under his breath like they were people he was meeting for the first time. In physiology, he paused often, staring at graphs until they made sense emotionally, not just logically.
TR once leaned over and asked, "Why do you rewrite everything?"
XH shrugged. "The second time feels more honest."
TR stared at him like that explained nothing. "You're weird."
"Yeah," JP added from behind them. "But in a calm way."
XH didn't mind being called weird. Calm was better than invisible.
He used Notion, but not aggressively like JP. His pages were simple. A main list. Subsections. Flashcards only when he felt overwhelmed. He preferred physical cards sometimes, flipping them slowly, testing himself without pressure.
If he didn't know an answer, he didn't panic.
He just wrote it down to find later.
During practical sessions, XH was careful with people.
In blood pressure practice, he asked permission before touching someone's arm, even when the instructions didn't say he had to. When practicing glucose testing, his hands shook slightly the first time, but he focused on being gentle rather than fast.
"You're good at this," Kitty once said quietly.
XH looked up, surprised. "I'm slow."
She smiled. "That's why."
He carried that sentence with him longer than he admitted.
In group settings, XH wasn't the leader, but he was the glue.
When TR's jokes went too far, XH laughed just enough to soften them. When NS grew quiet, XH didn't force conversation. He sat beside him, shared space, let silence do its work.
HS trusted him with notes. PL trusted him with secrets he immediately regretted sharing. JP trusted him to listen when systems failed.
SP once watched him carefully during a lab session.
"You don't rush," SP said.
XH shrugged. "Things fall when you rush."
SP nodded like that made sense.
Outside class, XH liked small things.
Cheap coffee that tasted like effort. Walking instead of taking rides when time allowed. Sitting on steps and watching people pass, guessing where they were headed.
He liked being part of a group without standing at the center of it.
Late afternoons at C-2 were his favorite.
When the campus quieted just enough. When the sun dipped low and painted the buildings warm. When conversations slowed and laughter came easier.
Sometimes, he stayed behind after everyone left. Not lonely. Just thinking.
He replayed moments more than he should have.
A smile he missed.A sentence he almost said.A look that lingered half a second too long.
XH was good at remembering details.
The way Kitty held her pen.The way NS clenched his jaw when focused.The way TR laughed louder when he felt unsure.
He noticed patterns in people before he noticed them in textbooks.
That was both his strength and his weakness.
During social work classes, when the lecturer talked about listening without fixing, XH felt oddly seen.
"You don't always need to respond," she said. "Presence is a response."
XH wrote that down once.Then again, smaller, in the corner of the page.
Friends teased him for being quiet, but they also looked for him when things felt heavy.
"Sit with me," PL said once, out of nowhere.
XH did. They didn't talk much. It helped anyway.
He didn't think of himself as brave.
Brave people spoke first. Chose quickly. Took risks loudly.
XH believed bravery was something you prepared for. Something you earned by understanding everything first.
Sometimes, he prepared too long.
But right now, in this version of himself, before choices hardened and silence became habit, XH was simply a boy learning how to be steady in a moving world.
A student at Campus 2.A friend who stayed.A listener who remembered.
And for the moment, that was enough.