Ethan didn’t just fall asleep — he crashed.One second he was barely upright, the next he slumped sideways on the nurse’s cot, out cold.

  Mrs. Hartley checked him twice, clearly worried, then hurried off to call the counselor or maybe the damn CDC, because Ethan looked like a cautionary tale about sleep deprivation.

  Now it was just me and him.

  I leaned back in the chair and stared at him.He looked rough. Worse than this morning. Dark circles, pale skin, hair all messed to hell. Like someone had unplugged his life battery overnight and he was still running on fumes.

  “Jesus” I muttered. “When was the st time you actually slept… voluntarily?”

  Of course, he didn’t respond. Just breathed slow and heavy, dead to the world.

  I rubbed the back of my neck, sitting forward again.And there it was — that neckce he suddenly never takes off.

  Simple. Silver chain, little pendant. Nothing special. But it bugged me anyway — not in a conspiracy way, just—

  He never used to wear jewelry.

  Curiosity tapped me on the shoulder and went hey, maybe check it out again.

  I hesitated, then reached toward it slowly, like I was defusing a bomb made of teenage awkwardness.I wasn’t pnning to steal it. Just… see what the hell it was.

  My fingers brushed the chain.

  And Ethan twitched — not waking up, not grabbing me, just a tired reflex like someone having a bad dream.

  I froze. Pulled my hand back.

  “Alright. Alright, chill,” I whispered, hands up like he could see. “I’m not robbing you.”

  He stayed out cold. Didn’t move again.

  I exhaled and slumped back, staring at the ceiling.

  Was it dumb to worry? Yeah. Did I anyway? Absolutely.

  He looked… worn down. Like school, life, stress, and maybe a stampede of bulls had all teamed up to personally ruin him.

  And I had no idea why.

  All I knew was he needed sleep. And probably food. And maybe a priest.

  I gnced at him again.

  “Whatever’s going on… you gotta talk to someone eventually.”

  Silence.

  Just Ethan breathing.

  I sat there and stayed with him. Because exhausted or not, secretive or not, he was still my friend.

  And friends don’t let each other face-pnt into nurse beds alone.