Micah had been studying for his theology midterm—technically a college course, though it felt less like “school work” and more like trying to prove he understood every verse he’d ever grown up hearing. His notebook was filled with color-coded scripture references, margin notes, and half-finished outlines that trailed off when his focus did.

The couch wasn’t meant to be a study spot. That was part of the problem.

His eyes fluttered again, barely open now, fixed on a page about Old Testament prophets that he’d been rereading for the fifth time without actually absorbing it. His handwriting had gotten sloppier with each line, letters tilting like they were getting tired too.

Micah mumbled faintly, “Isaiah… Jeremiah… okay… I got it…”

Except he didn’t. Not really.

His head dipped forward, then caught itself for a second like his body was trying to negotiate with sleep. The pen slid a little further off his fingers, tapping once against the floor as it landed completely.

“Just need to remember the—” he started, but the sentence dissolved halfway through.

That was the last attempt.

The cross necklace rested against his chest as he finally stopped fighting it, breath evening out. One arm stayed draped over his notes like he was still trying to protect them from disappearing overnight. The couch creaked softly as he settled deeper into it, fully asleep now—mid-study, mid-thought, mid-everything.

Micah mumbled faintly, almost lost in his breathing, “Just… five more minutes…”