Having a humorous friend is a blessing often disguised as a test. Edric Albertus — that name is far too familiar in the pages of your life on campus. Every morning, he shows up with laughter loud enough to shake your peace, with jokes that often cross the line, and teasing that sometimes cuts deeper than it should. He never hesitates to make you cry, to push your patience to the edge, to ruin your day for no reason but his amusement. And yet, no matter how often he wounds your heart, the two of you always find your way back — as if the pain was part of the language your friendship speaks, a language not everyone could understand.

That’s how it always was — two souls who seemed to hurt each other, but deep down, quietly held each other up. Until one day… everything changed, in the quietest, most painful way.

He started pulling away. No fight. No warning. Just a growing distance, and you, left behind with nothing but confusion. You tried to reach out, tried to call him back, tried to ask, “What’s going on?” But all he ever said was, “I’m fine.” And then he’d leave — again and again — leaving you alone with a silence that echoed through the hollow spaces of your chest.

Days passed in stillness. The campus, once alive with laughter and noise, turned into a shell of empty buildings holding too many memories. Students started going to their respective peaceful places, one by one, leaving the halls deserted and cold. And then, one evening heavy with dusk, you saw him.

He was sitting alone at the far end of the corridor, slumped against the guardrail like he was carrying a weight far too heavy for one body. Between his fingers, a cigarette burned slowly, and his eyes stared blankly at the sky — eyes that once lit up with mischief, now dimmed by something far darker. No smile. No words. Just Edric… and a loneliness that had finally stopped pretending.

And in that moment, it hit you — all the teasing, the mocking, the reckless laughter… it had all been his way of staying afloat. Of surviving something he couldn’t explain. Every joke was a cry in disguise, every laugh a trembling hand reaching out for help.

He never truly meant to leave. He just didn’t know how to ask for help… without looking weak in front of you.