Nicholas dragged his sore limbs to a nearby weight bench, breaths coming out in short pants, cheeks tinted in a dark red to prove his need for air. The sharp pain vibrated through his muscles as he attempted to stretch. A deep chuckle caught Nicholas's attention. 

"Shut up," he mumbled. 

Humaid squatted down with a heavy weight set on both sides of his barbell, bending his knees with a straight back. "Come on, Nick," he strained out, holding his position before rising up again. "You were doing so well."

Nicholas glared. "I officially renounce our friendship."

The typical college gym was filled with men flexing at every opportunity to boast their muscle mass to the ladies, where women would occasionally send a flirty wink their way, and teasing the men through their walks, adding an extra sway to the hips. Nicholas almost swore that he saw the guy beside them drool. 

Surprisingly, Humaid had managed to focus only on his workout, evening his breathing through mental alerts. Dark gray spots began to wet his silver t-shirt, the material clinging to his well-defined pectorals and abdomen. The rigged planes of his sculpted body tensed and flexed under the massive effort of his workout. Humaid's midnight black hair dripped with excess sweat, the body's reaction to the sudden heat from exercising. Nicholas felt his own blonde hair mirror his friend's. 

"Why would you be so cruel?" asked Humaid, voice infused with jest. Squatting, he struggled to maintain his grin through the burning of torn muscles. "Come... on."

"Never again," opposed Nicholas, still struggling to breathe. "I feel the lactic acid building."

Humaid's chest rumbled with laughter, standing back up. "Just breathe, sport," he smiled.

"Explain to me how, dear friend. This is not proper aerobic breathing!"

Putting his set of weight back, Humaid began his stretches, tan skin glistening with dampness. A slick sheen layered upon his skin, face becoming flushed after a tedious workout with hardly any breaks. Nicholas had no idea how he managed to keep up such a rigorous routine. Humaid smoothed his hair backwards to prevent any distractions. 

"When you workout, there's a certain trick to breathing," he said, pulling his left arm over his head. "Before entering the most difficult part of the workout, you inhale. For example, my squats. I inhaled before bending my knees, and when I got back up I exhaled."

"I did."

"You're panting like a dog, man. You probably didn't take deep breaths, hence the reason why you claim a lactic acid build up."

Nicholas's brows furrowed. "How do you know all this?" he asked, wiping some of the sweat with a small, white towel. 

He lifted his right arm over his head this time, pulling gently on the limb. "I'm a med student here. This information is literally shoved into my brain on a daily," chuckled Humaid. 

"Wait, what?" he questioned, cerulean eyes widening at the revelation. "Are you and Haroon med students? What year are you in? I thought you were my age."

Humaid shook his head, focusing on his legs and calves. "Nah, I'm a couple years your senior. Actually this is my second year in medical school. I don't have to pay much because of my scholarships."

Nicholas was truly astounded. "How do you even have time for college football if you're a med student? You must be insane, Humaid."

"I swear I'm not," he grinned. "I don't play as intensively for football anymore, but I still like to play it every once in a while. If it makes you feel better, Haroon thinks I'm crazy too."

He scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "I don't blame him. You're the most productive student I know and that's coming from a nerd."

"In my opinion, out of all my siblings, Dina is definitely the most productive nerd in our household."

Suddenly, the familiar heartstrings of love pulled the chords to Nicholas's heart. "Really?" he asked, trying his best to stay casual. "I mean, I know she's very studious."

"Yeah, she definitely is," he smiled sadly, a faraway look entering his brown eyes. Humaid took the seat beside Nicholas, towel hanging on his neck, and arms resting on his knees. "Sometimes I feel like Dina gets overwhelmed by Haroon and I."

Nicholas tilted his head, gesturing for him to continue. 

Humaid sighed. "People notice Haroon and I for our accomplishments. This year Haroon's getting his Master's Degree in chemical engineering, and I'm a medical student currently. It's my last year with the lecture based learning, so we're talked about pretty often. Dina doesn't want to be a doctor or an engineer, the two career choices that foreign parents urge their children to pursue."

"What does she want to be?"

"A journalist. Initially, my parents were pretty upset, but Dina has a gift with words. She's the most informed about everything in our home and can argue politics for hours on end," he said, lips curling into a wide smile as he fondly thought about his litter sister. "She works so hard that I wonder if she ever takes a break from school."

"That explains why she's in my English course," he muttered under his breath.

Unfortunately, Humaid caught his words. "She is?" he questioned.

"Uh... well..." stumbled Nicholas before clearing his throat. I just had to open my mouth. 

"Aren't you two in completely different years?"

"We are."

"So how are you in her class? I'd like to assume that you completed your English credit earlier than your last year in college," he scoffed in disbelief. 

Nicholas nodded, shyly looking away. He was never one to talk about his ambitions in life, especially with the capricious expectations from his parents. Their pressure piled on his shoulders, growing and growing till they became unbearable, an everlasting pain that dulled over the years, the void left as an empty cavity. 

They never agreed with his career path. They never cared for his dreams. They never wanted a son like him. Nicholas was not the heir of their dreams. He was not fit for his father's throne, his business, his life. 

Nicholas still chose a business major, but not for the reasons that his father outlined. His plan was simple. A business major could get a decent job at a company or could create his own like a publishing company.

"I want to be a professional author," mumbled Nicholas, turning away. "Look I know it's a stupid choice when I could be more, but that's what I want. Being an author is a career path that intrigues me. It gives me the life that I have control over."

He waited for Humaid to laugh, to snort, to tease his silly aspirations. The path to becoming an author was as hard as becoming a doctor, an engineer, or a scientist. It was a different form of business, not the ideal, but a business agreement in every way. 

However, Nicholas didn't feel the burning shame that consumed him in front of others. A large hand squeezed his shoulders in reassurance, gently turning Nicholas towards Humaid, a man who was everything he wished he could be. Similarly, he felt the pull of his heartstrings, a delicate feather against the years of suffering he had faced. Gazing into Humaid's dark brown eyes, Nicholas didn't experience isolation fears, but rather the blossoming of a friendship. 

It was the same feeling as the night that Elijah comforted him.

"Don't listen to what other people say, Nick," he smiled, bright teeth shining just like his sister's. "They don't know what's in your heart. They don't know what you believe. They don't know you. If you want to be a writer, then don't let anyone stop you."

He stayed silent, watching his friend in awe. How had he not realized the friendships that he was blessed with? How did he not realize that the darkness would never last? Nonetheless, the cloud of apprehension hovered over him as Nicholas cowered away from his mental strength, succumbing to his insecurities.

"How are you able to say that with no doubts?" he voiced his thoughts. "Don't you worry about what others think?"

Humiad shook his head. "People always talk, but that doesn't mean I should let them dictate me. Besides, with Allah on my side, none of them matter. I don't need to please people."

There was that name again. Allah.

God's mercy showered upon the Younes siblings even though they each suffered through their own quests for glory. Somehow, they had not strayed towards the numbing pain that consumed him. They believed in God.

And God protected them.

----

I like how in the beginning I said I'd only write short chapters, yet these are still decently long. Any complaints?

On a happy note, I got a publishing contract for HC, but I'm unsure because it's vanity publishing. I contacted some agents, so pray for me y'all.

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