6. Painting Competition

Adrian sat at the small table in the corner of the hospital room, picking at his lunch with little enthusiasm. The cafeteria's cabbage soup was bland and watery, hardly appetizing, but it was all he had. He mechanically spooned the liquid into his mouth.

Ethan's soul floated nearby, watching with growing concern. The void he inhabited was silent, yet in his mind, he was speaking as if Adrian could hear him. It had become a habit of sorts over the past week—Ethan would talk, venting his frustrations and thoughts, even though he knew Adrian couldn't hear a word.

"That cabbage soup looks awful," Ethan commented, his voice tinged with worry. "How do they expect you to get any strength with that? You're already so weak… you need more than just broth to keep you going."

Adrian continued eating, unaware of the spectral figure standing beside him.

"You need more food, Adrian," Ethan's soul murmured, his ethereal voice carrying a hint of desperation. "You're too thin, too fragile. You should be eating something hearty, something that will give you strength."

But Adrian couldn't hear him, and Ethan felt the familiar pang of helplessness.

Still, despite the frustration, there was a strange comfort in being able to accompany Adrian, even if only in this silent, unseen way.

After finishing his meager lunch, Adrian set the empty bowl aside, his appetite barely sated. He sighed softly, leaning back in his chair as he stared blankly at the wall.

Ethan glanced at the bowl and felt that this little food was equal to no food.

The silence was broken by the sharp trill of his phone ringing. Adrian blinked, startled out of his daze, and quickly reached for the device. The number on the screen was unfamiliar.

With a small frown, he pressed the button and brought the phone to his ear.

"Hello?"

"Adrian, it's Professor Lowell," a familiar voice greeted him from the other end of the line. Adrian's heart skipped a beat at the sound of his old teacher's voice, a wave of nostalgia and longing washing over him. Professor Lowell had been more than just a teacher to him; he was a mentor, someone who had nurtured Adrian's love for painting and encouraged him to pursue his passion.

"Professor," Adrian said, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "It's been so long. How are you?"

"I'm well, Adrian," Professor Lowell replied warmly. "But more importantly, how are you? I've been worried about you. We haven't heard from you in months."

Adrian hesitated, unsure of how to explain the tumultuous events of the past few weeks. "I'm… managing," he said finally, his voice subdued. "A lot has happened recently. I'm sorry I haven't been in touch."

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line, as if Professor Lowell was carefully considering his next words. "I understand, Adrian. Life can be unpredictable. But I wanted to check in with you, especially since the university is finalizing the participants for the International Painting Competition."

Adrian's heart sank at the mention of the competition. He had been looking forward to it for an entire year, dreaming of the day when his work would be showcased on an international stage. But now, with everything that had happened, it seemed like an impossible dream.

"I… I don't think I'll be able to participate this year," Adrian admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "Things have changed, and I don't know when I'll be able to return to the university."

Professor Lowell's sigh was audible through the phone. "I was afraid of that," he said gently. "Adrian, the university needs to know if you're going to participate. If you can't, they'll have to give your spot to someone else."

Adrian's eyes widened in shock. "Someone else?" he repeated, his heart pounding. "But… I've worked so hard for this. I've been preparing all year. Isn't there something that can be done? Maybe I could still—"

"Adrian," Professor Lowell interrupted softly, his tone tinged with regret, "I wish there was more I could do, but the decision isn't mine. The university has to make sure the students representing them are fully prepared and able to commit. If you can't be there, they'll need to find someone who can."

The weight of Professor Lowell's words hit Adrian like a ton of bricks. His dream, the one thing that had kept him going through all the chaos, was slipping through his fingers. "But I don't want to lose this opportunity," he said, desperation creeping into his voice. "Isn't there any way I could still compete? Maybe remotely or something?"

"I'm sorry, Adrian," Professor Lowell replied, his voice heavy with sympathy. "The university's rules are clear. They require in-person participation, and if you're not able to return in time, they'll have no choice but to assign your spot to someone else."

Adrian felt his world crumbling around him. He had sacrificed so much already—his freedom, his dreams of painting—only to find that he was losing even more.

Ethan's soul hovered nearby, watching the turmoil play out on Adrian's face. He could sense the boy's anguish, the crushing weight of disappointment, and it tore at him. He wanted to reach out, to comfort Adrian in some way, but all he could do was watch as the boy struggled to hold himself together.

"I understand," Adrian finally whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "Thank you for letting me know, Professor."

"I'm sorry, Adrian," Professor Lowell said softly. "I know how much this meant to you. If there's anything I can do to help you in the future, please don't hesitate to reach out. You're a talented artist, and I have no doubt that you'll find your way back to painting, even if it's not in this competition."

"Thank you," Adrian managed to say, though the words felt hollow. He ended the call and slowly set the phone down on the table, his hands trembling.

He had lost everything.

The tears came suddenly, overwhelming him with their intensity. Adrian buried his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking as he cried.

Ethan's soul stood frozen, his own heart aching as he watched Adrian break down. He wanted to comfort him, to tell him that everything would be okay, but the distance between them was insurmountable. He could only stand there, a silent witness to Adrian's despair.

"I don't know what to do anymore," Adrian whispered to the empty room, his voice barely audible. "I don't know how to keep going."

Suddenly he looked at Ethan's body. Yes, He is not alone...He has his new family.

Though...he don't know if he will accept him.