As an ordinary genius

A year at MIT had passed in what felt like both a blink and a lifetime. The campus, once an overwhelming maze of buildings and expectations, had become familiar. Ethan had found his rhythm—or at least a version of it. Lectures, projects, late-night cramming sessions, and quiet moments in the library had all blended into a routine that he could manage.

But something else had changed, too—his feelings toward Felicity Smoak.

Ethan sat in his dorm room, staring at his laptop. His inbox was open, and at the top of the list was an email from Felicity.

Subject: "Catch Up Soon?"

Body: "Hey, Ethan! Haven't seen you around much lately. Let's grab coffee or something. I have some cool ideas I'd love to share. :)"

He reread the email for the third time, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. A part of him wanted to say yes—to hear her talk about her latest project, to see her smile, to feel like he belonged in her world.

But another part of him, the louder part, said no.

She was a genius, after all. Over the past year, Felicity had quickly earned a reputation as one of the brightest students at MIT. Professors praised her in lectures, classmates sought her advice, and rumors swirled that she was already being scouted by major tech companies.

Ethan, on the other hand, was… average. He was doing fine in his classes, but there were no glowing accolades or offers knocking on his door. He'd worked hard, but it felt like no amount of effort could close the gap between them.

He sighed, closed the email, and shut his laptop.

Over the next few weeks, Ethan made a conscious effort to avoid Felicity. He stopped going to the library during the times she usually studied, skipped out on group hangouts where she might be, and even switched seats in their shared programming class.

"Hey, have you seen Felicity lately?" Raj asked one evening as they worked on an assignment.

"No," Ethan said quickly.

"She was asking about you," Raj said, raising an eyebrow. "Said you've been kind of MIA."

"I've been busy," Ethan replied, focusing on his screen.

"Uh-huh," Raj said, clearly unconvinced.

One rainy afternoon, Ethan was rushing across campus when he spotted her. Felicity was sitting under the awning of the engineering building, her laptop balanced on her knees and a coffee cup in her hand.

"Ethan!" she called out, waving.

He hesitated. For a brief moment, he thought about pretending not to see her, but her bright smile made it impossible.

"Hey," he said, walking over reluctantly.

"You've been a ghost lately," she said, tilting her head. "What's going on?"

"Just… busy," he said, shoving his hands into his pockets.

Felicity frowned. "Busy doing what? You never even replied to my email."

"Sorry about that," Ethan said, avoiding her gaze.

There was an awkward pause before Felicity spoke again. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No! No, it's not you," Ethan said quickly.

"Then what is it?" she asked, her tone softer now.

Ethan hesitated, the words stuck in his throat. How could he explain that it wasn't her, but the gap he felt between them? That every time he saw her, he was reminded of how far out of his league she was?

"I've just got a lot on my plate," he said finally. "That's all."

Felicity studied him for a moment, her green eyes filled with something he couldn't quite place—concern, maybe?

"Well, if you ever want to talk or just grab coffee, let me know," she said, her smile returning but not quite reaching her eyes.

"Yeah, sure," Ethan said, forcing a smile of his own.

As he walked away, the rain began to fall harder, matching the heaviness in his chest.

That night, Ethan sat by his window, watching the rain streak down the glass.

He thought about Felicity—about her brilliance, her kindness, her effortless ability to make everything seem possible. And then he thought about himself—just another face in the crowd, trying to stay afloat.

"She deserves someone who can keep up with her," he thought, his jaw tightening. "Someone who's not… me."

For the first time, he wondered if avoiding her was really the right thing to do. But the thought of being in her orbit, constantly reminded of the gap between them, felt unbearable.