Det var Halloween på Universitetet i Bergen, og stemningen var elektrisk.

It was Halloween at the Universitetet i Bergen, and the atmosphere was electric.

Korridorene i sovesalen var pyntet med flaggermus og gresskar, mens latter og musikk snek seg ut fra rommene.

The corridors in the dorm were decorated with bats and pumpkins, while laughter and music crept out from the rooms.

Utenfor dryppet regnet stille, og bladene danset i den kalde høstvinden.

Outside, the rain dripped quietly, and the leaves danced in the cold autumn wind.

Inne på rommet sitt satt Lars med hodet bøyd over et rot av bøker og papir.

Inside his room, Lars sat with his head bent over a jumble of books and papers.

Han kjente stresset bygge seg opp.

He felt the stress building up.

Prosjektet hans i ingeniørfag nærmet seg fristen, og tanken på å miste stipendiet gjorde hjertet tungt.

His engineering project was nearing the deadline, and the thought of losing the scholarship made his heart heavy.

Romkameraten hans, Soren, hadde nettopp dratt til en fest nede i gangen.

His roommate, Soren, had just gone to a party down the hall.

Han hadde kledd seg ut som en kunstner fra det kjente maleriet, “Skrik”, og måtte le av sin egen spøk.

He had dressed up as an artist from the famous painting, “Skrik,” and had to laugh at his own joke.

Soren var alltid avslappet, aldri bekymret over skolen, men alltid der for Lars når det gjaldt.

Soren was always relaxed, never worried about school, but always there for Lars when it mattered.

Plutselig begynte Lars å puste tungt.

Suddenly, Lars began to breathe heavily.

Den kjente følelsen av et astmaanfall presset mot brystet.

The familiar feeling of an asthma attack pressed against his chest.

Han strevde med å få luft.

He struggled to get air.

Han prøvde først å ignorere det; dette var kanskje ikke noe stort.

He tried to ignore it at first; maybe this was nothing major.

Men pusten ble mer anstrengt.

But his breathing became more difficult.

Han visste at inhalatoren hans lå hos en venn nede i gangen – en tabbe han ikke kunne tillate seg nå.

He knew that his inhaler was with a friend down the hall—a mistake he couldn't afford now.

Like etter banket det forsiktig på døren, og Ingrid kom inn.

Soon after, there was a gentle knock on the door, and Ingrid came in.

Hun hadde alltid et smil til Lars, men i kveld så hun bekymret ut.

She always had a smile for Lars, but tonight she looked worried.

"Hei, Lars. Jeg tenkte vi kunne se på prosjektet sammen?" sa hun.

"Hey, Lars. I thought we could look at the project together?" she said.

Lars prøvde å smile, men pusteproblemene hans stjal all fokus.

Lars tried to smile, but his breathing problems stole all his focus.

Ingrid så raskt at noe var galt.

Ingrid quickly saw that something was wrong.

"Lars, er du ok?" spurte hun nervøst.

"Lars, are you okay?" she asked nervously.

"Jeg... jeg trenger inhalatoren min," svarte Lars svak.

"I... I need my inhaler," Lars replied weakly.

Han ønsket ikke å slå alarm.

He didn't want to raise the alarm.

Han kunne håndtere det... kanskje.

He could handle it... maybe.

Ingrid kastet et blikk mot døren.

Ingrid glanced toward the door.

Hun visste hvor inhalatoren var.

She knew where the inhaler was.

"Soren er på festen. Jeg ringer ham," sa hun bestemt.

"Soren is at the party. I'll call him," she said decisively.

Hun sendte en melding og la en hånd på armen hans for støtte.

She sent a message and placed a hand on his arm for support.

"Vi klarer dette, Lars."

"We can do this, Lars."

Mens minuttene snek seg forbi, føltes det som en evighet for Lars.

As the minutes crept by, it felt like an eternity for Lars.

Han hørte Sørens raske skritt i korridoren.

He heard Soren's rapid footsteps in the corridor.

Soren stormet inn med inhalatoren i hånden, ansiktet preget av panikk men lettelse.

Soren rushed in with the inhaler in hand, his face marked by panic but relief.

"Her, Lars. Ta denne," sa Soren, stikkende inhalatoren til ham.

"Here, Lars. Take this," said Soren, handing him the inhaler.

Lars tok den med skjelvende hender, som en livline i havet.

Lars took it with trembling hands, like a lifeline in the sea.

Etter et par drag begynte pusten hans å stabilisere seg.

After a couple of puffs, his breathing began to stabilize.

Når han endelig kunne puste normalt igjen, falt han inn i en stol med et lettelsens sukk.

When he finally could breathe normally again, he sank into a chair with a sigh of relief.

Ingrid så alvorlig på ham.

Ingrid looked at him seriously.

"Lars, du må ta vare på deg selv.

"Lars, you have to take care of yourself.

Prosjekter er ikke viktigere enn helsen din."

Projects are not more important than your health."

Lars nikket, tydelig at han endelig forsto det.

Lars nodded, clearly understanding it now.

"Jeg vet. Jeg... jeg skal bli flinkere," svarte han stille.

"I know. I... I will do better," he answered quietly.

Denne opplevelsen hadde lært ham noe uvurderlig.

This experience had taught him something invaluable.

Han innså betydningen av vennskap og behovet for å finne balanse i livet.

He realized the importance of friendship and the need to find balance in life.

Med Ingrid og Soren ved hans side følte han seg tryggere og mer bestemt på å håndtere stresset, litt etter litt.

With Ingrid and Soren by his side, he felt safer and more determined to manage the stress, little by little.

Halloween forvandlet seg fra en kveld med skrekken til en ny start for Lars, midt i det veltede rotet på skrivebordet.

Halloween transformed from a night of fright to a new start for Lars, amid the toppled chaos on his desk.