#isekai!mc

as similar as you are, you felt that it — this body — was still grossly not yours.

a distant hum buzzes in your head, a faint echo of what once was. there would always be a trace of a habit that you haven’t exactly picked up. picking a hang nail, being overtly jumpier than usual, nearly kicking over a coworker behind you, a muscle jerk here and there (which you always traced up to nerves, except your arm jerked once while you were brushing your teeth and toothpaste smeared over your cheek).

and now this.

you were never afraid of thunderstorms. so you didn’t understand why your hands couldn’t stop shaking. why there were an overwhelming instinct screaming at you to find somewhere safe.

hide. hide. hide. find cover. somewhere safe. oh my GOD run, your body tells you, your muscles unnaturally tense.

like any good ole’ fashioned college student, you decided to lock yourself in your restroom.

this apartment bathroom was no bigger than a shoebox, but it was in way better condition than the old ones you’ve encountered. the mirrors were polished, toilet was clean, counters wiped white to strip mold, and the bathroom curtains hadn’t broke. hell, even the shower floors were extremely clean.

you tried to look at your—her reflection.

you ran a hand through your tousled hair. you had a similar cut compared to hers. medium, almost to both of your shoulders. dark brown, sleek, and somewhat thin. then came your body type — unsurprisingly muscular and toned underneath the uniform due to her job.

you stared, startled by what stares back at you in turn. what once was smooth coffee brown, now held specks of molten fire bleeding around oak.

you gingerly touch the skin underneath your eyes. great. another reminder about how much your body wasn’t yours.

sighing deeply, you rub your eyes with your palm and lean over the sink. fuck. were there a pair of gloves and some bleach you could use to clean the bathroom up? you might as well since this wasnt exactly your home.

you lean down to open the cabinet.

“you don’t sleep in the mornings, and you don’t sleep at nights either. you have more energy than i do, sweetie.”

you whirl around, about ready to throw a punch until a pair of red eyes stare down at you.

sylus?

“what the hell are you doing here?” you blurt out, eyes wide.

sylus gives you a dry look over his reading glasses, effortlessly spinning a ball pen around his fingers while leaning against the door frame. “you forgot that you gave me the keys, kitten?”

you roll your eyes, sighing. “you came in here without even telling me.”

“it’s more fun when you’re encountered with surprises. but cleaning? on such a lovely night?” sylus clicks his tongue, tilting his head.

the counter feels cool against your fingertips when you lean over, moving the items on the counter down towards the floor. you don’t even look at his reflection, even if you feel like your cheeks were burning. “yeah, yeah. not everyone pays someone to do it like you do.”

“on the contrary, there are things i prefer to do myself, sweetie.” drawls sylus, picking out dirt from his nails with a small, hearty chuckle. “like visiting you for example.”

you turn your face away, very deliberately hiding the heat threatening to build up to your cheeks.

it was very hard to shake his gaze off you at that moment. his eyes bore into your form like a laser pointed at your head, a target.

you shifted, rolling your shoulder blades back. “whatever. why are you here?”

sylus averts his gaze and pauses for a moment. “well, it seems like a certain kitten forgot to answer my texts. seems like she’s gone to places even i can’t come to. i was wondering if she had to hide to lick her wounds.”

your mouth goes dry, lips twisting from the implications of it.

“sylus, i—”

“come.” sylus gestures, crooking his hand as he straightens up.

silence fills the cold night sky, only your breaths creating condensation into the air. you took your place at the rooftop, watching fog cloak the N109 zone in its embrace. it never left the N109’s zones side, not even once. even if tall sky scrapers below you occasionally peeked out, the fog would smooth it over.

your hands twitch on the rails you were holding, thumb running over the cold metal.

maybe you should’ve known better than to accept his request immediately. a frown threatens to grow on your lips as you squinted. the city lights were no better than fireflies from where you and sylus were at, but they were still so bright at such a close proximity despite the N109 zone being so foggy.

you grimaced at the sudden change of light, holding up a hand in attempt to ease your sight.

sylus took you here — more or less as a distraction. both of you had climbed an abandoned sky scraper just to watch the city uptop from here, streaks of painted graffiti and some rust coming off from your calloused hands.

“you’ve never been so sensitive to light before.”

you slowly turn your head to see sylus flipping a coin nonchalantly. he stands right next to you, his demeanor an open sort of playful nonchalance. he lazily traces the coin’s patterns in his fingers, red irises flicking to your expression.

he wore such a casual outfit; a graffiti’d leather jacket with a dark low cut v-neck underneath, exposing his cleavage, ripped jeans, and chains strapped in a half-loops to accessorize his look. on top of this, he wore a choker with a small buckle to accessorize his look.

you’ve never seen him wear anything akin to streetwear before. it almost throws you offtrack until you remember how oddly on-brand it was for him despite his practiced elegance.

you open your mouth, then close it. you side-eye him. “and what about it?”

sylus shrugs. “it’s interesting,” he drawls, his gaze lingering. “i wonder if the N109 zone has truly changed you all that much.”

you keep your face composed, instead looking at him as if he said something so incredulous and on point. “i’m going to need you to legally shut up for five minutes.”

sylus smiles. “you know the law has never applied to me, sweetie.”

fuck this guy.

you launch up in your attempt to strangle him, staggering up to reach his height. sylus allows himself to bend back quite a bit, going along with your attempts with a hearty laugh rumbling through his chest.

“you've got to try harder to catch your prey."

"shut up!" you, with a stroke of luck, deliver a solid smack square on his chest.

unfazed (much to your frustration), sylus leans back and raises both brows. he gives you this look — him tilting his head back, red eyes glinting with undeniable mischief. “make me.”

so you do.

you leap up to smother his mouth with your palm, which, unbeknownst to you, was bait because he hoists you up by your waist effortlessly, keeping you levelled with his head. your bodies press against each other for the first time in a long while.

sylus reaches up with his other hand to gently pry your hand away from his mouth. he captures it, intertwining his fingers over yours with an amused glint in his eyes. “oh? you’ve gotten bold. after depriving me, here i thought you were avoiding me.”

ah.

“i’m… not avoiding you.” you pause, trying to scramble for the words to articulate your loss of reaction. “it’s just— when we had that conversation before, i just didn’t know how to… process everything. i’m—i thought you didn’t want me around because of…”

you gesture uselessly to your body, then your brain. “this body still isn’t… ”

sylus levels with you eye-to-eye. his voice, usually so sure and filled with confidence, softens. “silly thing. i told you, i would get to know you again. didn’t i?”

“it’s.. it's not me though.”

“then we’ll make it yours again.”

sylus was not unfamiliar with change— of feeling out of place in one's own body.

a millennia of different lifetimes. centuries of different births in different circumstances. each time, viewed as an other. an outcast. a monster.

he's long since met peace with it.

the thing about him —ever since you became a shadow of the young woman who owned this body, until you were born into consciousness— was that he was perceived as cruel and dangerous.

perhaps, in many ways, he is. perhaps he was tired too.

he never attempted to hide that, and had unapologetically put it all out in the open. he had even done so much to emphasize this. to warn you to what you were getting into.

“my “business“ isn't what normal people imagine it to be. so taking someone who's not used to my way of life is like carrying a firearm that doesn't fit in your hand. It can be a liability,” he had said once. sylus did not even look at miss hunter when he said this, polishing his firearm with the finesse of experience.

you had just glared at him, as stubborn as you'll ever be.

he wasn't worried. you would catch up soon to him.

“allow me to jog your memory. from your past to your future... to even all the crimes you'll inevitably commit. after all, you and I... we're the same. true kindred spirits."

perhaps that was why it was so easy for him to help you with this matter. and perhaps that was why you opened up to him about feeling so out of place — a little more quickly than he's used to.

your body could change. your mind could change. your soul, however...

always so consistent, he thinks as he watches you turn around to asses the outfit he picked for you -- a fur coat reaching down to your thigh with leopard patterns inside, a black lace-shirt inside, fur-lined shorts with fishnets to hug your bare skin.

you've long since styled your hair differently too — if only to fit your face better.

after a while, your eyes previously flashing with surprise with his choice, had gleamed in approval.

he sighs through his nose, arms uncrossing when he props his chin over your head smugly. you grunt, attempting to look at him once he slings an arm over your shoulders.

to no avail, his chin stays propped on you.

"you're free to express yourself however you like, sweetie. if i'm able to correct how i'm perceived by others, including you, then you have no excuse." he murmurs into your ear, tightening his hold around you.

CURRENTLY PLAYING: Riptide - South Arcade

“You don’t have to do this. There is a—you’re asking for a melee match— you can sign up for the sparring lists. There are—”

Caleb rubs his face in exasperation. “I’m trying to figure out a way to say this. There’s going to be vicious nepo babies there, who are going to look at your face, and are going to see that you are a young, ticking time bomb. They’re going to see a bright fortune for themselves, taking your— there’s going to be a wooden bat to bash your head off your shoulders.”

“You don’t have to prove this. This is—I-I’m very proud of your ambition, but this is not—” He laughs, incredulous that he’s even saying this. “This is not an advisable thing to do. You should not be doing this for me. Not at my tier. Sign up for the sparring list instead. You’ll be fighting other people whose weight and height are about the same as yours. There are others—”

“I didn’t ask for your advice, Caleb.” I cut off steadily. “I have come here, to prove this for myself.” I emphasize, tapping the desk to add a punch to certain words.

Caleb’s words die in his tongue, wide eyes flashing with hurt.

Guilt pricks against my chest, but I continue. “Right, I—” I inhale, softening my tone despite the hackles raising in me. “I know who you are. I know the other kids are bullies. But I have— I have not had the opportunity to show people to fear my capabilities and respect my capabilities, not because of you, the golden child, but because of what I can do.”

There’s an astounding silence.

Caleb’s pained expression looked like he was kicked in the gut. As if he could barely process what I was saying. His lips twitch—whether it’s in spite or despite what I was saying, I did not know.

“…I just heard your little pipsqueak voice break a little bit on capability. I—I…”

His utterly lost eyes flicker over at Grandma Josephine. The old woman stares at him, hissing, “Caleb. Do this. Do not let your sister..!”

Something unreadable flickers across Caleb’s gaze, before it turns into something like a silent resignation. Like a flick of a switch, it was as if it was never there in the first place. He exhales through his nose deeply.

“…I’m not always going to be around to give advice. You made that clear.”

His usually lighthearted voice carries a bitterness hard not to recognize. Despite this, it surprised me to hear that he was very carefully choosing his words. “And… I am not.. I think.. the best teacher. I think sometimes life has a way of teaching us its most important lessons. So… have at it.”

Grandma Josephine’s voice objects sharply. “Caleb, I am not going to—”

“You heard him.” I counter, staring down at the both of them. As much as I seemed like a stubborn young girl to them, I couldn’t back down. This needed to be done.

Her livid gaze darts towards me sharply, eyes narrowing. “What did you say?”

I raise my brows and lift both of my hands, a sign of mock surrender. “It’s too late.”

Grandma Josephine stares at me. “Just where does one go for this melee?”

___

At the age of fifteen, it was a rash idea. But I managed to convince them both to let me fight for a hiring trial at a military academy.

Specifically, a Deepspace Hunter academy.

..It’s not the path I want to take. Nevertheless, I’m only there to make a point.

To Caleb and to myself.

Truthfully, I lied a little. I was partly doing this on Caleb’s behalf. The kid was in high school, about to graduate soon to the DAA academy in his last semester. As much as he had good intentions about being a source of comfort, a home, I needed to snip the very concept of complete reliance on him.

Mainly, this was for me. He had been a constant in my life, but I was mentally years older than him. As much as he was present and so unbelievably gifted, here was the truth.

He could not always be stable. He could not always be infallible either.

He could take it as rejection. He could develop resentment towards me. He could even be pissed off at me.

Yet.

I did not want to be some crappy adult who dumps the world’s problems on a kid’s shoulders, and then kicks back and relax in the peace their sacrifice creates.

As much as it sucks pushing him, this was the right choice. For the both of us. I needed to do this.

The school Caleb and I went to was prestigious in its own way. It was located in the hills, where well-off families lived at. The student population ranged from a mix of high-income families to middle-income families. It was primarily known for STEM, the very field Josephine came from.

Just as I managed to convinced the both of them to let me go fight, Caleb made a very strict condition.

He requested me to let him prepare me as best as possible. No if’s, and’s, or but’s. He would not go easy on me. He would teach me everything he knows under the span of seven months.

Naturally, I accepted. The bonus of it was getting my revenge on the bullies on campus. There were, of course, your typical bullies from school, but there were those who specifically targeted Caleb and I because of our background.

To them, we were poor brats. Bugs. An anomaly. A mistake.

Typical combination for those who are asshats and craved power. But that’s neither here nor there.

Since most signed up to be a hunter and/or law enforcement, it was a golden opportunity for me.

Caleb drove me to an empty clearing outside of a library, way out elsewhere beyond the city of Linkon. It was someplace north-west of Linkon where the rural farmers would harvest in rich soil far from the artificially cultivated greenery that our home county came from.

Here, nature was allowed to be wild. To be free.

A mix of gravel and sand greeted our feet when we walked. We stopped once we were close to a nearby hiking trail.

In the middle of the clearing, golden rays break through the tangled foliage.

“From now on,” Caleb began, turning around to look at me. “Throw out everything you learned from our teachers about general self-defense. Evol training. Everything. Get rid of all of it.”

He gestures to the Glock he held with him. “This? This is not your weapon.” A calloused hand pats hard against my sternum. Caught off-guard, I stumble back from the force. He gestures to my body. “That is your weapon. Your body is always your weapon.”

“If this,” Caleb raises the Glock, then points to me. “Can help that win, great.”

“If this can.” He points to my boot, and kicks my leg out so that my stance widens. I grunt, stumbling again.

“If these can,” After he does this, he holds up my chin. Caleb gestures to his index and pinky out, gesturing a jab at the eyes. “Great.”

Before I could even breathe, the teen ducks his head under my armpits and throws me off balance. I roll over his back with a hitch, back slammed against the ground. But not enough to injure. He grips the collar of my shirt, his purple gaze cold, calculated, and controlled.

“If you get knocked on the ground, ya gonna fight down here.” Caleb holds a handful of sand. “This in the eyes. Every. Time.”

He then clasps my hand, yanking me up. The other lets the sand fall out.

“Listen. If you throw sand in a round like this, the crowd will boo. And if you win, they will boo harder. And you’ll walk away a boo’d, but alive candidate.”

As he walks through it with me, it didn’t escape me. How he looked when I implemented his movement was one of bittersweet pride.

Maybe—maybe just that once, I wanted to address it like I usually did. I wanted to apologize.

But there was nothing to apologize for.

Because I will fight and I will win. ___

That day when trials came, I.. certainly made a name for myself. Crumpled up under the experience of elder classmen, I hate to admit both my body and ego was bruised.

I didn’t go as far as I wanted.

And I certainly did not come out unscathed.

“All available candidates will be notified three days from today whether they have been accepted,” announces the middle-aged lady in her hunter uniform, dark eyes peering towards the audience. “But higher-ups have notified the top three that proved remarkable raw skill today. Once you hear your name, please come up to the podium to get your letter.”

As the lady announces the top two to get on the stadium she’s on, she pauses once she gets to third place. She adjusts her glasses once she meets my eyes amongst the first few benches situated in the stadium.

I stare back, nursing an ice pack from the med bay. My face is.. swollen. Blood trickles down my nose. One of my back teeth is chipped, and my lips were cracked and bloodied.

Ah. Fuck this. I averted my eyes.

Her red lips twitch. “…For our third candidate, Yang [NAME]. Please receive your ticket.”

A mix of boos and a shocked silence come from the crowd. Including mine.

I.. did it.

To them, I was a nobody.

Because of all the dirty tricks I played, the crowd truly weren’t expecting me to still be viable. From grabbing people’s hair to an elbow to the face— by the time I stood on the podium, I looked out among the multitude, feeling absolutely nothing but vindicated.

I made my point to Caleb. That was what mattered.

As I take the letter she offers, a flash of bright light catches my eye.

Only one voice in the crowd cheered like his life depended on it.

“THAT’S MY GIRL!” A familiar voice booms at the top of his lungs. “THIRD PLACE!! ATTA’ GIRL!! GIVE HER THE TICKET!!”

I freeze. My attention snaps towards the source.

In the far out distance, his figure was undeniable. Tall, muscular, and honeyed skin. A dark DAA jacket outlined in dark blues and oranges. A black baseball cap and a surgical mask covered most of his features, but..

Was… that Caleb..?

Caleb waves at me, gesturing me to look up at ‘first place’. He even tucks down his mask enough for me to catch him mouthing, ‘Look at first place.’

It snaps me from my apathy.

My eyes, wide as saucers, slowly wander towards first place. His eye completely sealed with blood coursing into it, from a cut brow with the sharp edges of my nails ripping it open. Above him, I saw his ID showing his age: a twenty-two year old.

And then it hits me.

Oh. Right. I’m about to turn sixteen. ___

“At the end of the day, it’s never about the numbers.” Grandma Josephine had said one day, pointing at my chest. “This is always a greater battle to fight. Always, we strive for more.”

___

Walking into the doctor’s room, Caleb holds a bag of my chipped tooth from the arena. He leans close to mutters something to the nurse, giving away the bag. I barely register what he says before his arm wraps around my waist, hoisting me up as I hobble ontop of the medical table.

“Hey.” He finally says after a long period of silence.

“Hey yourself.” I croak, still holding the long melted ice-pack against my cheek. “I thought you would leave early.”

Caleb just laughs, uncomfortably caught. “..Well, you thought wrong, pips. I..” He lowers himself down to my height, wrapping a hand around mines. “I.. hate the idea of you doing this. I hate it even more that you’ve ended up here.” He admits, pursing his lips. “This was a really stupid idea.”

My lips twitch humorlessly. “I know.”

“You’re extremely reckless.”

“I know.”

“And brash.”

“I know.”

He shakes his head, running a tongue over his bottom lip. Caleb contemplates for a bit, before something resolves inside of him.

His purple gaze locks into mine.

With one finger, he pulls his cheek back to show a split tooth in the back. The same spot I got mines chipped away.

> LOADING . . . ENTRIES SHIFTED. > LOAD? [Y/N] >Y > PROCESSING . . . 100%.  

___

It was Caleb who noticed it first.

The difference in your posture, stance, shape. There was a sudden change in your eyes — eerie and unblinking. Its as if a bright knife cut through a fog in your brain, eyes unwavering with the adults in that room. You watched everything, everyone. Some kind of careful awareness followed you wherever you went, a hypervigilence tensing your muscles.

Gone was the simple-minded, quiet, and timid young girl he once knew.

You, later on, took the form of something different.

He didn’t know if it came from the multitudes of experiments your body took.

Something broke. Something strange, stranger than he could anticipated, emerged. It’s as if you wore a shell of yourself.

You used tears to your advantange. You threw tantrums in the form of rebellion, each and every time. You were deliberate when you were clumsy. In the time you let Caleb take charge of the situation, he noticed how oddly quiet you became.

When he wiped your tears and grasped at your arms to make sure you were okay, you stopped crying completely. As if it was a flick of a switch, your expression morphed from pitiful, childish sniffles to deliberate calm. You furrow your brows, squeezing his hand back.

“Forget about me. Are you okay?”

Caleb stared, reassurance dying midway across his tongue.

(He learned this from you, later down in his life when he broke too.)

You reminded him of a chrome mirror wrap.

They’re used to customize a car’s appearance, but it’s all to protect the original paint from scatches, UV rays, and debris. With a chrome mirror wrap, it’s all meant to cover the car underneath it.

He.. wasn’t sure how much of it was a good thing. Caleb knew that he himself had no room to talk considering his own records with his psychological assessments. With a grandma who took part in killing you multiple times living under the same roof, it was hard not to be affected.

Still.

Caleb supposed there was a double-edged sword to it considering you scored less than average in yours too.

You, who took his side no matter what. You, who unconsciously lifted some burdens from his chest. You, who grew fangs and teeth so you could keep an eye on him.

He knew that he wasn’t needed. He always knew.

It was selfish of him, he knew. To need to feel like he was needed. To see that you were also killing on the inside.

It showed that he could be of use, if only for a little bit. It humanized you, made you feel like an actual person who wasn’t too far away to reach. If you struggled too, then maybe, just maybe there’s a chance he could find the fault lines behind that mirror-wrap few would see.  

After all, there were some things Caleb was better at compared to you. Like being tall. Or having to grab the bowl above three feet above you after purposefully setting it there the day before. Maybe you needed muscle for groceries for the days you were too sore to move from practice. Or a cook for a homemade meal in times you were sick.

It stings. It fucking stings to feel like you were so out of reach sometimes. A part of him fears you’ll be too far too reach soon. You’d grow further, further away.

Would you grow out of him too?

At the end of the day, you proved your point. Through blood, sweat, and tears, you did.

Even though these moments were fleeting, he’d take what he could get. ___

[ NEUROPLASTIC TRIO ]

[ 9:15 P.M ]

kronosh1ft: i'm so tired.

kronosh1ft: i uh. i think i’m going to lie here on the floor for a while

jur@ssicbugs: :( yesterday really knocked you out, huh

jur@ssicbugs: at this state you’re really going to pass out on the floor :/

jur@ssicbugs: how long is ‘a while’ ?

kronosh1ft: until i start growing fungus

kronosh1ft: six feet under ground

ice spice: This sounds less than ideal, to say the least.

ice spice: Did the Hunter’s trial exam already come around yesterday? I didn’t get to see it.

jur@ssicbugs: [ sent a screenshot ]

jur@ssicbugs: it did already, hahaha. but a certain someone didn’t notify us and make a big deal out of it.

kronosh1ft: .

ice spice: … I see.

ice spice: That’s quite the bad habit. Even my relatively low-profile coworkers would at least notify those closest to them about something as big as this.

ice spice: When is the date to get accepted to the Hunter’s Association?

kronosh1ft: three days from now i think

kronosh1ft: i got my ass beat but i SERVED okay

jur@ssicbugs: yeah okay, you made your point and all.

jur@ssicbugs: blah blah blah

jur@ssicbugs: since I’m so so nice to you, this is the last time I’ll cover for you next time you pull this y’know.

kronosh1ft: you are the bane to my existence

jur@ssicbugs: :O

jur@ssicbugs: :(

jur@ssicbugs: my heart is in so much pain rn.

ice spice: Both of you are so dramatic..

ice spice: It’s good to see that our potentially to-be hunter especially came out in one piece.

jur@ssicbugs: I was the trainer. of course they’ll come out of it in one piece. :)

kronosh1ft: 👎🏻boooo the pride reeks from here

jur@ssicbugs: you’re so mean :(

jur@ssicbugs: do you see what I have to put up with, Z?

ice spice: I suppose that’s to be expected.

ice spice: After all, we’re talking to a fossil incarnate. They probably need a nap considering they’re sleep-deprived and cranky.

ice spice: The only thing left for them to do is to whack others with a cane.

kronosh1ft: ZAYNE /???

jur@ssicbugs: :O !!

jur@ssicbugs: Z, have I mentioned how much I love and appreciate you? <3

ice spice: No need. I see enough in my Moments DMs.

ice spice: That being said, I can’t be on here for too long. I’m about to finish wrapping up my break. It’s good to be able to catch up here and there.

ice spice: Probably will have to leave now.

kronosh1ft: o7

kronosh1ft: im bout to pass tf out too, dw

kronosh1ft: it’s great to see you again too zayne

jur@ssicbugs: yeah, even though it’s short-lived..

jur@ssicbugs: it’s good to be able to reach you here and there again. :)

ice spice: Likewise.

ice spice: Good night, everyone.

jur@ssicbugs: g’night!

kronosh1ft: night night 🌙

_____

a/n: this has strangely become caleb oriented and the pacing is wonky. i'm not going to lie, i kind of hated releasing this chapter. everything feels so choppy and erratic, but one could argue that everybody is sort of taken aback by the changes happening so quick in this universe. still, i promise things will start to connect together like little puzzle pieces later on once i actually get things up and running. additionally, i'd really like to focus on the mundane that we've been accustomed to before things kick into gear.

everything that took place is set before the main story + anecdotes of the other LIs, so i hope you don't mind me taking some creative liberties.

thank you for reading~

Currently playing: Inquiry by HI-T3C  __

LOADING . . . ENTRIES FROM 2020 FOUND. > LOAD? [Y/N] >Y > PROCESSING . . . 100%.

___ Josephine and the absolute notion of kindness are not two words that merge together well.

She, a woman of progress, lived for antiseptic — for metal. For machinery and the transformation of weak, flawed flesh. Of what was expected of her is progress, of prototists, and of ventures beyond what useless social ethics would give to society.

Progress. Perfection. Pursuing a better society. For many such pioneers, these changes weren’t welcome until later on.

With this logic, altruism does not get you far in this line of work. She did not earn the position she was in by being nice.

She had done unspeakable things in the name of progress. She had played a hand in killing Unicorn several times before she revived. Each time, she restrained Unicorn from thrashing; she gagged her from wailing, held her down with her entire weight to stop her from eloping out.

The blood tarnished on her hands? The number of times she was bitten, clawed, and met with shrieks of betrayal? She lost count a long time ago. But humanity would thank her later for it. Better to ask for forgiveness than to seek permission.

In Gaia, there were niceties and structure, never sheer kindness from the heart. It would (and always) be strategic.

"Subject recently revived. Seems like its consciousness has been altered. Ms. Josephine, you may enter the room. Familiarize the subject with the Grass room until further notice. Engage with caution." Her peers instruct, eyeing Unicorn closely behind mirrored glass.

“Acknowledged and received. Entering the room now.” Josephine murmurs into the microphone.

She twists the knob to the laboratory, and musters the warmest smile she could muster. Brushing away the wrinkles on her long skirt, white light overtakes her vision as always.

Josephine was expecting questions, confusion, muted expressions and shy responses. Unicorn’s body language would always curl in itself, regarding the adults above with wide eyes. It would always give her something along the lines of these.

There was no reason to expect anything more.

The elder woman squints, barely able to make out a small silhouette letting go of her restraints. It takes her a moment or two to adjust, letting out a sigh of relief when she finds a curled-up Unicorn. Her gaze eventually adjusts to her, and she forces her features to soften.

“I’m Ms. Josephine,” she says gingerly. “I’m here to take care of you for now.”

Silence. No, ‘Where am I? Who are you? What happened?’

When Unicorn stops ducking its head to look at her— and really looks her straight in the eye— it’s steady. Practiced. The subject looks as if it’s quietly gauging her, sizing her up, reserved and unreadable. Its round features, for a moment, sharpened. A miniscule difference.

For a split second, Josephine falters. Then, she regathers her bearings. “Do you know where you are?”

“No.” What a curt answer.

“You’re in Gaia Research Center.” Josephine holds two fingers. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Two.”

“Good. How many am I holding up now?”

“Four.”

Josephine hums. Good, its cognition was in-tact. “Do you remember your name?”

“...No.” Unicorn purses its lips, quietly replying with a, “Just what I’m referred to by the grown-ups. Unicorn.”

That was the first sign Josephine should’ve seen coming.

Though not uncommon for a phenomenon to have something as small as personality changes, Josephine, a woman of science, could swear something was off. This wasn’t quite.. Unicorn. Something that wasn’t quite dead, but not living either. If she hadn't known better, the subtle shift in mannerisms translated to a different entity. It’s as if the previous host within it had died that day.

Its footsteps were barely there. it left no traces of where it was if not for the cameras monitoring. Anytime it was presented an experiment with problem-solving, deducting, social recognition or organization, it passed those tests effortlessly.

Grace, kinetic-memory, and organization were scored above average. No matter how uncooperative it became, how.. utterly unpleasant it had been at first, to even come in contact with this creature.

Unicorn would resist. It would not comply. Not a single budge.

It would bite, claw, throw tantrums, and calculate when was the best time to interrupt the experiments with ‘bathroom breaks’. She would immediately lunge towards her peers with calculated distance, swinging at their face. Biting off a finger. Breaking a nose, shin, toe, whatever she could get her hands on. It was as if she became a cornered animal, bearing her teeth whenever they got too close.

“Get away from me.” A low hiss resounds across the glass.

The creature's hair is a disarray, patient gown splattered with a familiar crimson. No evol involved, just little hands yanking hair and hurling a grown man’s head against the glass as it scrambles to the nearest corner. She curls up, eyes wide with fear and wild rage.

“I don’t like when people get their dirty hands on me or Caleb,” It seethes.

A harsh KRACK against the mirrored glass. A shriek.

Dimitri barks, “I should’ve purged you to begin with! You shouldn't have even existed!”

“It takes one to know one, you fucking freak! “

This grown man, twice as big as this thin little girl, lunges at this little thing no younger than the age of six.

Josephine was willing to bet Unicorn’s shrieks could be heard from a hall away before blunt canines sink down, down to the bone of his forearm. The elder woman does not wince—could not wince. She instead presses her lips into a thin line as she watches behind the glass.

So tasteless. So bloody.

A minor nuisance, perhaps, but not unworkable. They could just ‘restart her’, Dimitri suggested.

Brutal, but not out of the ordinary, everyone agreed. It would be a last resort if she got violent, and she had been so multiple times before. Hell, Josephine herself would just chalk it up to the body remembering trauma.

Yet.

When Unicorn's wild eyes glances directly at the mirrored glass the second Dimitiri approaches, Josephine would never admit to the chill running down her spine. She’d seen many gruesome things before, but this..

Ugly, feral, unrestrained bloodlust and defensiveness storms behind dark eyes harboring an abyss. It knew nothing but to tear things apart. Even as Dimitri escapes with an inch of his life, the creature would not let him go. It kept him pinned down, swinging at him over and over and over—

This small little thing with blood caked under its long nails, splatters of gore on its otherwise white patient gown, matted dark hair, and dark eyes that knew nothing but a feral wildness. It navigated through each of his struggles with a grapple. Its form should’ve had broken bones under him, but instead it had its legs wrapped around his waist. A clank of a firearm long disabled, and pale arms gripping his neck into a headlock. A chokehold grapple, akin to a snake.

Naming it Unicorn was a mistake, Josephine thinks. It should’ve been named after an alias related to war.

She had half the mind to think Dimitri was right. This was a monster in the making. And she watches, watches as Unicorn slowly turns from such prized creature distorting into a defensive prey, shrinking into a corner. 

The wrecked heartrate monitor did not need to operate for Josephine to guess the state of her heart.

She did not need the data to see the aether-core in her chest—amber and deep scarlet— rapidly beating with her heart.

She did not need data alone, to see with her own eyes, Unicorn’s veins lighting up into gold webbings tattooed on every ounce of her body. The creature's eyes weren't brown, weren't yellow, they were the color of a flame at its hottest color. Her surroundings turned into an undecipherable splatter of red, white, pink, yellows, and blues. Its full-body tremors mirrored the fractured state surrounding its little bubble; fragile, shredded, sharp, and broken.

First came the ringing.

Then a large boom shatters every ounce of her surroundings. It devastates the ground, monitors, machinery, props, everything.

Dimitri crawled out of there the last second. It later took a six-month surgery to get him back standing.

Josephine forces herself to look away. She wishes she didn’t. Even if she can never repair her vision to what it once was from that day.

As if violence heralded this new persona, an earthquake shudders the entire facility. Outside, blue skies turned a bloody crimson, and a hole rips where the sun should've been. 

> TRANSPORTING BACK TO REALITY . . . PLEASE REORIENT YOURSELF.

A BANG! rattles across my skull and feet. Instincts possess my every move when I drop to the asphalt on the second floor. My hands struggle to wrap around the rails while I wheeze, bending down to catch my breath.

One minute I’m trying to get groceries, the next I’m scrambling away from a fucking bird-like creature who’s paying to no mind to me, and a nine-foot something moose having a goddamn death match in the middle of the route I’m taking.

Maybe I should’ve remembered to take my phone.

Maybe I should’ve stayed on the path.

Maybe I should’ve listened.

I’m trying to regain my footing, narrowly dodging the impact of rushing gales. My sleeves are torn from how my nails dug in deeply out of adrenaline. My hands are shaking as I clutch my groceries to my chest.

The outdoor mall was notoriously known for how often these wanderers dispersed here. It’s a hunting zone for Hunters, except none of them seem to be patrolling the area I’m in right now. Idiot me probably stumbled into a no-hunt zone when there were no labels but wraps of caution tape. I just so happened to climb a scissor platform because I wanted to take a picture of the view with the polaroid in my pocket.

It was supposed to be a short cut. Supposedly.

SCRREEEEAAACCCHH

Liquid heat runs down from my ears. Shaky fingers delicately touch my neck, and I stare numbly at the crimson staining my fingernails. I can’t register what exactly is bleeding when they screech again, a sickening KRRRRAK echoing the forest area.

I cover my ear the best I can, flinching from the screeches of wounded animal-like wanderers battling for each other’s territory. Eyes squeeze shut as my limbs stiffen in place, freezing behind the rusted rails I climbed onto. A tight sensation gathers in my chest, recoiling from the vibrations that these creatures caused from their damage. A burning, stinging impression claws deep in my chest.

God, I was so stupid. I need to move, god-fucking-damn it. Get it together. 

I disregard my hands shaking in favor of focusing on my breath.

Inhale, 1, 2, 3, 4.

Hold, 1, 2, 3, 4.

Exhale, 1, 2, 3, 4.

Nails scrabble across the ground as I drag myself to look at the first floor below. Once upon a time, in my previous life, I wouldn’t have cared. I would’ve jumped. . . .

Twice upon a time, cold wind brushed through my bangs. It nips at my nose as I take a deep inhale in, then out. I never could shake away how my hands would clutch onto metal bars and rails. My forearms flex as I jump up to the nearest bar above me, feet dangling mid-air.

It was freeing. Liberating.

My step-father would always say to me that to feel that burn near my shoulder blades meant that I was alive.*

I ducked my head, admiring how these once gimongous pine trees were only bushes from here. They would stop where the ramps were located at; which is what I would call ‘the hills’. The hills rolled into bigger mountains, from gradient of dead beige and occasional dried yellow patches to lush, dark greens. What took up a majority of the land were grey roads streaking across the hills, rails scarcely guarding the multitudes of vehicles scarcely elevating up the rounded ramps.

Hanging from the tower I climbed, I watched bright lights streak across the freeway. The state route 60 would always be filled to the brim with drivers going to and fro, disappearing in the fog or steering to the cement ramps connecting to the i-10 freeway.

If I had to estimate how high I was, it’d probably be 250 ft. My heartbeat pounded in my ears from the realization as I blew through a shaky exhale.

It’s really foggy out. Sometimes I’d inhale the gasoline, sometimes it smelled like petrichor.

My feet found security onto a bar, perching onto the crevice while I just hung there. Time would stop then, and I could breathe.

If I jumped, maybe I could rest. . . .

Rubble flies from the large creatures crashing into ruined billboards, craters of rubble, broken metal, and bent pieces of tin decorating their every move.

The moose writhes, hooves beating against the ground as it *screams* from having its throat pecked and ripped out. Its moving his head erratically, antlers trying to pierce the bird in its scuffle against each other. the bird-like creature ripping off what I assumed to be a tendon from the moose’s neck. The moose, on the other hand, was helpless in its pain-filled struggle.

Hollow metal underneath rattle, threatening to topple over from the sheer destruction these two creatures were making. If the moose came closer enough, one wrong shake of its antlers would hurl me to the ground.

I inhale a shuddering breath.

There were three things I could either do at this moment:

A.) Be a sitting duck and pray to whatever entity.

B.) Take a gamble in acting on that impulse and jump. If I was lucky enough, I could ease the momentum with a shoulder roll.

It’s not impossible, I reasoned with myself. Inhaling shakily, I look at the forest floor below. I’m not a hunter. I don’t have combat abilities by any means yet. But I had a ton of adrenaline and I could run really fast.. right?

Adrenaline, a very familiar visit to me that might as well be my kin. It creates a buzz in my ear; wild and barely constrained. Calloused fingers in front of me was shaking, partly from fear, partly from the anticipation of what I could do.

For a moment, I entertain the thought. It was stupid, and admittedly, a dumb fourteen year-old girl would have the intelligence to think this was a horrible idea.

I could kill them.

I could self-destruct and just.. kaboom. If I was crazy enough. If I didn’t care enough.

How would that feel?

Having an aether-core in my heart, I’ve probably exploded before in one of my deaths. I could just do it again, forget everything, wake up here and ask Caleb what timeline I was in.

Except this time, I cared. I cared about *not* adding to burdens he was already carrying.

Think of it like this: if you were holding a nuclear *bomb* that you harbored inside your chest, with the ability to detonate it at any moment if you went overkill, would you Russian roulette your chances to kill the both of them?

The sane answer is absolutely not. That’s why the Hunters Association was there to begin with.

The problem is that they weren’t exactly on the phone right now.

A shiver from the platform I stood on seemed to agree with this, a rusted crrreak from the support bar adding to its case. As hooves rapidly approach where I'm at, a shrill and deafening screech from the wanderer resounds the air. It smacks itself onto the dead trees right next to the platform I was at. Any inch more, and it’d hurl itself towards the base.

I'm really, really not in the position to be picky now. 

One. I position myself close to the rails.

Two. My feet secures itself onto the ledge.

Three. I struggle to maintain balance, but my hands clutch orange rails.

Four. I jump.

Air rushes through my form as my body braces for the impact of the ground. My lungs are burning. My legs are aching. A harsh, loud grunt escapes, and I barely have time to blink when the sheer impact is felt in every inch of my legs. Whiplash smacks my head as my teeth rattle against my skull. I barely stabilized the fall with my palms when, in a split second, I’m rolling through uneven forest ground so fast I don’t even process it.

Once, I would’ve loved the vegetation that covered this spot everywhere. I rarely got to see forests, where I lived. It was all just deadlands and roads where I lived.

One blink and the next; my fingers dig the dirt. Shocks of pain split my legs. Ragged breaths turn to wheezes as I try finding purchase from the grass on forest floor. My landing isn’t perfect by any means; I vaguely register sliding instead of rolling, but I didn’t have the energy to care when I’m hitting the ground running.

Moss and grass squelch beneath my feet from stumbling my way into sprinting. Roots cover the entire area, canopy blanketing over the area. All the colors blurred in my vision, only showing shades of green and the occasional glimpse of golden sunlight hitting my face. Warmth greets my skin, but my cold, clammy palms would say otherwise. Everything felt cold.

My legs burn so bad. This slope I’m trudging through is so steep and slippery, it’s by sheer luck and a miracle that I haven’t scraped my knee yet.

I skid across the pavements, palms rubbed so raw it might as well be scrapes. Tearing through the tight forest area, a circular opening awaited me in front. Yellow caution tape everywhere. It’s just five foot away from me, and I was *so close*. I paid no attention to the tight ache around my calves from the exertion, ankles harboring a dull ache within my feet.

Behind me, I hear winds rushing narrowly through. A shrill screech—not from the moose anymore, but the bird-like wanderer.

Shit, shit, shit!

Before my hands could even graze the caution tape, I hear another rush of wind above me. When I dared crane my head, I could only see a white blur, beams of geometric patterns akin to lasers, and a sharp gleam of a sword whooshing through the air.

I’m seeing white suns.

For a moment, I could see this figure. Blue eyes. A silver masquerade mask. Silver, disheveled hair. A white uniform and a pale blue corset. A tassel adorn his ear. Pale skin.

My breath catches. I freeze. My blood runs cold. I know him. I know him.

The wanderer that originally soared behind me couldn’t even let out another screech before dispersing into particles of light.

Before I could register, my body is already moving as I vault through the caution tape. I’ve skidded through opening several times, falling to all fours to catch a breather. Gaze darting back and forth, I try to process if I just saw *Xavier* of all people as Lumiere.

A few minutes pass. The blur was nowhere to be seen.

A day passed since that incident.

After my conversation with Caleb, my workload began piling up a *lot.* It was really hard to process what has happened when there were so much obligations to fulfill. Homework, part-time, essays, research on EVER, the like.

One could really say, I did not, in fact, rely on Caleb more.

Life had been pulling me away from him for quite some time now. Whether it was schoolwork, housework, clubs, odd jobs, or errands from Ms. Josephine, I was being tugged in different directions all at the same time. So all I could really do at that time, when I got home, was collapse on my bed and pass out.

Currently propped onto my bed, I stare blankly at the scabs on my palms. Then, I pick up the note I found in my pocket from that day. Paper scrunches underneath my fingers when I pick it up as I read through it for the tenth time in the row.

‘Never do that again.*’ The first word in the note was underlined a few times, circle, and bolded. Seems like the writer of this note really wanted to emphasize the first word as much as they could. 

I grimace.

First time meeting Xavier (or in this case, Lumiere), and I’ve probably pissed him off.

“What’cha lookin’ at?”

Very slowly, I turn my head. Blinking at the figure standing on my doorway, Caleb has a bag of chips on his left hand, chopsticks on his right, and his phone... floating above him. Right next to him is a boy a head taller than him. Dark hair, glasses, sharp hazel eyes, and round features that’ll eventually sharpen with age.

Ah, a frequent visitor. Zayne. More Caleb’s friend than mines, but we’ve managed to get along so well considering our personalities were pretty similar.

Flickering my gaze to Caleb, envy gnaws at the back of my mind right then and there. Why can’t *I* do that?

I gesture uselessly. “I made an old man angry.”

Zayne lifts a brow, gesturing me to give the note. I comply. When he reads through it, he slowly shifts his attention towards me, and lets out the deepest sigh I’ve ever heard leave his lips.

“What did you do this time?”

“Trespassed his lawn.”

His lips twitch. “And that’s all?”

“...Pretty much.”

Zayne shakes his head, returning the note back to me. “...Right. And outside, pigs are flying.” He says dryly, completely unconvinced. “Your grandma is ordering takeout. Is there anything you want right now?”

“...Szechuan noodles.”

“Drink?”

“Jasmine tea would be nice.”

“Grandpa.”

I flop on my belly and glare at Caleb. “I will stuff your mouth with tissues.”

The taller out of the both of us whirls around, slowly eats a chip, then deadpans, “Try me.”

Without a hitch, I let go of the sheets. Twisting my body to launch across the room, I prepare myself to meet Caleb’s body weight only for massive weight to slap my back full force. I faceplant on the floor with a loud thud.

Above, he snickers. Goddamn it, he abused his evol. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

“Your sister does have an outlet to put all of this energy to, no?”

“I’m right here!” I hiss, lifting my head.

Caleb shrugs. To add salt onto the wound, he sits on me. As in, he had the audacity to quite literally use my back as cushion to squish my entire being onto the floor. “She does, but even Taekwondo’s not enough.”

Air deflates from my lungs as I let out a wheeze. What has this old woman been feeding him? “Stop acting like gravity’s increasing on you!”

“It is too.”

“Is not!”

“Is too. Look, the same thing happened yesterday.” The bastard then displays a complete lack of fear as he dramatically flops his back on me. “Gravity’s increasing right now.”

The fact I’m still breathing is a goddamn Christmas miracle. I give a pleading look towards Zayne, but he just stays there. He leans on the headboard, watching this exchange with great amusement sparkling in his hazel eyes.

Oh! I think to myself, staring at him in disbelief. He's dead to me. Both of them are, actually. Irritated, I reach out to smack Caleb's back. “You rotten brother! Your butt is crushing me! Why do you act so weird?!” I breathe out, managing to painstakingly claw the floor. Hauling my body to twist us around, I move us an inch. Just one. Which was better than nothing.

“Children, what is going on?”

All three of our gazes snap towards Josephine.

“She’s doing push-ups—” “He’s bullying me!” Both Caleb and I speak at the same time as we point to each other, but Josephine just rubs her temples. She ignores the countless reasons we throw at her, her flat gaze directly falling on Zayne.

Zayne looks like a deer caught in headlights for a moment, then clear his throat. “Caleb’s making her do push-ups.”

If looks could kill, I’m mentally running this guy over with a truck. Him, and the smug looking Caleb above me. Multiple times.

Josephine sighs wearily, switching from Zayne to Caleb. “Be nice to your younger sibling. On that note, get off of her.”

Caleb, the giant that he already is, reluctantly stands up from his ‘seat’.

Glaring daggers at him, I push myself off the floor. Once I’m standing, I scrunch the note I received in my pocket as I scowl. I then jab at the both of them with my thumb, eyeing the two with annoyance. “Both of them are lying.”

“Uh-huh. I’ll hear your side of the story later.”

Later during the evening, Zayne and Caleb are both doing their own thing in the living room. A movie faintly plays in the background. I’m shifting in my seat at the kitchen, trying to get used to the bandages wrapped around my knee.

Sometimes it’s really easy to forget that I’m a person and not just some conscience floating around. Like I’m not a concept, and that I’m a real human being.

The same applies to Caleb. It’s really easy to forget that he was a video game character who was a love interest when he’s right there in front of me, laying down on the couch while scrolling away on his phone.

If I glanced across, I could see every detail right in front of me. Every pore, every mole, every twitch. His purple irises remain fixed on the console above him, nothing but the sounds of joystick rattling coming from the guy. His grey hoodie covers a quarter of his face, very rarely adjusting for me to see his full side-profile. Occasionally I could see a mole on his neck, nose, and ear if he tilted his head a specific way. His long lashes casts a shadow over his eyes. Brown hair stick everywhere, akin to a crazy bird’s nest thanks to it being tucked away under his hoodie for a quite a long time.

As for Zayne, he found it suitable to take a nap in this apartment out of all places. His glasses slid down his nose when exhaustion from finals lulled him in. Phone laid to the side, his arms crossed to himself, and brows relaxed.. I could've sworn this version of him was so vastly different from his stoic demeanor. Given that his inky black hair grew a little longer up to his eyes, the light casted a little backlight halo to him. His hair looked so sleek and healthy, I wondered if his parents probably were in their prime when they birthed him.

I don’t know what to think about that. It's still really surreal.

As for the note.. I open it, letting out a careful exhale through my nose. The words, never do it again greets my gaze, and my thumb grazes over the letters written.

Behind me, I hear faint footsteps. When I look up, I’m greeted with two steaming cups of hot ginger tea in Josephine’s wrinkled hand. She serves it to me in my favorite lavender mug, a wooden lid propped on top with a little cat as a handle.

“How are you feeling?” She asks gently, rubbing my back. “Scrapes feeling better?”

I nod slowly, crinkling the note in my palm. “It looks nasty. Like it’s gonna take a long time to heal.”

Josephine gives me a sympathetic look. “It... will. But you’re the type to heal rather fast compared to others.”

“Does this mean I have to take it easy with sports?”

“Unfortunately.”

Unpleasant annoyance curls in my gut. I furrow my brows, my grip on my mug tightening. Slowly taking a deep breath, I push an incoming itch down to sip my tea. “I wish I didn’t have such a hard fall the other day.”

The elder’s hand gently lays on top of mine. “I was about to ask what happened..”

“Track and field was brutal. It’s not the teacher’s fault though. It’s mine. I thought I could jump across two obstacles and overestimated myself,” I lied.

She shakes her head as if anticipating my answer. “You and your ambition.. you’re very pushy for such a young teen. You do know you’re above average in P.E scores, right?”

“I just wanted to see my limits..”

“You can’t do that when you risk your health.” Josephine’s lips straightens into a thin line. “Progress and perfection is overrated when you’re risking your wellbeing. Be so reckless again, and I’m not sure if you’ll see your pantry stock again.”

I sigh, shoulders slumping. “Okay.”

Setting her own mug aside, Josephine contemplates for a minute. Her fingers tap on the lip of the porcelain, attention adrift. “For this once, go grab some snacks from the cabinet. Take it easy.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And I mean it. Don’t injure yourself for the upcoming three days.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Her bony hand pats my head. When she ruffles my hair playfully, I try not to mind the long strands falling to my face especially as she pushes them behind my ear. I blow away some dark strands from my eyes, making a face. “Maybe if I cut my hair, I’ll also be prone to less accidents...?”

“Mm.. it’d be a shame. It’s the longest you’ve grown it out for a while,” Josephine muses, absent-mindedly slipping out a bobby-pin to clip my bangs from my face.

“I know.” I grimace. “I just... don’t feel like myself with long hair. It feels weird. It’s too high-maintenance.”

“Oh, you and your practicality...”

“Ugh.. I’m serious. I really want a haircut soon.”

“Didn’t Caleb used to cut your hair all the time? What happened to that?”

A pause. “He’s.. with his friends a lot, and he’s really busy with coursework.” Maybe a half-lie, but I was too busy thinking about meeting Lumiere to even mentally prepare socializing with him. I half-heartedly shrug. “I’d feel bad bothering him.”

Clicking her teeth, Josephine settles her mug down. “Ah... Entertain an old woman for a bit, will you? My two cents about this..” She sighs, meeting my gaze with her typical warmth seeping through her demeanor. “I’m not so sure if you’ll be bothering him. You both worry so much about bothering each other, but it’s not wrong to accept help from others once in a while. You’re so very headstrong, but even the most stubborn and successful people accepted help after a while.”

But could I? His attachment to me.. even after I tried to distance myself so he could live his own life... I sigh internally, absent-mindedly tracing the marble on the counter. “I’ll think about it.”

Josephine faintly smiles. “Then that’s all this little ole’ lady can ask for.”

Right between the edge of the doorway, a faint knock. Then Zayne peaks his bleary bedhead through. He stops, flicking his hazel eyes from me to the elder. “I’m sorry to interrupt. But Ms. Josephine, my parents asked if you wanted a souvenir from their trip.”

When the conversation inevitably drifts away to another topic, I grip the note in my pocket tightly. An indecipherable storm swirls inside of me, unable to fully settle down. My head thunks against the counter. Lumiere.. Xavier..

I can't help the nagging feeling telling me that I might be meeting Xavier sooner than I expected.

jurr@s!cbugs is online

jurr@s!cbugs is typing . . .

> caleb: awake? :0

kronosh1ft is online kronosh1ft is typing . . . > kronos: why,,,, r u texting me at 3am in the morning > kronos: don’t you have tennis practice at 6am......  

>caleb: I do but I got some things I gotta finish up for finals so don’t skip meals

>caleb: and no coffee after 4pm. I saw the cans you inhaled earlier this evening you’re too young to be drinking those. the coleum express won’t stop running >:(

  >kronos: yeah but what about the energy drinks you’ve been inhaling >kronos: are we just gonna skim over that or..

>caleb: uh nope this is not about me, this is about you! :) you’ll get a heartattack from overdosing on caffeine if you don’t watch it

>caleb: and your scrapes. those are still new, so this means if you sneak out tonight you’re dumb and very reckless

>kronos: . >kronos: i would,,, never,,,  

>caleb: Hmm okay

>caleb: btw those seemed like gashes more than scrapes :/ that cannot be from the obstacle course on track and field alone but obv I wont push it.

> caleb: anyway zaynie is gonna go abroad for a long time btw so granny wants us to be there when he goes

  > kronos: already?????? so soon.. felt like yesterday when he confessed that to us > kronos: but ok got it!  

>caleb: :)

>caleb: I’ll leave you alone now XD

>caleb: night pipsqueak 🫶🏽

>kronos: uh huh, gnight to you too sir nag-a-lot >kronos: 🌒  

 jurr@s!cbugs is offline

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