The school felt different the moment Ethan stepped through the doors that Monday morning. A thick fog draped over Bellingham, softening the edges of the old brick building and dulling the usual chaos of voices echoing through the halls. The air hung heavy with moisture, carrying the faint scent of rain-soaked earth, a quiet reminder of the drizzle that had plagued the town for days. Ethan's nerves buzzed, his senses sharper than ever since the ritual—every laugh, every locker slam, every rustle of paper crashed into him like a wave, overwhelming and unrelenting. Ryan Matthews was back today.
Ethan wasn't in the mood to face Ryan so early in the morning. If he could, he'd push their meeting to lunch or even after school, when the day's weight might feel less suffocating. If it weren't for his desperate need to understand these changes—changes Ryan might explain—he wouldn't even consider approaching him. The thought of that confrontation twisted his stomach into knots, a mix of dread and determination he couldn't shake.
As he trudged toward class, the polished floors reflecting the dim fluorescent lights, he spotted Jamie leaning against a locker. They exchanged a quick nod and fell into step together, heading to their first period. The silence between them was comfortable but tense, as if they both felt the same unspoken pressure. When they reached the classroom, Ethan's gaze darted to the back, where Ryan sat beside Frank. A small cluster of students hovered around them, their voices low as they offered condolences about Carter and Jaxson. Ethan's chest tightened. They don't know the truth, he thought, bitterness creeping in. He and Jamie claimed seats at the front, as far from Ryan as possible, and waited for the bell to ring.
Jamie didn't say a word about Ryan, and Ethan was grateful. It seemed Jamie shared his reluctance, a silent pact to avoid that mess for now. The classroom buzzed with pre-lesson chatter, but to Ethan, it was a grating symphony of noise that scraped against his heightened senses. He gripped the edge of his desk, willing the teacher to start and give him something else to focus on.
The morning dragged on with a deceptive normalcy—students scribbled notes, teachers droned through lessons, and the clock ticked toward freedom. By the time the lunch bell rang, he was more than ready for a break.
In the cafeteria, Ethan and Jamie sat with their trays, picking at their food as they scanned the room. The space hummed with life—laughter, clinking trays, the shuffle of feet—but Ethan's attention was elsewhere. "It seems Ryan and Frank aren't here," he said softly, his eyes sweeping the crowd. "And come to think of it, Oscar didn't come today. I wonder where he is."
A wave of relief washed over him at Oscar's absence. The memory of Oscar bursting through his door still clung to him like a shadow, vivid and unshakable. It wasn't just the splintered wood or the chaos—it was the helplessness, the cold realization of how close he'd come to death. Those weren't memories he could simply brush off, and the thought of facing Oscar again sent a shiver racing down his spine.
"It's unusual for them not to be here during lunch," Jamie said, frowning as he stabbed at a piece of chicken. "I wonder what they're up to."
"So, what are you going to do?" Jamie asked, his tone careful. "You gonna talk to him after school, or are you changing your plans?"
Ethan paused, chewing over his options. "Well, that's my plan right now, unless I go look for him now which i am not gonna do it's my only option" he said, though the idea of hunting Ryan down made his pulse quicken.
"I see. That's understandable," Jamie replied, his voice warm with empathy. "I really hope he'll give you the answers you need."
"Me too, bro. I really need to know." Ethan's words hung in the air, heavy with longing. Before they could dig deeper, Mia approached, her bright smile cutting through the tension like sunlight through fog. Jamie shot Ethan a mischievous grin, and Ethan's heart sank. Here we go.
"Hi, guys! How are you?" Mia asked, her voice cheerful as she slid into a seat across from them.
"We're fine, Mia, and you?" Ethan and Jamie answered in unison, their voices tripping over each other in a clumsy duet. Ethan winced inwardly at the awkwardness.
Mia laughed, her eyes crinkling with amusement. "That's good. So, what were you guys talking about?" she asked, her curiosity sparking.
Before Ethan could cobble together an excuse, Jamie jumped in. "We were talking about you. Ethan wanted to talk to you about something."
Ethan's breath caught, his mind screaming traitor as Jamie stood and bolted, leaving him stranded. But Jamie's move wasn't just a dodge—it was a push. He knew Ethan's powers had bolstered his confidence, yet asking Mia out still felt like scaling a mountain. With everything else—Ryan, the ritual, the uncertainty of what he was becoming—Jamie had handed him a lifeline, a chance to grasp at something normal.
Ethan swallowed hard, his palms clammy. "Mia," he began, his voice wavering, "I've been meaning to ask you something."
She tilted her head, her expression open and encouraging. "What is it, Ethan?"
He took a shaky breath, forcing himself to meet her gaze. "I was wondering if you'd like to go out with me this weekend. Just the two of us."
Mia's eyes widened, a playful smile across her face. "Are you asking me on a date, Ethan?"
"Yeah," he said, his nerves steadying as he held her stare. "I am."
Her grin widened, and she laughed a bit. "I'd love to. Saturday works for me."
"Saturday's perfect," Ethan replied, relief flooding through him like cool water. She said yes. "I'll text you the details."
"Great! I'll see you then," Mia said, standing with her tray. "Don't keep me waiting!" With that, she walked off, leaving Ethan dazed, a giddy mix of triumph and disbelief swirling in his chest.
Mia's POV
These past few weeks have been strange, and Ethan's been at the center of it. First, he suddenly developed this incredible physique, like he'd been hitting the gym for months overnight. Then there's the smell—sometimes he carries this faint whiff of smoke, as if he's been sitting by a fire, but no one else seems to notice. It's odd, unsettling even.
Last week, I caught these subtle signs he was struggling—nothing obvious, just little moments, like when he hesitated lifting his bag, as if testing its weight. I wonder what's going on with him. And now, out of nowhere, he's asked me on a date. Mayne I can finally figure out what is up with him. There's something about him, something different. Maybe this weekend will give me a chance to figure out what's up with Ethan, beyond the mystery he's become.