The usual morning rhythm was a comfort, but today, Aurex couldn't meet his parents' gaze across the breakfast table. His eyes were glued to his plate, a silent question echoing in his mind: Do I even like eggs and juice? Have I ever?
The walk to school with his little brother was, as always, punctuated by a cheerful goodbye. Aurex slipped into another day of mind-numbingly repetitive lessons. The teachers, with their ever-present smiles, rattled off the Ten Rules again, just like every other day. Nothing ever changed, and Aurex was starting to feel the strain.
Five days, he thought, the familiar ache of indecision settling in. Five days I've wanted to make a move, and every time, I freeze. He didn't even know what that first step would look like. Where would he go? What lay beyond the town? No one ever spoke of an outside world, and he wasn't even sure it existed. Still, he knew he couldn't stay like this forever. He was teetering on the edge.
His mind drifted to the cafeteria, to the boy with the striking red eyes , the only person who seemed even remotely different. Maybe he was the key. Maybe he could help. During break, eating alone, Aurex decided to write a note, a simple pretense of asking about his health. But the moment his pen touched the paper, a deep, primal warning shot through him: Don't. His heart hammered, palms slick with sweat. He froze, staring at the unwritten note, then slowly, carefully, tucked the paper away. He couldn't risk it. Not like that.
Then, a new idea sparked. The cafeteria dismissal was always so organized, so timed. Maybe he could catch the boy then, just for a fleeting second, when no one was watching. He could speak to him.
When the moment arrived, Aurex almost chickened out again. But then he saw the boy, moving towards the exit, alone. He took a deep breath, pasted a smile on his face, and walked forward. "Eyes wide open, meet me after class," he whispered, the words tumbling out before he could second-guess them. Then he turned and walked away before the boy could even respond.
The rest of the school day crawled by. When the final bell finally rang, Aurex was waiting, hidden behind the corner near the school gates. Doubt gnawed at him. Maybe he told on me. Maybe I'll be erased. But then, the boy appeared. His smile remained calm, his expression unreadable. He simply walked up and said, "Sit down."
They sat together behind the sheltering wall. "What do you want?" the boy asked, his voice even, his smile unwavering.
Aurex's mind raced, desperate for something small, something casual. "What do you mean when you say 'keep your eyes open' all the time?"
The boy chuckled, a short, dry sound. "It's just a thing I do."
Aurex frowned inwardly. Is he suspicious of me? Does he think I'm testing him? He tried again, more cautiously. "You know, in my house... we have a weird rule. We close all our doors at 6 p.m. No one leaves their room."
The boy's smile didn't waver, but his eyes did. They widened, just slightly, too wide, too fast. "I need to go," he said quickly, standing up.
"Wait," Aurex said, rising with him. "What-"
The boy turned. "And remember my weird habit. And be really careful." Then, he was gone.
Aurex stood there, heart pounding, trying to make sense of what had just happened. His mind replayed the exchange all the way home. His little brother walked beside him, oblivious, and their mother greeted them as always. They ate. They smiled. They recited the Rules.
At 6 p.m., Aurex retreated to his room. But tonight, something felt profoundly different. He sat at his desk, diary open, pen in hand, but couldn't write. His thoughts kept drifting, not just to the boy's cryptic words, but to that sound from the night before: the faint footsteps. He told himself to let it go. Just write. Just follow the routine. But his hand wouldn't move.
After several minutes of stillness, Aurex stood. His bare feet barely made a sound on the wooden floor as he moved slowly, carefully, to the corner where his bookshelf stood. Just beside it, hidden behind a curtain, was the small, shuttered window his parents had sealed years ago. He'd never touched it. Not once.
Heart pounding, he reached out and pressed his fingers against the frame. It didn't creak, not yet. He took his time, inching the shutter open just enough to let in a sliver of light, a narrow crack no wider than his finger. He knelt and pressed one eye to the gap.
At first, he saw nothing. Just the hallway outside his room. Dim light. Wooden floor. Shadows. Then, movement.
His mother passed by, smiling. Just walking, slow and blank-faced. Then his sister, carrying something. A cloth? No, it looked heavier. She moved down the hall and vanished into the kitchen. Aurex held his breath.
Then his father appeared. He wasn't reading his paper. He was still smiling. He just stood there, staring at a wall, as still as a statue. Then, without warning, he turned and walked back the way he came.
Aurex backed away from the hole, gently pressed the shutter closed, and returned to his desk. He sat there, frozen, the smile still plastered on his face, but something inside him irrevocably cracked.
They weren't just like him.
They weren't just scared.
They were doing something.
He didn't know what terrified him more: the thought that they were hiding something from him, or that they weren't hiding it at all. Maybe they thought he already knew. Maybe they thought he was just like them.
He picked up his pen. His hand trembled.