Subject: 012 - Jan 2116.
Wait, did he just say 004? No way. How's that even possible?
I've been here almost a whole year, and I've never seen or even heard about anyone with that number. And I would've definitely noticed someone like him if he'd been wandering around the main facility.
I'm still mid-thought when 004 says something that makes my brain completely short-circuit.
"So if you're 012, does that mean there are others here?"
I blink at him, a little thrown off."Oh, well… yeah! There have been a few of us. I think the last one to come in was 026."
He goes quiet for a second, looking deep in thought. There's this weird sadness in his eyes, and honestly, it kinda makes my chest tighten a little. Has he really not known there were others here? What did he think 004 meant?
"004, have you never left the segregation unit?" I ask softly.
He shifts in place, all stiff and uncomfortable, glancing toward the guards by the door. His body language screams I don't know what I'm allowed to say.
If he's been in here since near the beginning, since before the rest of us started showing up, then he probably has no idea what I'm talking about. He doesn't know what the facility looks like outside the segregation unit.
The thought makes my stomach twist. What kind of life is that, trapped in one space, with only the guards for company, never realising there are others just a few locked doors away?
I glance around the gym. The dull grey mats, the scuffed walls, the faint echo of our movement in the big, empty space. It's supposed to feel open, but somehow it doesn't. The air's too still, too watched. The cameras in the corners hum quietly, and the guards by the door barely blink.
004 stands near the centre of the room, shoulders tense, hands at his sides like he's not sure what to do with them. The way he looks at me, hesitant, uncertain, makes it obvious this isn't normal for him. Maybe it's the first time he's spoken to someone his age for such a long time.
I swallow hard, guilt pressing against my chest. The number given to him, 004, doesn't just mark who he is. It marks how long he's been stuck here, waiting for a world he's never been allowed to see.
The air in the gym feels stale, cold, dusty, and smelling like old sweat and metal. Definitely not the best place for a conversation... Let's switch things up.
"Come on," I say brightly, giving his arm a light pat. "I'm starving and it's almost dinner time."
He glances at the clock, a little puzzled. "Dinner's not for another hour."
I flash him a grin and start walking before he can argue. For a moment, I don't hear his footsteps and think he's not going to follow, until I glance over my shoulder and catch him hesitating before he starts trailing behind me.
As we walk through the corridor, I slow down a bit, hoping he'll come walk beside me. But he doesn't, he stays behind, quiet as a shadow. I can practically feel his eyes on me. Guess trust doesn't come easy for him.
The guards trail a few steps behind us too... not too close, but close enough to remind us they're there.
"This place looks exactly the same as the last time I was here," I say over my shoulder, trying to break the silence. "Well, except the gym. That's new."
His voice is rough and tired when he asks, "You've been here before?"
"Yeah! Once, not long after I arrived. So…I guess almost a year ago now."
But that makes me think, if he's been here longer, then why didn't I see him back then?
We step into the canteen, though calling it that feels a bit generous. It's more like a sad little room with two tables and benches that look like they squeak every time you move.
I plop down on one side and look up at him, but he hesitates, standing there like he's waiting for someone to give him permission. I nod toward the seat across from me with a grin. He finally sits, but keeps sneaking glances at the guard by the door.
What's that about, I wonder?
Now that I'm sitting across from him, I get a better look at his face. He's actually… pretty handsome. His hair is almost black, falling into his eyes in uneven strands, a little messy from working out.
There's a faint sheen of sweat along his temple, and the collar of his shirt sticks slightly to his neck. He looks tired, but in a quiet, composed way, like someone who's learned not to show it.
I catch myself staring a second too long and quickly look away, pretending to fidget with the hem of my sleeve. Oops… he probably wanted to shower before dinner. Now he's stuck sitting here, probably feeling self-conscious while I'm sitting here thinking way too much about his hair.
"So…" I lean on my hand and smile at him playfully.
His tired dark eyes meet mine, and I feel a warm flush creeping up the tips of my ears. He blinks. "So what?"
Something about the way he says it, quick, defensive, almost shy, makes me smile more. It's kinda cute.
"So, tell me about yourself!" I beam at him.
"I have nothing to talk about," he mutters.
Oh, so we're playing that game. I've met plenty of people like this before, closed off, all walls and no windows. But I'm patient. A little teasing, a little kindness, and most of them open up eventually.
"Oh, come on, 004," I say with a grin. "A good-looking guy like you? I bet you've got plenty to talk about."
For a moment, he freezes, like I've said something no one's ever said to him before. Then, slowly, heat creeps up his neck, and his ears flush pink. Got him.
I can't help the small, satisfied smile that tugs at my lips. It's tiny, barely noticeable, but it feels like a small win seeing him react like a real person.
"How long have you been here?" I ask, trying to keep my voice casual.
"I think… about a year and a half," he says quietly, like he's counting the days in his head.
I blink. "Half a year longer than me? That's… interesting. Why didn't I see you when I first got here?"
He shrugs slightly. "I've only been in this part of the building for half a year. Before that… I was in an isolation room, well, that's what they called it."
An isolation room? My chest tightens, and a cold shiver runs down my spine. I didn't even know there was somewhere like that.
I can't stop the questions from creeping into my mind. What happens to the people who misbehave here? The ones they don't even want in the segregation unit? Do you get sent there? Is that what it means if you step out of line more than once?
I force myself to look at 004, but his expression doesn't give anything away. There's no hint, no warning, no reassurance. Just the faint weight of someone who's already lived in a place like that, someone who probably knows the rules better than anyone. And suddenly, the walls of this canteen feel smaller, tighter, like the world itself is pressing in, and I realise I've been lucky...so far.
Well, if you can really call it luck.
I grin to try not to think about it and lean forward with a teasing glint in my eye. "So, you're a bad boy then?" I laugh.
He looks a little thrown off by that, and I can't help but wonder... what did he do to get himself locked out of the main facility? More importantly, why didn't they just terminate him like they do with the others who never learn to follow the rules? What makes this guy so different?
He seems caught off guard by my teasing, the faintest flicker of surprise crossing his features, but then his expression shifts, subtle, hesitant, like there's something tangled up in his mind he doesn't quite know how to untangle, or maybe isn't allowed to say.
Silence stretches between us, heavy and loaded, the kind that makes the echo of our breathing sound deafening. I can feel it pressing down, and I realise he probably won't speak unless I give him the tiniest nudge.
So I lean forward a little, softening my tone. "Is there something you want to ask?" I prod gently, trying to make it sound casual, friendly.
His eyes flick up to mine for the briefest second, and I can almost see the gears turning behind them, the uncertainty warring with curiosity. It's like he's balancing on a knife's edge, trying to figure out if it's safe to speak, if there's a place in this moment where he won't get in trouble just for asking.
I hold my breath a little, waiting, because if there's one thing I've learned here, it's that patience is sometimes the only way to get someone like him to open up.
"Erm… I just wanted to know about the others," he says quietly, almost shy. It's kind of adorable, honestly. For someone tall and strong like him, that bashfulness really throws me off, in a good way.
"Oh, well, a few kids come and go all the time," I say, waving a hand. "Different ages, different kinds of powers, it's always a mix."
He tilts his head. "What do you mean, come and go?"
My words get stuck in my throat. I hesitate, suddenly unsure how much I should tell him. If he's been isolated this whole time, he probably doesn't know that not everyone makes it through the experiments. Some of them… don't survive. Others get punished. And a few are just...gone.
"Erm… well," I start, scratching the back of my neck, "new kids show up now and then. Most of the ones I've talked to didn't really have a choice about coming here. As for… going out…" I pause, my voice dropping, "let's just say things don't always go as we hope for."
He goes quiet, and I can tell by the look in his eyes that he gets what I mean. There's this flicker of anger and sadness too.
I try to shake it off with a forced smile, willing my brain to come up with something clever to fill the space. Think… think. How can I turn this around? But before I can, the words slip out anyway.
"So what about you?" I ask, my voice a little too casual. "How did you end up here?"
The second I say it, my stomach twists. Stupid. That was such a stupid question. Nobody here has a happy story about how they ended up in a place like this.
004 shoulders stiffen, and he doesn't even meet my eyes. The silence stretches again, thicker this time, like the air itself is waiting for him to respond. But he doesn't.
Then, without a word, he stands. His movements are deliberate, controlled, like even leaving the room is another test he's been trained to pass.
"I'm going to take a shower," he says flatly, his voice stripped of any warmth, and walks out.
I groan and drop my head into my hands, rubbing my face. "Ugh… way to go. Real smooth," I mutter to myself under my breath. My stomach twists with a mix of frustration and guilt.
I slump my head against the table, letting out a long breath. Maybe some doors aren't meant to be opened. Maybe some people aren't ready to share. But damn it, part of me refuses to let it go that easily.
______________________________________
I wait in the canteen for a few hours, expecting him to come back for dinner, but he doesn't.
They brought our meals out about forty minutes ago, and I've just been picking at mine ever since.
I must've really pissed him off.
Dinner's going to be over soon, and in this place, if you miss a meal, that's it. You just go hungry until the next one. The thought makes me frown.
I glance at his untouched plate, still sitting there. With a sigh, I grab it off the table. If he's not coming here to eat, then I'll just have to bring dinner to him. I can't let him starve because of my stupidity.
When I walk into our room, I spot him sitting on the floor near the far wall, his back against one of the bunk beds. He's got a book in his hands and doesn't even look up as I step in. His hair's damp, and he's changed into the standard two-piece medical gowns we're forced to wear.
Still holding the plate, I walk over to him."Mind if I sit here?" I ask, my voice coming out a bit softer than I intended.
He sighs and, without looking up, says, "Sure."
That's good enough for me. I sit down beside him, not too close, though. Don't want to make him even more uncomfortable.
We sit in silence for a while. The air feels thick but calmer this time. Eventually, I slide the plate into his line of sight, hoping he'll get the hint.
I catch him glancing at it, and for a second, his eyes flick up to me, and he seems surprised, maybe even a little curious. I pull my knees to my chest and wrap my arms around them, smiling gently.
"You shouldn't skip dinner," I say, trying to keep it light.
Something softens in his expression before he mutters, "I'm not hungry."
Yeah, right. Lies.
"Even so… you should try to eat," I say, nudging the plate a little closer.
He hesitates, but then finally puts his book down and picks up the plate. He eats quietly, slowly at first but by the time he's done, there's not a single crumb left.
When he sets the empty plate down, he mumbles, "…thanks."
It catches me off guard. I grin a little before I can stop myself. "No problem… and, uh, sorry about earlier."
He shakes his head immediately. "Don't worry about it." His tone's calm, but there's this hint of sincerity that makes me believe he really means it.
"I just wanted to get to know you a bit more," I admit, laughing softly. "You know, since we're roommates now."
That earns me a small smile, barely there, just a flicker, but it's real. His expression softens, the edges of his usual guarded look, and wow, my heart actually skips a beat. It's ridiculous, but seeing him smile, even for half a second, feels like watching the sun break through a storm cloud.
"Oh, so you do know how to smile," I tease, giving him a playful nudge with my elbow.
He huffs out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "Oh, shut up."
But he's still smiling when he says it, not a full grin, not the kind that shows teeth, but enough to make my chest feel warm and stupidly light. For once, the air between us doesn't feel tense or awkward.
And as we sit there in this small, quiet room, I can't help but think that maybe, just maybe, he's starting to let his walls down.