Ethan had one simple goal that evening.
Just one.
Send a clear message to the gang.
That was it.
No drama. No confusion. No emotional breakdowns. Just information.
Unfortunately, Ethan had forgotten one crucial detail.
The gang could never be simple.
He stared at his phone, thumb hovering over the screen. The group chat—lovingly and questionably named "The Brain Cells (Shared)"—had been silent for exactly six minutes, which in their world meant something was wrong.
Very wrong.
Ethan cleared his throat, as if the phone could hear him.
Ethan: Alright everyone, quick update. Let's stay focused.
Within two seconds, the chat exploded.
Leo: Focused on what? Because I'm currently focused on snacks.
Maya: Same. But emotionally.
Jonah: Why does every "quick update" from Ethan sound like bad news?
Ethan pinched the bridge of his nose.
Ethan: No bad news. Just coordination.
Maya: That's what you said last time before everything went sideways.
Leo: Yeah. And I lost my favorite jacket.
Jonah: RIP jacket. Gone but never forgotten.
Ethan typed slowly, deliberately.
Ethan: Can we not start this today?
A typing bubble appeared. Then another. Then three at once.
His phone vibrated like it was having a panic attack.
Maya: Too late. We already started.
Ethan sighed and leaned back on his chair, staring at the ceiling. Somewhere in the distance, he could almost hear Alexander's calm voice telling him to "manage the situation."
Manage what, exactly? A pack of grown children?
He tried again.
Ethan: Listen. Alexander wants everyone aligned. No improvising.
Silence.
Then—
Leo: Wow. You used his full name. Serious.
Jonah: I'm suddenly sitting up.
Maya: Define "aligned."
Ethan smiled grimly. Progress.
Ethan: Aligned means no one does anything without talking to the group first.
A pause.
Leo: What about breathing?
Ethan: Leo.
Leo: I'm just asking.
Ethan ignored him.
Ethan: We're keeping things calm. Observant. Normal.
Maya: We've never been normal.
Jonah: Speak for yourself. I'm extremely normal.
Maya: You once tried to microwave metal.
Jonah: That was research.
Ethan groaned.
He switched tactics.
Ethan: Look, this matters. Cynthia is around. We don't need unnecessary chaos.
The typing bubbles stopped.
That got their attention.
Maya: Oh.
Leo: Say less.
Jonah: You should've started with that.
Ethan blinked.
Was that… cooperation?
Ethan: Good. So we're agreed.
Leo: Agreed-ish.
Maya: Agreed but watching closely.
Jonah: Agreed but emotionally invested.
Ethan decided that was the best he would get.
Before he could relax, another message popped up.
Leo: So… are we allowed to tease Alexander about this?
Ethan stared at the screen.
Ethan: Absolutely not.
Maya: What if it's gentle teasing?
Ethan: No teasing.
Jonah: What if he teases himself?
Ethan paused.
That one was… possible.
Ethan: Then we pretend not to notice.
Leo: This is oppression.
Ethan smirked despite himself.
Ethan: This is leadership.
The gang reacted with a mix of laughing emojis, dramatic sighs, and one very unnecessary voice note from Leo that Ethan refused to open.
He checked the time. Too late to back out now.
Despite everything, Ethan felt a small smile tug at his lips. This was chaos, yes—but it was familiar chaos. Controlled chaos. Mostly.
His phone buzzed again.
Maya: You okay, Ethan? You sound tense.
He paused before replying.
Ethan: Just trying to keep things from exploding.
Jonah: You're doing great, Mom.
Ethan: Don't call me that.
Leo: Too late. Already saved your name.
Ethan shook his head, laughing quietly.
Ethan: Alright. That's all. Stay sharp. Stay calm.
Maya: Sharp-ish.
Leo: Calm-ish.
Jonah: Alive.
Ethan set the phone down and leaned back, exhaling.
Mission accomplished.
Barely.
Somewhere out there, the gang was doing exactly what they always did—pushing limits, joking too much, and somehow still having each other's backs.