Sunny kept walking, gaze unfocused, his grip tightening slightly around his lunch box.
A hand landed on his shoulder. "Sunny," the boy said louder. "Are you even listening?"
Sunny blinked, stopping mid-step. "What?"
"I said," the boy repeated, annoyed, "since when do we get bullied by first-years?"
Another chimed in. "Why did we leave our spot? That was ours."
Sunny opened his mouth, then closed it.
Inside, the thought echoed, sharp and uncomfortable.
Why did I agree?
Why did I listen to him?
It wasn't fear. He knew that much. His body hadn't reacted the way it did when trouble came. But the moment that boy spoke… it felt obvious. Like pushing back simply wasn't an option.
"Sunny," someone snapped, "what's wrong with you today?"
Sunny exhaled and shook his head, forcing a grin that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Forget it."
The others frowned.
"Forget it?" one repeated.
"Yeah," Sunny said, waving a hand dismissively. "Let them have fun. It's their first day."
"That's it?" another asked. "We're just letting this go?"
Sunny started walking again. "For now."
"For now?" someone pressed.
Sunny didn't look back. "We'll take care of it later."
The group exchanged looks but followed, their complaints trailing off as the stairs swallowed their voices.
The terrace felt open in a way the classroom never could.
Up here, the school's noise softened into something distant, stripped of urgency. The shouts from the playground below became background texture rather than distraction, and the hum of voices drifting from open windows felt small, almost harmless.
Tyler sat down first, crossing his legs loosely as he set his lunch box on the table. The sun sat high enough to warm the surface beneath them, but not so harsh that it burned. A faint breeze cut through occasionally, carrying the smell of food and something clean, almost metallic, from the railings.
Noah dropped down beside him with a dramatic sigh. "Okay," he said, stretching his arms, "this officially beats eating next to the trash can."
Chris followed, slumping down with far less care. "I don't know. There's something comforting about chaos."
Eris sat more neatly, placing her lunch box beside her instead of in front, scanning the space before settling. Luna and Aria sat close together, their shoulders brushing lightly as they adjusted. Kai leaned against the low wall, legs bent, gaze drifting outward instead of at anyone in particular. Amaya hovered a moment longer before sitting.
Noah popped his lunch box open and grimaced. "I already regret this."
Tyler glanced over. "You just opened it."
"Exactly."
Chris leaned in, peering inside. "Is that rice?"
"And sauce."
"That's not lunch," Eris said flatly. "That's surrender."
Noah clutched the box closer. "It's called minimalism."
"It's called poor planning," Eris replied, then glanced at Tyler. "What did you bring?"
Tyler lifted his lid. Steam drifted up faintly.
Noah gasped like he'd just witnessed a crime. "That's illegal. You can't bring something that good on the first day."
"It's leftovers," Tyler said.
Chris squinted. "From what? A restaurant?"
"My house."
"That explains everything," Chris muttered. "Some people are just born unfair."
Tyler laughed, the sound easy, surprising even himself.
Eris noticed. She didn't comment, but the corner of her mouth lifted slightly.
Aria peeked into Luna's lunch. "That looks… balanced."
Luna smiled. "My mom doesn't trust school food."
Noah waved his chopsticks dramatically. "Your mom is wise."
As they ate, the conversation bounced naturally. Chris complained about how his food was too spicy but continued eating anyway. Noah offered to trade sauce for literally anything with flavor. Tyler teased Kai for eating in exact, measured bites.
"You're chewing like it's an exam," Tyler said.
Kai shrugged. "Habit."
Amaya laughed quietly. "You count bites, don't you?"
"No."
"You hesitated," Chris said. "That's a yes."
When Chris spilled a drop of sauce on his sleeve, Eris noticed and smile.
Then said, "That took less than five minutes."
Chris stared at his sleeve. "I was betrayed."
By the time they were halfway through their food, the terrace felt like theirs.
"This is nice," Luna said softly, gazing out over the edge. "It doesn't feel like school."
"That's the dangerous part," Noah replied. "Once it stops feeling like school, teachers appear."
Tyler leaned back slightly, hands resting on the chair behind him. He felt lighter than he had in weeks.
He joked about teachers, complained mildly about early mornings, admitted he liked how the building looked from above.
Eris caught him mid-sentence at one point, watching him with a thoughtful expression.
"You're enjoying this," she said.
Tyler didn't deny it. "Yeah."
Kai glanced over. "That's new."
Tyler smiled. "So is middle school."
They finished eating slowly, dragging out the last few minutes. When lunch boxes began closing one by one, Tyler glanced at his wrist.
"We should head back," he said.
Noah looked genuinely offended. "Already?"
"Lunch time's almost over," Eris said, checking the sky. "We'll be late."
Tyler nodded. "Let's go."
They stood, stretched, gathered their things. The mood stayed light as they headed toward the stairwell, their footsteps echoing softly as they descended.
Then the noise changed.
It wasn't loud at first. Just sharper. Edges where there shouldn't be any.
Tyler slowed slightly.
Below, voices overlapped, tense and uneven. The kind that didn't belong to jokes or excitement.
Chris sped up instinctively. "What's that?"
Noah followed. "Sounds like trouble."
Kai moved with them, shoulders tightening.
Tyler didn't rush.
He already knew.
Thought Reading wasn't a spotlight. It was a field. And the moment they stepped into range, the intent hit him like static.
Second-years.
Sunny.
Mockery. Ownership. Familiar patterns.
He smiled faintly as he continued down at an unhurried pace.
Chris, Noah, and Kai reached the bottom first.
They stopped.
A group of first-years stood pressed near the lockers, lunch boxes clutched awkwardly, eyes darting. In front of them were faces they recognized immediately.
Sunny's group.
Chris swore under his breath. "You've got to be kidding me."
Noah's fists clenched. "It's them."
Kai's jaw tightened. "Same guys."
One of the second-years laughed loudly, stepping closer to the first-years, invading space without touching. "Watch where you're standing."
"I'm sorry"
Sunny said "I didn't here your apology properly"
Sunny shouted "Speak clearly", as he pushed him towards the locker.
Behind them, Sunny noticed movement.
His gaze lifted.
Locked onto Chris. Noah. Kai.
He froze for half a second.
Tyler stepped on the final stair, calm, smile unchanged, eyes already on Sunny.
The hallway held its breath.
Tyler stepped off the final stair without breaking stride.
He didn't pause to take in the scene. He didn't square his shoulders or slow down for effect. He simply continued forward, as if the cluster of students ahead were nothing more than a temporary obstacle in a familiar hallway.
Chris, Noah, and Kai stood near the edge of the crowd, their bodies angled forward, attention locked on the confrontation. The first-year students being cornered hadn't moved. He looked frozen, unsure whether stepping back or standing still would make things worse.
Tyler reached Chris first.
He didn't stop.
"Why are you standing here?" Tyler said casually as he passed, his tone light, almost bored. "Let's go. Lunch time's almost over."
Chris blinked.
He looked from Sunny, then back at Tyler.
For a brief second, it seemed like he might say something. Then his mouth curved into a smile. He shook his head once, amused, and turned on his heel.
"Yeah," Chris said easily. "Good point."
He fell in step behind Tyler without another word.
Noah stared after them, confused. "Wait, what—"
Kai was already moving.
He didn't question it. He didn't hesitate. He simply adjusted his pace and followed, his expression smoothing out as if a switch had been flipped.
The sudden shift caught attention.
Students around turned their heads. A few murmurs rippled through the crowd as Tyler walked straight toward Sunny.
Tyler angled slightly, just enough that their shoulders were on a collision course.
At the last moment, Tyler sidestepped smoothly, passing so close that the edge of Sunny's sleeve brushed his arm.
Tyler stopped half a step past him.
He tilted his head, brows knitting together in exaggerated confusion.
"Why is there a pillar in the middle of the hallway?" Tyler asked aloud.
The pause lasted only a fraction of a second.
Then laughter broke out.
It wasn't loud or mocking, but it was unmistakable. A few students snorted. Someone near the back let out a sharp laugh before clamping a hand over their mouth.
Tyler turned back slowly, as if realizing his mistake.
"Oh," he said, meeting Sunny's eyes directly now. "A second-year senior."
His smile widened, polite and almost apologetic.
"That's my fault," Tyler continued. "Looks like I should apologize too."
Sunny didn't respond.
He just stood there.
The words didn't register the way they should have. His mouth opened slightly, then closed again. For a moment, it felt like the hallway had tilted.
Tyler's smile shifted, just a little.
He gave a small nod, as if the matter were settled, then stepped past Sunny completely.
Students moved out of the way without thinking, bodies shifting instinctively to open a path. Tyler didn't acknowledge them. He walked straight toward Class 1-A, his group falling in behind him with expressions that ranged from amused to stunned.
Noah glanced back once, then leaned toward Kai. "Did that just work?"
Kai didn't answer. He was watching Tyler.
They reached the classroom door and slipped inside just as the bell warning for the end of lunch echoed faintly through the building.
Behind them, the hallway exhaled.
One of the second-years snapped first.
"Sunny," he hissed, stepping closer. "Why did you let him go?"
Sunny didn't turn.
"He insulted us," another said, louder now. "Right to your face."
"We should've grabbed him," a third added. "Beat him once and he wouldn't try that again."
Sunny clenched his jaw.
Inside his head, the moment replayed again and again. The smile. The timing. The way his body had refused to move.
Why didn't I say anything?
Why couldn't I?
He felt a hand land on his arm, tugging him back to the present.
"Sunny," the second-year said sharply. "Are you even listening?"
Sunny inhaled slowly and raised a hand.
"Enough," he said.
The word came out calm, firmer than he expected.
They stopped talking.
Sunny turned to face them, eyes steady now, though the confusion hadn't fully faded.
"First," he said, "find out who he is."
One of them scoffed. "He's just a first-year."
Sunny shook his head. "He's not simple."
Silence followed.
Another student hesitated. "Then… what about this kid?" he asked, gesturing toward the first-year who had been cornered earlier.
Sunny glanced in his direction. He stood awkwardly, still unsure whether he was free to leave.
"Let him go," Sunny said.
"What?"
"Let him go," he repeated. "We're done here."
The second-years exchanged looks but didn't argue further. Sunny turned away and started walking toward his class. After a moment, the others followed, their steps slower, their voices lower.
The hallway didn't empty immediately. Clusters remained, buzzing quietly as students replayed what they had just seen.
"Did you see that first-year?"
"He didn't even raise his voice."
"That was smooth."
"I thought they were going to fight."
A group of girls stood near the windows, whispering excitedly.
"He walked straight through them."
"And they moved."
"That senior just froze."
Clara stood slightly apart with Sofia and Mira, her gaze fixed on the direction Tyler had gone.
She hadn't planned on stopping. She'd only been caught in the crowd. But now she watched, thoughtful, her expression calm but attentive.
Sofia leaned closer. "That was impressive."
Mira nodded. "Confidence like that doesn't come from nowhere."
Clara didn't speak immediately.
She replayed the moment in her head. The timing. The smile. The way he'd turned tension into something laughable.
"…Let's go," she said finally, her tone even. "We'll be late."
They moved off together, though Clara glanced back once more before the hallway turned.
Further down the corridor, two second-year students leaned against a railing, having watched the scene unfold from a distance.
One of them frowned. "Wait."
"What?"
"Wasn't that Tyler?"
The other tilted his head. "Tyler?"
"Yeah," the first said slowly. "The one Elijah brought to that soccer game during vacation."
Recognition dawned.
"…Right," the second said. "Those eyes."
"And the way he played."
They shared a look.
"But he used to be quiet," the first added. "Barely talked."
The second shrugged. "Looks like a lot changed."
He pushed off the railing. "We should tell Elijah."
"About Sunny's group?"
"And about Tyler," the second replied. "If he's involved now, things might get interesting."
The bell rang.
Students hurried to class, conversations cutting off mid-sentence as the building shifted back into order.
Inside Class 1-A, Tyler slid into his seat as if nothing unusual had happened.
He rested his hands on the desk, posture relaxed, expression neutral.