Ray sat at the kitchen table, tapping his pen against the notebook as he finished his homework. His mind drifted past math problems and history notes to the small creature waiting at home—a little scavenger with a taste for crunchy treats and anything shiny. What kind of food did it need again? Something crunchy, maybe a special snack?
Ray shut his notebook and stuffed it into his bag, pulling out his phone to double-check the list of supplies. Crunchy bits, fresh water—he muttered the items under his breath as he stepped out the door. No rush, just a quick trip down the street.
He walked, eyes on the screen, scrolling through the pet supply list. The afternoon air was cool, quiet except for distant city sounds.
Then, a sudden crash echoed nearby—shouts, broken glass. Ray looked up, squinting down the street, and almost walked straight into a chaotic crowd.
People were yelling and throwing punches—a brutal brawl unfolding right in front of him.
Ray froze for a moment, eyebrows knitting. This wasn't what he'd expected when he left the house.
He sighed, dropped his phone into his pocket, and stepped forward, not out of heroism, but because the street was blocked and he needed to get through.
The situation escalates further as he approaches.
The man in green had tried to shoplift. One of the customers noticed and alerted the workers. When they confronted him, they asked him to empty his pockets, and sure enough, he was hiding stolen medicine. The man seemed willing to comply—until something triggered him.
"I need this," he muttered under his breath, his voice shaking. His eyes were wide, and his hands clenched around the stolen bottles.
"It's for my mom," he added, almost pleading.
Ray learned that the man's mother was seriously ill, and he had been stealing medicine to try to help her—something the store workers hadn't known. The man in green's expression hardened as he realized he was caught. He suddenly snapped, his eyes wild with frustration and fear.
"I can't let her die," he growled, his voice low and strained. "She's all I've got left!"
When the black-haired customer tried to challenge him, the man in green exploded. His anger wasn't just about being caught; it was the desperation and helplessness of someone who had reached their breaking point. The fight turned violent, and Ray, trying to keep things under control, stepped in.
Ray reaches into his pocket, pulls out a few crumpled bills, and lays them on the counter.
"This should cover it," he says flatly, nodding toward the battered medicine bottles on the floor.
The cashier hesitates, but accepts it with a quiet nod.
His fists tighten. He knew that look. That helpless, hollow panic. The kind you wear when someone you love is hurting and there's nothing—nothing—you can do. No money, no miracle, just a world that wears you thin until all that's left is the part of you that stops fighting.
Ray swallows hard, his jaw clenched so tight it aches.
We're not so different, he thinks bitterly. Maybe I just have a longer fuse.
He could feel it now—that slow, creeping fire in his chest. The kind that doesn't burn hot, but deep. The kind that waits.
And if it were him in that man's shoes…
Hell, maybe he already had been.
He turns sharply and walks out, jaw set, eyes burning—not with tears, but with the quiet fury of someone who's been there, and is still there, pretending he's not.
We're not so different, he thinks bitterly.
He hadn't snapped in public, hadn't thrown punches in a pharmacy—but that feeling? That panic, that useless rage when someone you love is hurting and there's nothing you can do?
He knew it too well.
His fuse was longer, that's all. Same string—just wound tighter, burning slower.
But it was burning.
Always burning.
Ray's jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing slightly.
The man in green stares at Ray in disbelief. His breathing is ragged, eyes darting like a trapped animal. But then something softens. He looks up at Ray—really looks at him—and for a brief second, the panic breaks. Relief washes over his face like a tide receding, leaving only exhaustion behind.
"Thank you," he whispers, barely audible.
Then he bolts.
He shoves past the onlookers, knocking over a basket and slipping between two stunned customers near the door. A few people instinctively try to go after him.
Ray steps forward and blocks their path with one arm.
"Let him go."
There's a moment of hesitation. Murmurs ripple through the crowd, but no one challenges him. The tension hangs for a beat longer before it disperses, leaving behind only the wreckage of the scuffle and the sound of distant sirens growing louder.
Ray exhales, rubs the back of his neck, and walks back to grab his groceries. The adrenaline's wearing off, and the dull ache of responsibility settles in. He pulls out his phone to check the time—late.
Just then the police arrive. They ask for details to arrest the suspect and bring him in for questioning.
Ray comments,
"He didn't hurt anyone, but he was trying to steal medicine for his ill mother; he's not a criminal."
The officer glances at Ray, then at the store manager, who's standing by. The manager looks frustrated, clearly upset about the situation.
The manager approaches Ray and the officer with a frown.
"You paid for his stolen goods? Are you serious?"
Ray stands firm, looking the manager in the eye.
"Yeah, I did. What else was I supposed to do? The guy's desperate. He's not a hardened criminal. He's someone who's struggling, and I thought maybe paying for it would stop things from getting out of hand."
"You think you did the right thing?" the manager asked, voice clipped.
"That guy snapped. He could've hospitalised someone."
Ray didn't flinch.
"He didn't. And now he won't."
The manager's jaw tightened.
"Never come back. If I see you or him again, I won't hesitate to call the police," he muttered before turning away.
Ray and the officer exchanged a look before the officer headed out.
Ray exhaled deeply, the tension draining from his shoulders as he turned toward the door.
Outside, the sky was a riot of colors—deep oranges, purples, and pinks swirling in the fading light. Ray glanced up, the chaotic hues reflecting the turmoil still burning quietly inside him. He shook his head, muttering,
"What a drag."
He started walking home, each step heavy with the weight of the day.
As Ray approached his house, he saw some familiar faces.
James, Norman, Gwen, and Louis all waved as he reached his front door.
"Why are you all here?" he asked, already bracing himself.
James shrugged.
"We're hungry."
Gwen clasped her hands dramatically.
"Feed us, Father."
Ray's eyebrow twitched.
"Even if I wanted to, I don't have enough food for all of you. Get lost."
But Gwen stepped forward, immediately circling him like a nurse on a mission.
"Hold on—turn around. Let me see."
Ray groaned.
"Gwen, I'm fine—"
"Shush. You're walking funny. Limp? Stiffness? Possible fracture?" She prodded his ribs.
"Okay, that's tender. Swelling here too. On a scale from one to 'call an ambulance,' how lucid are you feeling?"
Ray swatted her hand.
"I'm upright, talking, and annoyed. That's three signs of life."
Norman sighed and gently tugged her back by the collar.
"He's fine. Let the man breathe."
Gwen huffed.
"Internal bleeding doesn't breathe."
Norman gave her a flat look.
"Neither did Dad's cactus after you 'watered' it."
Gwen crossed her arms.
"One accident and suddenly I'm a menace to all life forms."
Norman stepped forward, silver hair catching the light like morning frost, soft and precise. His eyes held the cool stillness of deep water—unshaken, watchful. There was a quiet elegance to him, as if the world moved just a little slower in his presence. He didn't dazzle, didn't demand—but somehow, you noticed him all the same.
"We're not actually here to raid your fridge," he said, offering a gentle smile.
"Maya told us what happened last night. So…"
He gestured to the others behind him—James with a takeout bag, Gwen with balloons somehow, Louis balancing a cake box like it might explode.
"…We thought you could use a little cheering up. Consider this your very exclusive, slightly underwhelming, 'Get Well Soon' party."
Ray stared.
"This is a joke."
James held up the bag.
"The food isn't."
Gwen smirked.
"You're welcome."
Ray sighed, already turning to unlock the door.
"You're all lucky I can barely walk."
Louis grinned.
"That's why we came today."
Around him, the others were in full setup mode. Gwen balanced on a chair, fixing a banner that read "GET WELL OR ELSE" in glittery, uneven letters. Louis moved between tables, tossing down streamers and tassels like confetti grenades, while James dug into a plastic crate filled with mismatched party supplies—horns, hats, even a suspiciously dented disco ball.
Ray raised an eyebrow, watching Gwen duct-tape a foil balloon to a ceiling vent.
"I got roughed up, not buried—easy on the fanfare."
James popped up from behind the crate, holding a tray of cookies like a prize.
"Relax. Eat something and shut up. Couch, now."
Ray sighed, but the smell of actual food tugged at him. He dropped onto the couch beside James, sinking into the cushions.
A beat passed. Then Louis paused mid-decoration and frowned.
"Wait. We don't have any drinks."
James froze, eyes darting like a busted vending machine.
"What drinks?"
Louis slowly turned.
"The drinks you were supposed to bring."
Silence.
James blinked.
"...Oh."
Ray leaned back, glancing at Louis.
"Can't you just teleport to a store or something?"
Louis held up his wrist, revealing the slim silver band embedded with small blue circuits. It pulsed faintly.
"I would, but this thing's a leash. It suppresses my powers outside school grounds."
Ray frowned.
"Seriously?"
Louis nodded.
"They don't want the one guy who can teleport vanishing off to Vegas or crashing into airspace. It's all tracked. If I jump too far off-campus, the school's system locks me down. Hard."
James raised an eyebrow.
"So no soda run?"
"Not unless you want me to get tackled by a drone mid-jump."
Ray scoffed.
"So what I'm hearing is... we're having a dry party."
James nodded solemnly.
"A very dry party. Spiritually and physically."
Everyone looked around at each other, nodded, and unanimously decided they needed to go to the store.
Ray scoffs.
"It's almost 9:30 p.m. Most stores are closed by now."
Gwen chimes in,
"There's a 24-hour store a couple of miles down."
Ray scratches his face,
"I'm officially banned from that one."
There's no way? The group responded.
Ray, with a hint of remorse in his sound,
"It was nothing serious, I just broke up a little brawl."
Louis slaps him on the back.
"Trouble is never far when you're already!" he laughs.
James shrugs with a little sigh,
"I guess we'll just have to go to my pops' store."
Ray raises an eyebrow.
"How do you plan on getting there? Sanji's the only one with a car, but it's not here."
"We could ride my bike!" said Louis.
Ray scoffed.
"There's no way 5 people are fitting on your tiny motorcycle."
"We'll get a taxi," says James.
Gwen pats him on the back.
"Good thinking!"
Louis replies to James, saying,
"There aren't any taxis in our area."
"Well, that leaves us no choice. We'll have to walk," Norman says.
Ray groans.
"Like hell. I'm tired."
Before he can finish, James lifts him onto his shoulder. Ray protests, but James ignores him. Gwen takes charge, leading them in a single-file line.
"Listen up, men. We have a mission, and that mission is to accomplish our mission... to bring honor to the mission."
Ray thinks to himself,
"What the hell?" But somehow, Gwen's ridiculous speech motivates everyone. They march forward, with Ray screaming in fear on James's shoulder.
Later, everyone was resting after the chaos of the soda bottle incident. Louis, still out of breath, groaned.
"Who knew soda bottles could burst so easily?"
James snapped,
"You were holding the soda? You dick! Now all my clothes are wet!"
Gwen added,
"Yeah, you got it on me, too. I ended up falling and breaking my glasses."
Louis quickly apologized,
"Sorry! But it's because of someone I wasn't paying attention to."
Gwen, now looking at him with a nervous expression, frowned.
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
Louis smirked.
"You were chasing me with a spider!"
Gwen jumped up, standing toe to toe with him.
"It was a fake spider! I didn't think you'd believe it was real, idiot."
Louis, determined not to back down, stood his ground.
"It still freaked me out!"
Before it could escalate, Norman stepped in.
"What's done is done. Please, stop fighting, you two."
But, naturally, Gwen and Louis turn on Norman like clockwork. His self-esteem takes a nose dive as they start teasing him instead.
"Alright, knock it off," James says, smacking Gwen lightly on the head.
Ray smacks Louis.
"Yeah. Seriously, grow up."
Ray heads to the kitchen to finish cooking while the others settle down, still sticky and complaining but slowly calming.
Dinner is warm and messy. Everyone thanks Ray as they eat, and by the time the plates are cleared, they've all collapsed into a collective food coma—some on the couch, others on the floor, snoring with zero dignity.
Ray and Norman stay behind to clean up, moving empty dishes and dragging limbs to beds.
Dressed in a full Hello Kitty pajama set, Norman looks more like a toddler than a soon-to-be man, but his appearance couldn't be more misleading. While everyone else rushed off to bed or passed out without a second thought, Norman stayed in the kitchen with Ray, quietly wiping counters and stacking dishes, helping however he could.
The room was quiet—just the hum of the fridge and the occasional distant snore from the others.
Norman opened a drawer, then casually slid an envelope across the counter toward Ray.
"You've seemed a little down on your luck lately," he said softly.
"Maybe this can help."
Ray glanced at the envelope, brow furrowing.
"What is it?"
Norman gave a small smile.
"Call it a thank-you. Or a maybe-you'll-need-it-someday kind of thing."
Ray dried his hands and picked it up, studying it like it might explode.
"...Thanks, I guess."
Norman didn't say anything else—just patted him on the shoulder and moved on to wiping the stove.
The next morning was a usual chaos-filled morning. The whole house woke up to Louis arguing with James over who should be next in line for the bathroom.
James, with an annoyed look, told Louis he was here first.
Louis angrily replied,
"You don't even need to use the bathroom, all you want to do is style your hair like a little princess, move!!"
A fight broke out, and Louis was roundhouse kicked out of the window by James, and as Gwen exited, she couldn't help but laugh at the chaos.
Norman was the one to go retrieve Louis, while Ray gathered everyone at the table to eat. As they finished up, Ray showed them the time, urging them to hurry home before school started.
Ray was nearly done cleaning when Norman finally brought Louis back inside, disheveled, but still grinning.
Just in time. A car horn honked outside.
Sanji stepped out of the driver's seat, casual as ever, sunglasses perched despite the fading light.
"Sorry I missed your party," he smirked.
"I was a little busy with a lady friend."
Ray just stared.
"Of course you were."
Before Gwen climbed into the car, she handed Ray a small bag of ampoules. Her usual confident smirk softened, eyes flickering with genuine concern.
"This should help with any pain and get you back on your feet."
"Thanks… but I don't think I'll need th—"
Gwen's glare cut him off.
"I meant to say these are exactly what I needed. My shoulder's been killing me. I'll take one right now."
Her gaze softened.
"YOU BETTER!" she yelled.
Ray waved them off, muttering,
"What a pain," but couldn't hide the small grin slipping through.