I step out of the house, the door clicks shut behind me, and the morning air hits me in the face like a slap. I feel everything. the dampness of dawn, the smell of grass after the night, the flutter of pigeons on the roof, even the faint laughter of kids somewhere down the street. Every detail is sharp, almost unreal in how real it feels.
I see Peter waiting by the fence, leaning against it, one hand on his phone, the other holding a half-eaten sandwich. I spread my arms wide and yell across the whole street:
"Good morning, motherfucker!"
Peter laughs, raises an eyebrow at me.
"Bro, did you lose your virginity last night? What the hell is wrong with you?"
I throw my backpack over my shoulder, still laughing, and sling an arm around him.
"I'm like this every day, you should know that by now."
Peter gives me a long look, the kind people give you when they're sure you're lying but can't prove it.
"Okay. Uh-huh. Sure. I'll get the truth out of you later. You're way too happy, it's kinda creepy."
I shrug. If only he knew. And honestly? I'm glad he doesn't.
We get into his car. I'm still adjusting my seatbelt when he launches straight into another topic:
"Dude, remember that limited Spider-Man comic? The one that sold out everywhere and was going for stupid prices on eBay? Guess who got it this morning!"
My eyes widen.
"No shit. Where did you get the money? Did you sell your mom's kidney?"
Peter bursts out laughing.
"My mom's fine. Some guy listed it on eBay at three a.m. Got it for half the price! I mean... unless it arrives in pieces, but that'll make it even more dramatic, right?"
The engine hums and Peter adds,
"Get ready, because the moment it arrives, I'm gonna scan it and release it to the world. This will be my magnum opus. I might even start an OnlyFans."
I shake my head and lean back.
"I thought this morning couldn't get any more fucked up... So if I see you running from school because half of the nerd club is chasing you, I'm recording it."
Peter scoffs, pretending to be serious.
"Oh, and by the way, we've got Thompson first period, and if he asks again why I take notes on my phone, I'm telling him it's for NASA research."
I laugh.
"Right, because NASA desperately needs your history notes."
"Bro, you never know where the next great scientist comes from! Also, side note, your mom still thinks I'm a bad influence, but honestly, seeing you shine like this? I might start giving her parenting tips."
I shrug, sticking my head out the window so the sunlight hits the dashboard. Peter switches the radio to some indie crap, and for the first time in forever, I'm just... laughing. Everything feels exactly right. Like the world is running at full brightness.
Peter elbows me.
"You're seriously okay today, right? You sure you're not possessed or something? Because if you are, I wanna be the first to know."
I grin.
"I'm not possessed, dude. Just... good. And don't worry, if I start speaking Latin and twist my head in impossible angles, I'll let you know."
We both crack up as the car rolls into a new day bursting with the kind of energy we thought we'd lost years ago.
Peter pulls into the school parking lot. The radio's blasting, the school parking lot is already buzzing. Bunch of guys leaning on cars, girls in skirts, someone taking selfies by the entrance. Everything feels too bright, too sharp, almost overwhelming.
As we walk across the courtyard, the sun hits hard, bouncing off the cars, making everything appear hyper-alive. Every laugh, every scream, every glance feels louder, longer, more vivid. Peter walks beside me with his hands stuffed in his pockets, and I get this strange feeling, like this is the moment where everything makes sense, even if it shouldn't.
The girls are at their usual spot, leaning on the railing like it's their throne. Coffee in hand. Laughter resting in the air around them. Jessica's wearing sunglasses and pretending she doesn't care. Rosie's standing right beside her sister. And Kate... Kate stands in the middle.
Still. Controlled. Watching the world like it belongs to her.
Peter nudges me.
"Alright. Showtime."
We walk toward them.
"Ladies!" I announce dramatically, arms spread. "Seeing you together is like witnessing a solar eclipse. Rare. Beautiful. Potentially dangerous."
Jess lowers her glasses, unimpressed.
"Oh God. He's performing again."
Rosie bursts out laughing. Kate just watches me - not annoyed, not amused, just... focused. With her, even that's a reaction.
"Vexley," she says quietly.
"Monroe," I answer, trying not to sound like an idiot.
"You look like you actually slept."
"I'm trying out this thing called mental stability."
She takes a sip of her coffee. "You look too happy. That's usually a bad sign."
Jess crosses her arms.
"Yeah, seriously. Why do you look so... alive? What did you do?"
"Nothing," I say. "Maybe I just realized the world isn't as awful as it looks."
"Or you lost your mind," Peter adds.
"That's also possible."
The girls laugh, even Kate. Her laugh is quiet but real. For a second, the world feels too perfect. And that scares me more than anything.
Kate leans in, just slightly, close enough that I smell her perfume.
"You know what's strangest about you today?" she whispers.
"That I'm overdoing it?"
"No. That for the first time I'm not sure if you're doing it for attention... or because you truly feel good."
For a heartbeat, I freeze. but on the surface, I just smile.
"Maybe both."
"Maybe," she says quietly. Then she turns away, her hair sliding over her shoulder as she walks off with Jess and Rosie.
Peter nudges me.
"Bro. That was almost romantic."
Inside the school, everything punches me at once — the echo of lockers slamming, shoes squeaking on the tiles, a burst of laughter, someone whispering behind their hand. I hear all of it with uncomfortable clarity. Like the hallway's too close, too loud.
Peter keeps talking, but the sounds around me drift and sharpen all at once. I can pinpoint a phone vibrating inside someone's backpack. The fizz of a soda being opened. Water trickling in the fountain thirty feet away.
It's too much.
We reach our lockers.
Peter leans closer and whispers:
"Okay, real question. Shouldn't you be like... depressed today or something?"
I stop.
My fingers slip on the cold metal of the locker.
"Why would I be depressed?"
Peter looks at me with that half-amused, half-suspicious look of his.
And then, quietly:
"You didn't see Kate's story last night? With that guy? I thought that would at least mess you up a little."
And instantly-
It hits me.
Like someone ripped open my chest and poured boiling water inside.
An image flashes in my mind.
last night, the quiet house, my footsteps on the stairs, the heavy darkness of the garage. The rope digging into my throat, my own shaking hands, the smell of metal and gasoline, the concrete under my feet.
The moment when there was nowhere left to go. When my breath stopped. When the world went silent.
The moment of breaking apart.
And rebuilding.
And that first, sharp, violent breath.
Now, in the noise of the hallway, that feeling floods back into me.
Suddenly I feel every sound. My heartbeat pounding in my ears, but not just mine. I can hear the blood humming in other people's veins, the tiny muscle twitch in a girl's face as she laughs. The world splits into colors, sounds, scents.
And with it, a hunger rises. sharp, fierce, tearing. Not the kind that asks what's for a burger, the other kind. The kind that doesn't ask at all.
It twists my stomach, tightens my jaw. I grip the strap of my backpack so no one sees my hand shaking.
And then that photo of Kate flashes again.
a stranger's hands on her waist, her smile, the look on her face.
"Yeah, I saw it. But hey, everyone has their type. I don't go for dudes who'd cry if their gym got closed."
Peter bursts out laughing. "Fair enough. I just thought you'd be, I don't know... jealous."
I shut my locker.
"Nah. I'm fine. Stop psychoanalyzing me, Lockwood. Go analyze your miserable love life."
"My love life is a public tragedy," he says proudly. "But okay."
He moves on, still talking, but my brain's somewhere else. The hallway noise stretches, voices splitting into layers, footsteps syncing like a heartbeat, the air vibrating...
I adjust my backpack and stare toward the end of the corridor, trying to look normal, trying not to let anything show.
Because ever since last night, ever since that moment between life and death in the garage. The world hasn't sounded the same.
And I just hope no one notices.