That night, the house is quiet again—but this time, it isn't heavy.
It's fragile.
I stand in front of Emma's door for a moment, my hand hovering in the air. Then I knock.
Three times.
"Go away," her voice comes from the other side. Flat. Tired.
"It's me," I say softly. "Barry."
There's a pause.
Then the door opens, slow and cautious, like she's afraid I might disappear if she moves too fast.
She steps aside without a word.
I walk in and close the door behind me. Her room looks the same as always—posters slightly crooked, clothes half-folded on the chair, the faint smell of her shampoo still in the air. It hits me harder than I expect.
She sits down on the bed, hugging her knees.
I sit beside her, close enough that our shoulders almost touch.
"I heard you earlier," she says quietly. "With Mom and Dad."
I nod. "Yeah."
She stares at the floor. "What are you gonna do ?"
I take a breath. "I don't know. Not yet."
She nods slowly, fingers tightening around the fabric of her sleeves.
"But," I add, turning to face her, "no matter what I choose… it doesn't change us. Okay ?"
That's when her shoulders start shaking.
She doesn't sob. She doesn't make a sound.
Tears just fall, one after another, hitting the blanket.
"I thought you weren't coming back," she whispers. "For months." She wipes her face angrily. "And now you're back and I'm gonna lose you again."
My chest aches.
I gently pull her closer. "You're not losing me."
She shakes her head. "You'll leave. Different school. Different life."
"Hey," I say, firm but gentle. "We'd still live in the same house. I'd still be right here."
She doesn't look convinced.
"And even if we didn't," I add, a small smile tugging at my lips, "I could be back in, like… a second."
She looks up at me.
"…Show-off," she mutters.
I grin.
She lets out a tiny laugh through her tears, and that sound alone makes everything feel lighter.
She leans her head against my shoulder, fitting there like she's done it a thousand times before.
"I missed you," she says softly. "Every day."
I swallow. "You don't have to worry anymore."
She tilts her head slightly. "Why not ?"
"Because from now on," I say, nudging her gently, "I'm gonna annoy you twice as much."
She snorts despite herself. "You're already unbearable."
"See ?" I say proudly. "I'm making progress."
She laughs—really laughs this time—and for the first time all day, it feels like the world isn't ending.
I rest my head lightly against hers.
Whatever choice I make…
She's not facing it alone.
And neither am I.
—--
The days pass faster than I expect.
Faster than my parents' worried looks. Faster than the unanswered questions. Faster than the doubt that still tries to claw its way back into my chest.
And then I'm here.
Standing in front of my new school.
I stop for a moment and just… look.
The building rises in front of me like something pulled straight out of an old storybook—massive and imposing, built from deep red and brown brick, with pale stone details carved into its edges. Tall, narrow windows line the façade in perfect symmetry, reflecting the sky like watchful eyes. At the center, a large arched entrance dominates the structure, framed by decorative stonework and flanked by two square towers that give the place a faintly castle-like feel.
It doesn't look like a school.
It looks like a fortress pretending to be one.
The lawn in front is wide and carefully kept, a stretch of green broken by old trees whose branches sway gently in the breeze. Stone steps lead up to the main doors, worn smooth by decades of footsteps—generations of kids who probably felt the same mix of nerves and excitement tightening my chest right now.
I inhale slowly.
Around me, chaos feels… normal.
Kids my age hover a few feet off the ground, laughing as if gravity were optional. One boy sprints past me so fast he leaves a faint blur behind. Not as fast as me, but definitely a speedster. Somewhere to my left, there's a soft pop as someone teleports in, reappearing with a grin and a backpack slung over one shoulder.
No one stares.
No one panics.
For the first time since the lightning hit me, I don't feel like the weird one.
I start walking across the front lawn, hands in my pockets, trying not to overthink every step.
That's when I hear it.
"BARRY !"
I look up.
Luke is standing by the front doors.
Brown hair catching the light, posture relaxed, arms already spread wide like he's about to tackle me in a hug. He looks… better. Still carrying something heavy behind his eyes, but there's warmth there too. Real warmth.
Before I can say anything, he jogs down the steps toward me.
"I knew it," he says, grinning like an idiot. "The second I heard you were transferring here, I told everyone I didn't care what class I was late for—I was gonna be the first one to welcome you."
A few students nearby slow down, curiosity tugging at them. Whispers ripple through the air. A speedster and Golden Boy hugging in front of the main entrance apparently counts as entertainment.
I don't care.
I step forward and hug him back, hard.
"It's good to see you," I say honestly.
He claps a hand on my shoulder as we pull apart. "You have no idea how relieved I am you're here." Then he tilts his head, eyes sparkling. "Come on. I'm giving you the tour. Front door privilege."
He gestures grandly toward the entrance.
I laugh despite myself and follow him up the steps.