Mom made his favorite again.
She does that. Like food fixes things.
It doesn't. But the food's good, so whatever.
Dad's already at the table. Tired. The usual.
They eat quietly. Comfortable silence. Nobody mentioning the obvious.
"How was the library?" Mom asks eventually.
"Riveting. Read about the Third Mana War. Again."
"Did you see your friends?"
*Did you see the people who pity you?*
"Andrian stopped by."
"That's nice."
"Is it?" Grins. "Pretty sure he just wanted to feel better about himself."
"Dorian—"
"Kidding. Mostly."
Dad clears his throat. "The academy sent a letter."
He stops chewing.
"They want confirmation you're attending general studies."
General studies. The "we feel bad kicking you out completely" classes.
"Sure. Why not. What else am I doing?"
"You don't have to—"
"It's fine, Dad. Really. I'll sit in the back. Make sarcastic comments. It'll be great."
Dad doesn't look convinced.
Nobody does.
They finish eating. He helps clean up. Kisses Mom goodnight. Nods to Dad.
Goes back upstairs.
---
His room. His books. His mess.
But not tonight.
Can't focus. Head's too loud.
He lies on his bed. Stares at the ceiling.
Saturday night. Eight o'clock.
Outside his window, Andrian's light is on. Movement in the room. Getting ready for something.
A minute later, Andrian's front door opens.
He sits up. Looks out.
Andrian heads down the street. Dressed nice.
Where?
Then he sees.
Melissa's door opens. She steps out. Also dressed nice.
They meet at the sidewalk. She smiles. Says something. Andrian laughs.
They walk off together.
Saturday night plans.
He watches them disappear around the corner.
Then lies back down.
Stares at the ceiling again.
They didn't invite him.
They used to. First year after the test. Every weekend. "Want to come?" "We're going to the market." "There's a festival."
He always said no.
Eventually, they stopped asking.
*Good.*
Easier this way.
He doesn't need—
His thoughts stop.
*Yeah, you do.*
He shuts his eyes.
"Shut up," he tells himself.
Gets up. Can't just lie here.
Grabs a book. *Introduction to Alchemical Theory.*
Sits at his desk. Opens it.
Reads the same paragraph three times. Doesn't absorb a word.
Closes it.
Grabs another. *The Songs of the Northern Tribes.*
Flips through. Stops on a page with lyrics.
Reads them. Tries to imagine the melody.
Starts humming. Makes up a tune that probably isn't right.
Sings it quietly.
Sounds terrible.
Keeps singing anyway.
Fills the room with noise.
Better than silence.
Better than thinking.
Gets through the first verse before his voice cracks.
Stops. Closes the book.
Quiet again.
The worst kind.
He looks at the clock.
Only eight thirty.
Hours until he can reasonably sleep.
Hours of just... this.
He gets up. Changes into sleep clothes even though it's early.
Not like he has anywhere to be.
Climbs back into bed. Pulls the covers up.
Stares at the wall.
Thinks about Melissa and Andrian walking away.
Thinks about the clone coming back.
Any day now.
Thinks about—
*Stop thinking.*
He closes his eyes.
Starts humming again. Quietly. Just to fill the silence.
Some made-up melody. No words. No meaning.
Just sound.
Sleep doesn't come for a while.
When it does, he dreams about empty rooms and friends who walk away.
---
Sunday morning comes too early.
Wakes up before anyone else. Stares at the ceiling.
Hears his parents moving around downstairs. Getting ready for the day.
Neither will ask what he's doing.
They stopped asking.
Gets up. Showers. Dresses.
Looks in the mirror.
Sixteen. Average everything. Silver hair. Blue eyes.
"Looking good, champ," he tells his reflection. "Real winner."
His reflection doesn't argue.
Goes downstairs.
Mom's in the kitchen. Surprised to see him.
"Morning, sweetheart. You're up early."
"Couldn't sleep. Existential dread. The usual."
She frowns. "Dorian—"
"Kidding." Grins. "Mostly."
She wants to push. Doesn't.
Makes him breakfast instead.
They eat together. Quiet.
"I love you," she says suddenly.
He looks up.
She's tearing up.
*Great.*
"Love you too, Mom."
"I know things are hard—"
"They're fine."
"But—"
"Mom. Really. I'm good." Smiles. The reassuring one. "Don't worry about me."
She doesn't believe him.
Dad comes down. Sees them. Gets his coat without a word.
Pauses at the door.
"Dorian."
"Yeah?"
"We're proud of you."
Doesn't know what to say to that.
Dad leaves before he has to.
---
The house is empty again.
He stands in the kitchen.
Quiet.
Good.
Goes outside. Early morning. Cold. Empty street.
Sits on his front steps.
Pulls out a cigarette.
Started three months ago. Stupid habit. But it gives him something to do.
Lights it. Inhales.
The burn is sharp. Clears his head.
Across the street, Melissa's house is dark.
Next door, Andrian's light is on. Early riser.
Takes another drag.
This is his life now.
Sitting alone. Smoking. Waiting for the clone to return.
Could be today. Could be next month. Could be next year.
Could be worse.
Probably.
---
*Movement.*
Door opening.
*Melissa.*
*Shit.*
Drops the cigarette. Steps on it. Stands.
"Morning."
She stares at the crushed cigarette. Then at him.
"You were smoking."
"Yeah."
Silence.
She wants to ask. He can see it. *When? Why? Are you okay?*
But she doesn't.
Smart. None of it would help.
"I got a break," she says instead. Changes the subject. "Whole week off. First one in... a while."
"That's good."
"Yeah." Shifts her weight. Uncomfortable. "We could—I could come by. We could catch up. Properly."
*We can make time for you.*
They both know it's not true. She'll be too tired. Too behind on sleep. Too many other things.
But she says it anyway.
And he doesn't call her on it.
"Sure. That'd be nice."
*Lies.*
Both of them.
She looks relieved. Guilty. Like she knows he doesn't believe her but appreciates him not saying it.
"I should go. Sunday training now."
"Yeah. Go."
She hesitates. Opens her mouth. Closes it.
Then just—
"I miss you."
The words hang there.
He could say it back. Could be honest for once.
Instead—
"Miss you too. You're way more fun than the library books. Much better dialogue."
She almost smiles. Doesn't quite make it.
Then leaves.
He stands on his porch. Watches her go down the street toward the academy.
Pulls out another cigarette.
Lights it.
"I miss you too," he says to the empty street.
Means it this time.
Takes a drag.
The smoke tastes like regret.
He finishes the cigarette. Crushes it under his heel.
Looks at the two crushed butts on his porch.
"This is fine," he tells himself.
The lie doesn't even convince him anymore.
But he keeps saying it anyway.
What else is there?