Kyle pulled off his favorite worn-in shirt and, out of habit, tossed it onto the bed in a crumpled heap. Instead, he put on another one — clean, unworn, dark green, with Satoru Gojo printed across the front.
He had already turned away towards the door, but a second later he stopped. His gaze slid back to the bed.
Letting out a quiet breath, Kyle walked back over, picked the shirt up, shook it out, folded it neatly, and put it away in the closet.
Then his eyes dropped to his loose house pants. He pressed his lips together, thinking.
A few seconds passed.
"... yeah, that would be too much," he muttered quietly to himself.
In the bathroom, Kyle stopped in front of the mirror. The same tired-looking teenager stared back at him — gray-green eyes dulled by something that had settled there long ago, always hidden beneath lowered bangs.
He had been hiding his eyes for so long that he barely noticed it anymore.
Fair hair, pale skin, ordinary features — everything about him came together into something deliberately forgettable. Exactly the way he wanted it.
Nothing remarkable. Nothing that made people look twice.
Because in his family, standing out was dangerous.
For years, relatives had picked at him over the smallest things — sometimes with irritation, sometimes with barely concealed contempt. The unwanted heir. The outcast. A mistake people would rather not acknowledge.
So Kyle had learned how to disappear. And over time, he had become very good at it.
He smoothed down a stray strand of hair — though it didn't really help, the strands immediately fell back into place. He looked at himself one more time before turning the bathroom light off and heading back to his room.
The next few hours disappeared into code. Or rather, they should have. He couldn't focus the way he usually did. His attention kept drifting back to his phone.
It was almost like he wasn't sure what he wanted more — a message from Megan saying she'd be home soon… or one saying she'd be even later.
The sharp sound of the doorbell cut through the silence.
Kyle yanked his headphones off and nearly threw them onto the desk. He stood up just as fast — then froze.
For several seconds, he simply stood there in front of the monitor, staring at the unmoving lines of code with a blank, unfocused gaze.
Then he slowly shook his hands out, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. When he opened them again, the familiar detached expression had already settled back onto his face.
Without hurrying, Kyle left his room and headed downstairs.
At the front door, he stopped. He reached for the handle — but his fingers hovered just short of touching it.
He didn't open it right away.
The bell rang again. Too loud in the stillness of the house.
"Hi," Kyle said softly, his hand still resting on the handle.
"Hey," Darren answered easily.
Kyle finally opened the door.
Darren stood there with a small smile already on his face — too open, too alive. For a split second, Kyle almost smiled back.
He stopped himself — or almost did. He pressed his lips together quickly, forcing his expression back under control.
"Come in," he said quietly, a little too flat.
Stepping aside, Kyle let him in. The door shut behind them with a dull click.
Already heading toward the stairs, he said over his shoulder:
"Megan hasn't texted when she'll be back yet. You can wait in the kitchen or the living room."
No answer came.
Kyle frowned and finally turned around. Darren was still standing in the same spot, calmly watching him.
"And you?" he asked.
Kyle flinched slightly.
"What about me?"
"You're just gonna leave me wandering around the house alone?" The corners of Darren's mouth curved faintly. "What if I steal something. Or break something."
"Doubt it," Kyle answered automatically. "You're a McAll—"
He cut himself off sharply.
Something flickered across Darren's face. Fast enough that it could've been imagined.
"…you're not a stranger," Kyle corrected quickly. "You're Megan's friend."
Darren slowly folded his arms across his chest. Most of the smile disappeared.
"So you're abandoning your guest to his fate?"
His voice sounded quieter than usual. Almost disappointed.
Kyle looked away and crossed his arms too. For a few seconds, he stared somewhere downward — maybe at the toes of his slippers, maybe at the marble veining beneath them.
He exhaled quietly through his nose.
"The cleaning staff is coming soon," he finally said, choosing his words carefully. "I don't wanna get in their way."
What he actually wanted to say was something else entirely.
I don't want to run into them.
I don't like staying downstairs.
I don't like feeling like a stranger here, in my own house.
But none of that made it out loud.
Darren kept looking at him calmly. Patiently. Waiting.
"And your room?" he finally asked.
Kyle looked up.
"My room?"
"Yeah."
A faint crease appeared between Kyle's brows. He stared off to the side absently, already about to answer when his phone vibrated in his pocket.
He pulled it out immediately.
Meg:
this line literally never ends. i've been waiting for hours and only made it halfway 😭
A few seconds later, another message came in:
god i hate bureaucracy
And almost immediately after that:
probably gonna be late. do something with Darren, don't leave him alone
Kyle rolled his eyes and typed back quickly:
Kyle:
i wasn't planning to leave him alone
The reply came instantly.
Meg:
sure you weren't -_-
Kyle let out an irritated breath.
A few seconds later, he typed again anyway:
Kyle:
okay. got it. we'll wait for you
He shoved the phone back into his pocket and looked up again.
"Megan?" Darren asked.
Kyle nodded.
"She's gonna be late."
A brief silence followed. Kyle bit his lip before finally saying, quieter this time,
"Fine… come on."
He turned toward the stairs without looking back. And as he did, he didn't notice the slow smile spreading across Darren's face.