Six months later…
In the quiet town of Artimia, where the wind danced through tall grass and the sky always seemed too blue for trouble, a boy named Theodore Gray was already late.
In the smallest room of a weathered house near the edge of town, chaos reigned. Clothes littered the floor like casualties from a war only Theo understood.
Crumpled sketches were plastered across the walls—dragons, dreamscapes, and old childhood monsters—faded but still clinging to life.
Birdsong filtered through a cracked window.
Somewhere beyond the hills, a dog barked. The rustle of trees outside whispered softly, brushing against the paper-thin walls like nature itself was trying to wake him.
But Theo was already up—half-dressed, shirt misbuttoned, hair lopsided, and frantically hopping on one leg while trying to find the other sock.
His room smelled like pencil shavings, dust, and teenage boy—barely masked by the citrusy cologne he'd sprayed in a panic two minutes ago.
He caught his reflection in the mirror above his desk and smirked. His hair had a low taper fade and was slightly fluffed. His tie was uneven, and his eyes were still crusty from sleep.
"Lookin' dangerous," he said to himself, winking before bursting out laughing.
His laugh always came too fast, like a hiccup he couldn't hold in.
Then—
Tick. Tick. Tick.
The antique clock above his desk forced reality back at him.
"Theo! You're going to be late!" came the familiar call from beyond the door. His mother's voice—soft as wind chimes, warm as morning toast.
"I'm coming, I'm coming!" he yelled, grabbing his bag and lunging for the hallway.
He didn't make it far.
A blur of fur shot past his legs, and Theo stumbled.
"Whoa—Mimi!"
The family cat—a sleek, black menace with attitude to spare—darted past him like she owned the house.
Theo scooped her up, cradling her like a baby. "You've got to stop trying to kill me every morning, you psycho."
Mimi licked his chin in apology, purring like she'd won.
The scent of breakfast hit him like a punch—eggs, toast, spice, something buttery and golden. His stomach roared louder than any alarm clock.
By the time he reached the kitchen, the scene was already set.
Alvin Gray sat at the head of the table, silent as always. A wall of a man—broad shoulders, thick beard, the kind of presence that made silence feel sacred.
Theo plopped into the seat next to him, tearing into breakfast. Tears of delight streamed from his eyes as he savored every bite. Fluffy eggs, toast smeared with jam, and crisp bacon kissed by heaven.
Alvin held a book in one hand and, without looking, reached for the last piece of bacon on Theo's plate with the other.
"Come on. I was gonna eat that," Theo muttered.
Alvin grunted. "You eat like a feral dog. Be grateful I saved you from yourself."
Theo grinned, wolfing down his breakfast anyway.
"See? Emotional damage cured by breakfast."
"More like delusions cured by backhands."
Theo chuckled, draining a glass of water and wiping his mouth. He stood and slung his bag over his shoulder. "Alright, I'm out—"
"Hold it!" said the voice again.
Alicia Gray stepped into the room like sunlight through a window—smiling, arms open, hair cascading in long curls that carried the scent of lavender and something sweet.
"Where do you think you're going without saying goodbye?"
"Mom, not now—"
He was already wrapped in her hug.
No hug in the world could match the safety of hers.
Her arms were a force field against the world. She pressed her cheek against his. "You're growing up so fast..."
"You say this every year."
"And I mean it every year." She twirled him like a toddler. "When did you get so tall?"
Theo groaned. "I swear if David sees this, I'm never hearing the end of it."
She let him go with a laugh, and he staggered back like he'd just been KO'd in a boxing match.
From behind his book, Alvin finally spoke. "Theodore."
Theo straightened up. "Yeah, Dad?"
His father set the book down, stood up, adjusted his son's crooked tie, and flicked him gently on the forehead.
"You're not a kid anymore. I want you to start thinking about the kind of man you want to become."
Theo blinked, caught off guard. His dad rarely said much, but when he did, it stuck.
"Y-yeah. Yes, sir."
"Happy birthday. Now get going before you're late."
Theo stepped outside and let the sunlight wash over him. The door clicked shut behind him.
The world felt new.
Different.
He walked through Artimia like he always did—down the dirt path that curved past the wheat fields and wildflowers, where everything smelled like wet earth and fresh leaves.
After a light rain the night before, the ground was soft and the air sweet. Petals clung to his shoes as he walked.
Ahead, an old sign read:
Welcome to Artimia
Population: Small. Heart: Big.
He smiled. Same as always.
He thought about what his father had said, about the kind of man he wanted to be. It was hard to know, and the world didn't exactly give him many options.
But he figured if he could make people laugh, keep things light, and protect the people he cared about—maybe that was enough.
He ran past the river that glinted like glass, waving at its slow, swirling surface. Then—at the bend in the trail—two familiar figures came into view.
"Good morning, Mr. and Mrs. Gramm!"
The old couple strolled arm in arm, squinting at him through the sun.
"Slow down, son!" Mr. Gramm barked, huffing. "You tryin' to give this old man a heart attack?"
"Sorry, sir!" Theo called. "Running late again!"
"Again? At this rate, you'll be late for your funeral one day!" he cackled, doubling over with laughter.
Mrs. Gramm rolled her eyes. "Ignore this senile old man. Happy birthday, dear. Now hurry off to school."
"Do your best, son," Mr. Gramm said with a firm pat on Theo's back.
Theo smiled. "You got it."
A few more steps—and there they were.
David Hartwright. Dawn Cypress.
Waiting by the fork in the road like fate had circled the day.
David stood slouched against a tree as if he owned it.
A year older than Theo and half a head taller, he looked like a redheaded scarecrow brought to life—all mop-top hair and taped-up glasses that somehow clung to his nose despite the breeze.
His uniform blazer hung lazily off one shoulder like he didn't care about the rules. One hand was in his pocket, the other dangling by his side as he casually kicked a pebble with his shoe.
His smile was lazy but warm. When Theo approached, he didn't move; he just raised a hand in a slow wave.
"Yo," Theo greeted him.
"Took you long enough."
"You know how my mom gets. One hug turns into a hostage situation."
Then he turned to Dawn.
She was shorter than both of them, but she carried herself like someone taller— someone older.
Dawn stood straight with her hands behind her back. Her uniform was perfectly pressed, not a wrinkle out of place. Every button was polished. Every gesture was precise.
Her raven curls were pinned neatly behind her ears with a purple ribbon like even the wind didn't dare mess with them.
She was Theo's age, sure, but a few months older, and she never let him forget it.
Something about her presence always made Theo's chest tighten a little. Not in a scary way, but in a way that made him forget how to stand properly.
Like the air got heavier when she was nearby. She had a glow to her—not the loud kind.
More like the quiet before a storm. Like the hush that rolled through a forest before the trees started to sway.
Beautiful. Intimidating. Unreachable.
Most guys didn't even try to talk to her. Theo didn't know if that made him brave… or just incredibly stupid.
Sometimes, he wondered what she'd say if she knew how he felt. Then again—saying it out loud? That wasn't just risky business.
That was emotional suicide.
"Hey, Dawn. Good morni—"
Theo didn't get the chance to finish before a flurry of color burst into the air. Confetti and flower petals rained down in a sudden explosion of cheer.
"Happy birthday!"
The surprise smacked him like joy in powdered form. Petals clung to his shoulders and hair as he stood there, stunned, then broke into a crooked grin.
Dawn gave him a soft smile, her hands still half-raised from the toss. "Good morning, Theo."
"You guys suck."
David smirked, flicking a stray petal off his shoulder. "You thought we forgot, didn't you?"
Theo laughed, brushing the mess from his curls. "Honestly? Kinda did. Even I forgot."
"How could we?" Dawn asked, the corners of her eyes crinkling with amusement. "It's the same day every year."
David elbowed him playfully. "Better enjoy it while you can. Next year, who knows? We might not be feeling so generous and pretend you don't exist."
Theo laughed. "Harsh, but seriously… thanks."
The three of them started walking without needing to say it. Shoulders bumping now and then.
Above them, a bird sliced through the sky, wings stretched wide against the morning blue sky.
Theo watched it soar, and for a moment, something light bloomed in his chest. Like if he closed his eyes, he could follow it—free, weightless, untouchable.
The three of them continued—laughing, teasing, completely unaware of how soon their world was about to fall apart.