The room buzzed with excitement, the air thick with the scent of curiosity. His classmates looked at him with newfound respect, their whispers now filled with wonder rather than mockery. Alastair felt a warmth spread through him, a sense of belonging that was as foreign as the courage he had found that morning.
Destiny's eyes never left him, her gaze a mix of surprise and something else—admiration, perhaps? He couldn't be sure. But as the bell rang, signaling the end of class, she was the first one to approach him, her hand outstretched. "You're a math wizard," she said, her voice filled with genuine amazement. "I had no idea."
She took his hand, feeling a jolt of electricity shoot up his arm. "It's just numbers," he murmured, his cheeks reddening. "Anyone can do it if they practice enough."
Destiny's eyes searched his, and without warning, she leaned in and pressed her lips to his. The kiss was soft, a butterfly's landing that seemed to shake the very foundation of the world. Alastair's heart stopped, his mind a blur of shock and elation. When she pulled away, she grinned at him, her eyes sparkling. "Maybe so," she said, her voice light and teasing. "But not everyone can do what you just did."
The rest of the day was a blur of lessons and awkward glances. Eren and his group kept their distance, their eyes never leaving him for long. He felt a shift in the tides, a power shift that was as palpable as the electricity that had zipped through him when Destiny kissed him. The whispers had changed, now they were filled with a mix of awe and confusion. Who was Alastair to stand up to a bully and solve an unsolvable math problem?
During the final bell, Alastair gathered his books, his mind racing with the events of the day. The hallways were a sea of faces, each one looking at him differently now. Some with respect, others with wariness. He stumbled over his own feet, his thoughts tripping over each other like a clumsy dancer.
As he approached the bus, the driver's eyes met his in the mirror, and for the first time, a smile creased the woman's weathered face. "How was school today?" she asked, her voice a gentle rumble that seemed to shake the very seats of the bus.
Alastair paused, his hand hovering over the handrail. "It was good," he said, the words feeling strange in his mouth. It had been a rollercoaster of a day, but somehow, it had been good. The taste of Destiny's lip's still lingered on his, and the memory of Eren's apology was a warm ember in his chest.
The bus driver's smile grew wider, her eyes twinkling. "Got yourself a new fan club, I see," she said, nodding towards the group of students who had gathered at the front of the bus, watching him with a mix of curiosity and admiration. "Eren Atkinson bother you today?"
Alastair felt a flicker of anger at the mere mention of Eren's name. "No, he didn't," he said firmly, stepping onto the bus. The driver nodded, her eyes filled with a knowing look that made him feel both seen and understood. She closed the door behind him, and the engine roared to life as they pulled away from the school.
The journey home felt surreal, as if he were floating above the bus rather than sitting in the back. When he finally arrived at his stop, the world outside was bathed in a soft, golden light, the setting sun casting long shadows across the quiet street. He walked up the path to his house, the sound of his own footsteps echoing in his ears. The windows were dark, the curtains drawn tightly shut. His father wasn't home.
Alastair fumbled with his keys, his mind reeling with the day's events. As he stepped into the house, the silence was deafening, a stark contrast to the cacophony of whispers and footsteps that had filled his school. He tossed his bag onto the floor and collapsed onto the couch, his thoughts a tangled mess of doubt and excitement.
Then, faintly, he heard it—soft, muffled sobs. His heart lurched. It was his mother's voice, a sound he hadn't heard in years. The house had always been a bastion of stoicism under his father's rule, a place where emotions were buried deep, unspoken and unacknowledged. Yet here it was, a crack in the fortress, a whisper of humanity seeping through the walls.
"Mom?" He called out, his voice tentative, unsure of the response he'd receive. The crying grew louder, more desperate. He followed the sound to her room, his hand shaking as he pushed the door open. There she was, his mother, her usually impeccable hair a wild tangle around her face, her eyes red and puffy.
"Mom, what's wrong?" He rushed to her side, his heart thudding in his chest like a drum. He hadn't seen her like this since... since the last time his father had lost his temper. But she had never talked about it, never allowed him to see her pain.
Her eyes snapped to his, filled with a panic that was palpable. She took a shaky breath, trying to compose herself. "It's your father," she said, her voice a trembling whisper. "He's been in an accident. He's in the hospital."
The words hit him like a freight train, the air suddenly too thick to breathe. The hospital. It was a place Alastair had hoped to never visit again, a place that held a lifetime of fear and pain. The room swam around him, the walls closing in.