We enter the staff room, and I head over to the board to look at everyone's start times. I turn to look at Mitch. He grabs the diary, writes in my overtime, and signs us in with his usual casual confidence. I glance back at the board. Mike is starting at 9, and Lollie is starting at 8:30.
"Yup, Phil was right. 8 am for Sam and Dom," Mitch says. I jump in fright—I didn't hear him walk over to me. My reactions have been slower lately, like my brain's processing things half a second behind. It's like I'm stuck buffering, watching things happen just out of sync. Sometimes I forget what it felt like to be fully alert, fully present—before… everything changed. Before I stopped being what people would call normal. Before my heart stopped beating.
"Yeah," I say, trying to mask the jolt that ran through me.
"Come on, I'll show you what to do on an open-up shift." Mitch smiles as he heads to the door, acting like he didn't notice how spaced out I was.
We walk over to the first ride. The park's still dead quiet, not even the rustle of wind yet. It's the kind of silence that feels thick, like it's holding something back—like the calm before something breaks. The buildings loom a little too still. The sun's only just started to rise properly, casting long shadows across the empty walkways.
Mitch jogs up to the platform, boots clanging on the metal. I follow behind, slower, more cautious. My steps don't echo the same way his do. There's something off about my presence, like the air doesn't quite react to me anymore. Like I'm walking through the world but not in it.
He disappears into the booth while I wait on the platform, eyes already scanning the area. It's like second nature now—checking every bolt, corner, and crevice. Not just because I have to, but because it gives me something to focus on besides how off everything feels.
"See anything health and safety-wise?" Mitch shouts over.
I walk to the edge and look along the tracks. No debris, no loose parts, no sharp edges waiting to ruin someone's day. I kneel, lowering my weight, and check a spot near the corner where rubbish sometimes gathers. All clear.
"Test run it!" I shout back, stepping away from the edge, my boots scraping the metal with a sound too soft, like even noise avoids clinging to me.
Mitch puts the master key into the panel and presses the green button. The ride rumbles to life. We both watch it loop around the track, smooth and steady, like muscle memory. He turns the key and stops it after the first lap.
"Next one, Pup," he shouts as he steps out of the booth. He's smiling again—he always smiles around me.
I head down the slope back onto the path and wander to the next ride. It's the slides with mats. The platform creaks under my weight, but not as much as it used to. I climb up and look down each slide. No hazards. No rips, spills, or dodgy mat placements.
"Clear, Mitch!" I shout as I hop down, landing light on my feet. Lighter than I should. Like gravity's just a suggestion now.
"Nice one!" he shouts back.
We continue deeper into the park, ticking rides off as we go. Mitch marks them down methodically. It's easy to slip into the rhythm of it. Check, nod, move on. For once, my head isn't buzzing with static or dread. Just silence, structure, steps to follow.
By the time we head back to the staff room, we've done a full sweep. Mitch opens the door, and the hum of voices greets us—Phil, Sammy, and Dom talking about something trivial, probably morning gossip or a broken vending machine again. I hang back for a second before stepping in.
Mitch places the clipboard into the mount on the wall. "Your round now, guys," he says as he slumps into the nearest chair.
I sit across from him and pull out my phone. A text from Millie pops up—she says she has the stuff to spray me down. Not that I need it right now. The spell's holding, masking me well enough that no one looks twice. Not yet. Not unless they look too closely, or the glamour starts to fray.
I lock my phone and tuck it away. My gloves are in my bag, and I slide them on slowly. They're stiff, cold, slightly too clean. They help me feel less… exposed. Like maybe people won't notice that my hands are colder than they should be, or that sometimes they don't leave smudges when they should.
"Would you be ok working with Mike today?" Phil asks.
"Sure," I say. My voice is steady, but something inside me tightens—not pain, not fear. Just that low, dragging weight again. Like a knot under my ribs that never quite untangles.
Mitch looks up at Phil, then back to me. He's already on edge. He stands, fast.
"Are you sure it's a good idea, Phil?" he asks, his voice a little sharper than before.
"He needs to work with different people, Mitchell. You said it yourself—he's doing well," Phil says as he moves to the rota.
"He's had one day of training!" Mitch snaps.
"Okay. Dominic, are you ok to pair with Eden today?" Phil asks.
"Sure, Phil," Dom says, cheerful as ever.
Dom and Sam head out to do their checks. The door shuts behind them, and I swear the air changes. Heavy. Electric.
"Is there a problem with pairing me and Eden? I thought I was training him up?" Mitch says.
"Relationships in work are against our contract. You should know that since being in your supervisor role," Phil fires back.
I sit still. Not even blinking. The cold in my gut spreads, and I wonder how Phil knows. We've done nothing. Not here. Not where anyone could see.
"What gives you that idea?" Mitch laughs, dry.
"I'm all for gay rights, but rules are rules," Phil mutters.
"Just because he stayed over at mine? We had drinks last night. Plus, we were getting on as friends, so please don't assume," Mitch says, more serious now.
"Last time I checked… I wasn't into men…" I interrupt, my tone flat. My voice carries more chill than I intended.
They both look at me. I shrug. Maybe I should've kept my mouth shut, but I'm sick of people acting like they know me. Like I'm still that same boy with a pulse and a heartbeat and a future.
Phil rolls his eyes and sighs. "Fine. I may have jumped the gun a bit. Training is for a week. Just make sure he's prepared to be on his own next week," he says.
Mitch nods. He turns and gives me a small smile. I return it, barely. There's something comforting in his presence. Like I'm not as lost when he's around.
We head out and make our way toward our assigned ride. The path stretches out ahead, empty and clean. Phil veers off to his office, leaving us alone again.
"Shame you can't do anything here," I say, half-laughing, trying to shake off the tension.
"We can still flirt," Mitch grins, throwing me a wink.
He runs the ride for a final test. I stand near the booth, watching. My reflection flickers in the panel's glass. For a second, I see what they see—normal, maybe. But there's something wrong in my eyes. They don't catch the light right. My skin's duller, like I've been drained of something I can't get back.
"Hoping for a good day today, Pup!" Mitch shouts over to me.
"Me too!" I shout back, though I'm not sure what a 'good day' really looks like anymore.