"Ethan! Ethan! Ethan!"
He groaned, pressing his face deeper into the pillow. His room was still dark, the curtains drawn tight against the London morning.
"What?" His voice was rough, sleep still clinging to him.
Jennie stood in the doorway, arms crossed. She was dressed in a crisp blazer and black slacks, her hair pulled back into a tight ponytail. "How do I look?" she asked, spinning slightly.
Ethan squinted at her. "Really ugly," he muttered, rolling onto his back.
She let out a dry laugh. "Haha. Be serious. I've got an interview today."
"Don't care." He threw an arm over his eyes, blocking out the light.
Jennie's patience snapped. "You should care. I'm trying to get a job to take care of you and Mom. The least you could do is act like you give a damn."
Ethan exhaled sharply through his nose."For God's sake, I'm already in my second year," he said, as if that explained everything.
"Yeah, you are," Jennie shot back. "And term started three weeks ago.
The college called . Do you think Mom would be happy about this? Dad wouldn't want to see you like—"
"Well, Dad can't hear—he's dead," Ethan snarled, sitting up so fast his vision swam. "And Mom? Maybe Mom won't be here to listen anymore either."
The words hung between them like a slap.
Jennie's face twisted. "Shut up," she whispered, her voice cracking. "Just… go to college."
She turned and stormed out, but Ethan heard the quiet hitch in her breath as she left. Through the half-open door, he caught a glimpse of her pressing a hand to her mouth, shoulders shaking as she leaned against the hallway wall.
For a second, guilt twisted in his gut. Then he clenched his jaw and fell back onto the bed, throwing an arm over his eyes.
Silence.
Long, heavy silence.
Eventually, he dragged himself up.
Ethan pulled on a plain black hoodie, loose joggers, and scuffed sneakers—armor against the world. Downstairs, he paused at the front door, shoving his headphones over his ears.
"Here we fucking go," he muttered, stepping outside.
The streets of London were alive—cars honking, people chatting, the distant hum of the Underground. But Ethan drowned it all out with *Acknowledge Me blasting through his headphones. He kept his head down, shoulders hunched, weaving through the crowd like a ghost.
Imperial college of London loomed ahead—an old, red-brick building with too many memories. He avoided eye contact, dodging greetings, sidestepping groups of laughing students like they were landmines.
By mid-morning, Ethan found himself in the canteen, slumped at an empty table. He wasn't hungry. He just needed a place to exist without being seen.
Then—
"Ethan."
His fingers twitched. What's this? Argh.
He forced a smirk, looking up. "What's up, bro?"
Jonah grinned, sliding into the seat across from him. "Bro, I haven't seen you lately. I miss you bro."
"Yeah, well… just some shit I've been dealing with," Ethan said, shrugging. "You know how it is."
"Broooo," Jonah laughed, nudging him.
Ethan chuckled, but his thoughts were bitter: Jonah, my best friend. The best in every way. But I don't know if he's here because he wants to be or just because we've both got dead parents and a fucked-up life.
"So how's Becky?" Jonah asked, biting into an apple.
Ethan's chest tightened. "Uh, she's cool. Everything's… chill."
Jonah raised a brow. "You sure, bro?"
Life isn't really all that. My life's fucked. So is this world. Shit, Becky… Becky—
"Broooo," Jonah dragged him back.
"I'm right here," Ethan lied. "Chill. Everything's great." He stood abruptly. "I'm gonna go. Just…"
"Just?" Jonah frowned.
Ethan didn't answer. He just walked away.
"Ethan? Ethan?"
Jennie's voice echoed through the empty flat when she returned that evening. "I got hired! Ethan?"
Silence.
She paused, then exhaled in relief. "He actually went to college. Yes. Maybe… maybe it'll be fine soon." A small, hopeful smile tugged at her lips.
"Let's just cook what he loves," she murmured to herself, pulling out pots and pans. Then, quieter, "Right, Mom and Dad?"
For a second, her face crumpled—raw and broken. But she caught herself, shaking her head. "No, Jennie. You can't look like this. Ethan's watching."
She forced another smile, blinking back tears as she cooked.
Dinner was ready by seven.
Ethan wasn't back.
Hours ticked by.
"Ethan, where are you?" Jennie whispered, staring at the clock.
11 PM.
The food was cold.
The flat was silent.
And Ethan still wasn't home.