The smell of sesame chicken and cardboard greeted Julian as he stepped into his empty kitchen. He set the takeout container on the counter, the silence of the house pressing against his eardrums. Through the window, the Dunphy's backyard glowed with golden evening light, alive with movement and noise.
His phone buzzed. A text from his mother: "Settled in? Let me know if you need anything."
Julian stared at the message, fingers hovering over the keyboard. Three drafted replies sat unsent in his notes:
"Everything's fine." (Too cold)
"I miss you." (Too needy)
"When will you visit?" (Too hopeful)
He settled on: "All good." and immediately regretted it.
A sharp knock shattered his thoughts. Julian opened the door to find Luke grinning up at him, a smear of chocolate (or possibly dirt) across his left cheek.
"Mom says come over now or the meatloaf'll get cold," Luke announced, then leaned in conspiratorially. "Also, Alex is freaking out about you."
Julian raised an eyebrow. "Good freak-out or bad freak-out?"
Luke considered this. "Like when she found out they discontinued her favorite graphing calculator."
The Dunphy household assaulted Julian's senses the moment he stepped inside - a cacophony of clattering dishes, overlapping voices, and the unmistakable sound of a small dog skidding across hardwood floors.
Phil waved enthusiastically from the stove, where he was attempting to flip a pancake with disastrous results. "Julian! Perfect timing - you can be my sous-chef!"
Claire balanced three plates and a wailing baby monitor in her arms. She shot Julian an apologetic look. "Ignore him. Just...find a seat that isn't sticky."
Alex already occupied one end of the dining table, glaring at her textbook like it had personally offended her. She didn't look up as Julian sat across from her, but her pencil began tapping in a perfect Fibonacci sequence - tap-tap-tap, tap-tap-tap.
Haley materialized in the chair beside him, smelling like vanilla and hairspray. "So, genius," she whispered, leaning close enough that her hair brushed his arm, "what's my tell?"
Julian didn't miss a beat. "You twist your hair when you're lying. And you only text first when you're bored."
Haley's mouth fell open. "Okay, witchcraft."
The dinner that followed was a masterclass in controlled chaos:
• Luke attempted to balance peas on his nose while simultaneously interrogating Julian about whether he thought zombies could do algebra
• Phil delivered an impassioned monologue about the "magic" of staplers ("They're the unsung heroes of the office, Julian!")
• Claire conducted a subtle interrogation under the guise of polite conversation ("So, Julian, what exactly does your guardian in Florida do?")
Halfway through the meal, Alex abruptly slid her physics homework across the table. "Prove it wasn't a fluke," she challenged.
The table fell silent. Even Haley paused mid-text.
Julian studied the problem - a brutal set of quantum mechanics equations - then grabbed a napkin. His pen flew across the thin paper as he circled Alex's key mistake: "You treated the electron as a particle here. It's a wave."
Alex stared at the napkin, her competitive fury warring with reluctant admiration. After a long moment, she muttered, "Huh," which Julian recognized as high praise.
Later, as he helped clear plates, Haley cornered him by the stairs. "So you're actually smart," she said, leaning against the banister. "Like, Alex-smart."
Julian shrugged. "Different kind of smart."
Haley studied him - really studied him - for the first time. "You think I'm dumb."
It wasn't a question. Julian met her gaze evenly. "I think you pretend to be."
A beat. Then Haley laughed, sharp and surprised. "Okay, ouch." But she didn't deny it.
That night, as Julian walked home under the porch light, his phone buzzed:
Unknown Number: "hey its haley. ur not as annoying as i thought"
He smiled. Then -
Second Text: "alex says ur still annoying tho"
A third buzz:
New Unknown Number: "This is Alex. Do not help Haley cheat on her chem test."
Julian laughed aloud, the sound startling in his quiet house. For the first time in years, he felt something unfamiliar - the warmth of belonging.
Through the window, he caught a glimpse of the Dunphys still gathered around their table, arguing good-naturedly about something. Their voices spilled into the night, bright and alive. Julian pressed his palm against the cool glass, the ache in his chest both sweet and sharp.