Chapter Text
The story began at the start of the new school year. Twan had somehow managed to survive his last year of middle school, scraping by just enough to land himself in one of the highest academic classes in the school. His parents, while proud, were mildly surprised that he had made it this far without any major stumbles. Twan wasn’t exactly shy, but he also wasn’t the kind of person to command attention. He fit neatly into the middle of the spectrum—not overly present, but not someone who faded into the background either. He was the kind of boy who could walk through the halls without leaving a trail behind him, content to float by in his own unremarkable way.
Twan had a small group of friends, most of whom he’d known since elementary school or from soccer. The leader of their group was Rowan, a boy who had only recently reached five feet tall but carried himself as if he were six. Rowan had a sharpness to him, from his neatly combed brown hair to the way his deep, almost-black eyes could zero in on people who rubbed him the wrong way. Despite his small stature, he had a big personality, bolstered by a sharp tongue and a knack for delivering biting comebacks. Anyone who dared to poke fun at him or his family, particularly his sisters, would find themselves regretting it within moments.
The rest of the group was a mix of personalities, each adding something to their dynamic. Theo, the intellectual, was the brain of the group. He had a natural talent for history and English and always seemed to know the answer before anyone else. His appearance reflected his perfectionism—his long, golden-brown hair was always meticulously parted down the middle, falling just above his striking blue eyes. He had a habit of running his hand through it whenever he felt it might be out of place, an act that gave him an air of sophistication but also a touch of vanity.
Lucas and Finn, on the other hand, were the group’s comic relief. They weren’t the brightest, but they made up for it with their constant energy and humor. Both boys had short hair and light eyes that, while pleasant, weren’t particularly memorable. In truth, the two were so similar in both looks and personality that they were often regarded as a singular entity, the inseparable “duo” of the group.
Then there was Levi, the quiet outlier. The group’s odd number often left Levi without a partner during school activities, but he seemed unbothered by it. He had a quiet independence that allowed him to blend into other groups when necessary, and he never appeared to take the exclusion personally.
And finally, there was Twan himself. Twan thought of himself as completely ordinary. His blue eyes, blond hair, and the occasional bout of acne did little to distinguish him from the crowd. He was tall—that much he knew—but beyond that, he considered himself thoroughly unremarkable. His braces were nearly finished, his grades were decent, and he wasn’t particularly talented in sports or academics. He laughed at the silly jokes his classmates made, sometimes earned a poor grade, and mostly just drifted through life without much concern. For Twan, life was predictable. Comfortable. Smooth.
But that all changed after summer break.
The first day of school marked the beginning of Twan’s second year of high school. This year was different, though. He and several of his classmates had been placed into a new class, one composed of students who shared the same academic abilities. Out of the five levels in the school, Twan and his friends had been placed in the second-highest—a respectable position that made his parents proud.
The morning began as usual. Twan rode his bike to school, the wind whipping past him in a way that made the world feel calm and steady. Everything about the morning mirrored the previous year, and Twan took comfort in the familiar routine. He parked his bike near the school’s entrance and met up with his friends, who were already laughing and joking as they walked toward their lockers.
“Watch us get stuck with them this year,” one of his friends joked, rolling his eyes at a group of older boys loitering nearby.
“Or worse,” another chimed in dramatically, “this year is going to eat me alive.”
Twan laughed along with them, feeling at ease as he approached his locker. After wrestling with his jacket to get it to fit inside, he grabbed his books for the first class of the day and rejoined the group. They checked their schedules, exchanged a few more jokes, and headed toward their new classroom.
The stairs were crowded, as always, with older students shoving past in their usual rough way. Twan dodged a few eleventh-years and followed his friends up to the classroom. As he walked in, his eyes instinctively scanned the room, taking in the unfamiliar faces. He wondered which of them would become his friends, who might annoy him, and who he’d eventually ignore altogether.
Once everyone had settled into their seats, the teacher—a German instructor who also served as the class mentor—began calling attendance. It didn’t take long for her to notice that the class wasn’t entirely present. Two students were missing, a fact she pointed out with mild irritation. Just as she was about to ask if anyone had seen them, the door flew open, and the two missing boys rushed in.
Twan turned his head toward the first boy who entered, but there was nothing particularly interesting about him. He quickly lost interest and turned his gaze to the second boy.
And that’s when everything shifted.
Standing in the doorway was Charif.
Charif, with his confident stride and easy presence, walked into the room as if he belonged there. Twan didn’t know why, but something about Charif caught his attention in a way no one else had before.
In that moment, Twan didn’t realize it yet, but the boy standing in the doorway was about to change everything about his year.