"You need a shower. No, seriously. The stench is unreal."
Nicholas's eye twitched.
"I know. I just came to pick up my bag," he muttered, standing in Philip's backyard, speaking through the open window.
Philip didn't look amused. "What happened?" His tone wasn't curious—it was demanding.
Nicholas grimaced and looked away. Damn it. He'd been hoping Philip was asleep. His friend had a habit of leaving his window open at night, and Nicholas had counted on that little quirk to slip in, grab his bag, and leave before anyone could ask questions. No such luck.
He was a mess. His jacket was flipped inside out to hide the bloodstains, but that didn't do much for the deep red shirt underneath, which thankfully concealed the blood—at least visually. The real problem was the cut in the middle, split cleanly on both sides.
The rest of him? Filthy.
It wasn't the first time Philip had seen Nicholas come back looking like hell. If anything, it was almost a monthly occurrence. Nicholas had a bad habit of getting into fights, usually because he couldn't ignore people in trouble. Philip knew better than to lecture him about it—hell, he couldn't when Nicholas had saved his life. Saved Rose's too.
That was why Philip tried to be understanding. He didn't pry too much, didn't force Nicholas into uncomfortable conversations.
But this?
This was different.
Philip's glare sharpened as Nicholas continued to avoid his gaze.
The stench of blood was thick in the air, suffocating, like Nicholas had bathed in it.
And that silence—that refusal to meet his eyes—said more than any words could.
Philip inhaled slowly, forcing himself to stay calm. "Nicholas."
No response.
Philip's grip on the window frame tightened. "I'm not asking for some long explanation. I just need to know one thing." His voice was steady, but there was something underneath it—something tense. "Are you okay?"
Nicholas opened his mouth, then shut it again.
Lie. That was his first instinct. Tell Philip it was fine. That he was fine. That this wasn't anything new.
But the words wouldn't come.
He let out a slow breath. "...I'll tell you someday."
Philip's jaw tightened.
Nicholas leaned in, picking up his back, and turned away.
"But not today."
Philip watched as his friend hoisted the bag onto his shoulder and started walking off.
For a second, he considered chasing after him, stopping him, and forcing an answer from him.
But he didn't. Because deep down, he knew.
He wouldn't get an answer.
Not today… Possibly not ever.
***
"Hey, do you guys wanna check out this game?"
A young Philip stood in his classroom, holding up his phone in an attempt to engage his classmates. Before transferring, he had only a few friends. After transferring, he had none. So, what else could he do but try?
The response was immediate.
"U-uh… n-no." The group stammered, hastily walking away as if merely being near him was an embarrassment.
Philip's shoulders slumped. Do I really seem that weird to them?
Before he could dwell on it, a mocking voice cut through the air.
"We'll 'check' it out."
Philip barely had time to react before he felt his phone snatched from his grasp. He spun around to see two boys, both taller than him, grinning as they waved his phone over his head, taunting him.
"Hey…" Philip started, but his voice faltered.
"Sorry, sorry. You want it back? Too bad, we're using it now."
They didn't even bother to look at the game. Instead, they started scrolling through his browser, smirking as they started typing in the letters, P-O-R-
And then—
"Oi."
The single word cut through the air like a blade.
All three boys froze. The two bullies stiffened, their eyes flickering with genuine fear. Philip felt something, too—a strange disturbance, almost… inhuman.
Standing in front of them was a boy with messy black hair and eyes so dull they seemed lifeless. His pale complexion, combined with that vacant gaze, made him look less like a person and more like a corpse.
"Did you ask for permission first?" the boy asked, his voice eerily calm.
The bullies averted their eyes, but their confidence quickly returned as they took in their surroundings. They were in a classroom surrounded by students. Some were watching, and others were pretending not to. The next class was about to start.
"Yeah, yeah. Of course we did," one of them scoffed. "Don't get it twisted, Darklight. We're not afraid of you."
The boy—Darklight—tilted his head slightly. The action reminded Philip of an owl.
"Is there a reason for you to be afraid of me?" His voice was light, almost curious, but the way he spoke… it wasn't how a child should talk. There was something off about him.
Philip felt a chill.
It was unsettling. It wasn't just the dead eyes, the unnatural stillness—it was the way Darklight spoke as if he was more mature.
Philip widened his eyes in realization. The inhuman aura he felt was because the boy appeared more mature, like an adult. Perhaps that was it? Then again, adults always seemed inhuman in Philip's eyes.
The bullies were unfazed. "Obviously not—HEY! You're stepping on my foot!"
Sure enough, Darklight was pressing down on the boy's sneaker.
Darklight blinked, as if surprised—though something about it felt mocking. Slowly, he stepped back. "My apologies. That was not my intent."
The bully growled, glaring at the dirtied white fabric. "Look what you did."
Darklight glanced at the stain. Something like guilt flickered in his expression.
"Sorry…" he murmured. "I should have some wet wipes… that might help." He slung his bag over his shoulder and started searching through it.
The bullies weren't interested in an apology. The second one, clearly fed up, swung.
A fist connected with Darklight's cheek, sending him stumbling to the ground.
Gasps rippled through the classroom.
For a moment, the attacker seemed to realize what he had done—like the weight of every watching eye had just settled on him.
But the most unnerving part wasn't the punch.
It was the chuckle.
A low, chilling chuckle escaped from the boy on the ground.
Darklight sat up, rubbing his cheek, a smirk creeping onto his face. His dull eyes gleamed in a way they hadn't before.
"As you know, I never strike first," he murmured, rising to his feet. His voice was smooth, almost amused.
His next words came with a predatory smile.
"But I do return what was given to me—tenfold."
And then all hell broke loose.
Tables overturned. Chairs flew.
When the chaos settled, only one boy remained standing.
Darklight loomed over the two fallen bullies, dusting off his uniform. "Get up," he ordered, his voice calm but leaving no room for argument. "Go clean yourselves up."
The two scrambled to their feet and hurried to the bathroom without a word.
Silence fell over the room.
Philip stood frozen, staring at the boy who had just single-handedly flipped the script.
Darklight knelt, picking something up from the floor.
Philip uttered a small, surprised noise when he saw what it was.
His phone. The reason behind the entire fight.
Darklight turned, and Philip saw the state he was in. He had a large bruise above his right eye, and his left cheek seemed to be swollen. There were some other red spots here and there, but all in all, he seemed to have gotten better off than his victims.
Darklight walked over to him, wordlessly placing the device into his hands before turning to leave.
Philip's fingers curled around the phone. He hesitated. Then, before Darklight could step out the door—
"Hey… you didn't have to do all that."
Darklight stopped.
Slowly, he turned back, expression unreadable.
For a moment, Philip thought he wasn't going to answer.
Then, Darklight's lips parted—only to close again.
He blinked once, then shut his eyes briefly before opening them again. When he spoke, his voice was quieter. More… certain.
"Ah. You do not have to feel guilty. That fight was entirely my fault."
Philip frowned. "What? No, it was clearly theirs, but…" He trailed off, studying the other boy's face. "Nicholas Darklight, right? I've seen you around. The others tend to avoid you. Even though you didn't start the fight, are you sure you won't get into trouble?"
Philip knew how bullies worked. If they were popular enough, they could twist the story, get off with nothing but a slap on the wrist.
Nicholas blinked, then turned away—suddenly looking… flustered?
He coughed into his hand.
"My apologies," he said, voice slightly awkward. "You know my name, yet I do not know yours, even though you have been in my class for almost two weeks now."
Philip visibly recoiled. That's what he's flustered about?
"…Philip."
Nicholas nodded, as if engraving the name in his memory. "Yes, Philip." Then, unexpectedly, he smiled.
"You do not need to worry. Everything will be fine."
Philip stared at him.
Something about the way Nicholas said that—so assured, so absolute—made him believe it.
Against his better judgment, he let it go and returned to his seat.
The next day.
"We're sorry!"
The two bullies from yesterday were bowing as they apologized to Philip.
Philip could only stare at them, bewildered. "Uh… yeah, sure." He mentally smacked himself for the weak response. But what confused him more was how the bullies had somehow avoided detention.
Nicholas Darklight, however, hadn't.
"So, um… we were in the wrong, but we were actually curious about the game you were showing off," one of them stammered.
"Yeah, sorry about that again," the other added.
Philip didn't know what to make of it. "Some other time," he muttered—though in his mind, it was more like never.
He found Nicholas outside in the schoolyard during lunchtime. The boy was sitting under a tree far away from everyone else, eating with one hand while holding a book in his lap. He used his free hand to turn the pages. He looked completely at peace.
So, of course, Philip felt the need to disturb that peace.
He plopped down next to Nicholas, who immediately sent him an annoyed look. For the first time, Philip saw something resembling actual emotion on his face. Up until now, he had assumed Nicholas was some kind of robot. Philip narrowed his eyes at the book in the other boy's lap. The Idiot by… Do-Do-Do-something. Philip couldn't pronounce the name.
Nicholas sighed. "Philip, was it? Is there something you need?"
"I was wondering why those two apologized to me today."
Nicholas's expression was unreadable at first. Then, realization dawned on his face. "Ah. Them." He turned a page. "The truth is, they aren't so bad. Their parents just did a poor job of raising them."
Philip looked at him like he had grown a second head. "You do realize that's not something you should say out loud, right?"
Nicholas tilted his head, genuinely confused. "But it's the truth."
"Yeah, but still not nice," Philip grimaced. "I don't care about them, but I'm telling you this so you don't get into trouble."
"...It's not nice?" Nicholas looked momentarily distraught. After a few seconds, he nodded. "I see. Thank you for the advice."
"Don't mention it—wait, that's not even what I came here for!" Philip raised his voice, pointing a finger at Nicholas.
Nicholas merely looked at him, unbothered. There was no malice in his gaze, yet Philip still felt a chill run down his spine.
"What's with those dead eyes?" Philip muttered, turning away.
Behind him, he faintly heard Nicholas repeat, "Dead… eyes?"
Philip turned back. "What did you do? Why were you the only one that got punished? And why did they apologize?"
Nicholas didn't answer right away. He just stared at Philip with that same poker face. For a moment, Philip thought he wouldn't get a response at all. Maybe he'd even get beaten up instead. But then Nicholas finally spoke.
"As I said before, they aren't bad. Their parents let them do as they pleased, and so they believed they could do the same at school. They've gotten in trouble a few times, but they aren't truly malicious. Just a bit dumb."
Nicholas's tone was so monotonous that Philip had to fight the urge to yawn. Still, he kept listening.
"As for what happened… well, I simply told the truth while omitting your bullying. I was the one who started the fight."
Philip frowned. "Wait… what?"
"When I stepped on his foot," Nicholas clarified.
"That wasn't accidental?"
"It was not."
"But why?"
"...Something happened recently, and I needed to let off some steam," Nicholas admitted. Then, in a lower voice, he added, "It didn't really help, though."
Philip studied him carefully. "…Do you regret it?"
"No." Nicholas's answer was immediate. Firm. There wasn't even a hint of hesitation. "In the end, I helped you. That's all that matters. I just wish I had done it differently."
Philip nodded slowly. He didn't really understand, but that was fine. He could think about it later. Right now…
"Why do you look like you want me to leave so badly?" he asked bluntly.
Nicholas's face twisted into an ugly scowl. "It's not you." His voice dropped a little. "But while we're on that subject… why are you still here?"
Philip blinked. "What?"
Nicholas sighed. "I did what I did so you could have a decent reputation. I'm sure those two weren't the only ones who tried talking to you today, right?"
Philip thought back. Yeah, actually… quite a few people did. But he turned them all away because he knew it was fake.
"Sitting with me will only make your reputation plummet. It'll make my hard work go to waste. So shoo, shoo." Nicholas made a dismissive hand gesture.
Philip didn't budge. "Like I care about fake friendships. You stood up for me. That already makes you a better friend than anyone else in that class."
Nicholas sighed again, rubbing his temple. "Do whatever you want." With that, he closed his book, finished his lunch, and leaned back against the tree, shutting his eyes.
Philip scowled. Now he's ignoring me? What a weird guy.
His eyes drifted back to the book. "So, what's The Idiot about?"
Nicholas cracked open one eye. "It's about a pure and selfless man named Prince Myshkin—"
"Give me the TL;DR."
Nicholas gave him a bewildered look. "The… short version?"
"Yes."
"…It's about whether goodness can survive in a corrupt world. And at the end, the answer is no. The protagonist's good-natured spirit and dream of redeeming others are shattered."
Philip frowned. "That doesn't sound like a fun book."
"It's not." Nicholas shared the sentiment. "The hero should always win in the end, no? I dislike tragic endings."
"You know, I don't think ten-year-olds are supposed to be reading that kind of book." Philip raised an eyebrow. "Actually, I'm surprised you're reading at all."
Nicholas looked genuinely surprised. "It's not normal to read?"
"Not when you're this young, no." Philip snorted. "You're supposed to be having fun playing games or something. Wait… is that why you talk the way you do?"
Nicholas blinked. "What way?"
"So… adult-like. Some of the words you use—I don't even know what they mean."
"I… learned from my father and his friends. And from the books I read." Nicholas hesitated. "As for this one… I just heard it was good."
Philip snorted again. "How about I show you something actually fun?"
Nicholas glanced at him. "Alright."
"And talk more casually."
"I don't know what falls under that category."
"Stop using big words and look at this." Philip shoved his phone into Nicholas's lap.
"…What is it?"
"A tower defense game. You have to place towers strategically to defend against monsters."
Nicholas's gaze sharpened slightly. "Monsters, you say?"
And just like that, they spent the rest of lunch playing the game together.