The hum of fluorescent lights. Muffled laughter and conversations from browsing customers.
The store was alive with noise — soft laughter, the beeping of scanners, and the hum of idle conversation blending into a low background buzz. Aaron was packing up, his fingers methodically slipping his belongings into his bag as the last of the customers browsed the aisles.
Lucas sat nearby at the staff desk, bathed in the bluish glow of his monitor. His eyes darted across several open browser tabs, yet they flicked up just long enough to catch Aaron by the exit.
"Hey, Aaron," Lucas said without turning his head.
Aaron froze for a second, startled. "Oh. Lucas. What's up?"
"I was just thinking..." Lucas leaned back in his chair, swiveling slightly. "We've worked together for a while now, and I just realized... I know almost nothing about you. Where're you from?"
Aaron hesitated. His hand hovered above his briefcase, unsure whether to zip it up or leave it open. His eyes scanned the room. No one seemed to be listening.
"Crestfall," he said finally. "It's just a small town. Not much to talk about."
Lucas tilted his head, intrigued. "Crestfall? Sounds like a movie town. What's it like?"
Crestfall City is a remote, brooding city nestled in the shadow of ancient, forested mountains. Unlike the sprawling neon sprawl of Velmont City, Crestfall is a place steeped in silence and secrets — a city where time seems to move slower and the fog never quite lifts. Its architecture leans gothic, with ivy-covered stone buildings, narrow alleys, and lantern-lit streets that whisper of older times. The people are insular, bound by generations of tradition and unspoken rules. Whispers of the supernatural still linger in the folklore passed down through its tight-knit communities.
He was born here, into a family with deep roots and an even deeper past. Crestfall shaped him — quiet, watchful, always carrying a sense of something unresolved. While Velmont thrives on technology, noise, and reinvention, Crestfall is defined by memory, shadow, and things left buried. It's the kind of place that never truly lets go of the people who leave it.
To understand Aaron is to understand Crestfall — a city that hides more than it shows, and remembers everything.
Aaron offered a faint smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, reminiscing his origin. "Quiet. Lots of trees. A single diner, a tiny grocery store, one main street that curves into the woods. People either love it or forget it exists."
Lucas noticed the way Aaron's voice dipped when he spoke, like each word was weighed before being released.
"What was it like growing up there?" he asked gently.
Aaron's gaze drifted away, his mind clearly reaching into some distant memory. "It was... okay. I mean, I had a decent childhood. My mom was wonderful—kind, warm, always holding everything together. But my dad? Always distant. Cold, even. My two brothers? They never treated me like I was part of their world."
"That must've been tough," Lucas said.
Aaron nodded slowly. "They were always whispering when I walked into the room. Like I wasn't supposed to be included. Like I didn't belong."
Lucas leaned forward. "Did you ever ask them why?"
"I did. Once," Aaron replied, his voice low. "When I was fifteen. I asked my mom why Dad was always like that. Why my brothers never let me in."
He paused, swallowing the memory.
"She just said it was because of something that happened. Something they couldn't change."
Lucas's brow furrowed. "Something like what?"
Aaron hesitated. A long beat passed before he continued.
"She told me I was born with a condition. Something rare. But she never told me what it really was. Just that it made me... different. And that I had to keep it secret. From everyone."
Silence settled between them, thick and tense.
Lucas sat with that information for a moment, then said carefully, "What kind of condition?"
Aaron shook his head. "It doesn't matter. Not now. That's all behind me."
Lucas didn't push. But the concern in his voice lingered. "It does matter, though. It's part of who you are. If you bury it too deep, it'll just find a way to come out sideways."
Aaron stared at the floor, then stood abruptly. "Maybe. But not here. Not now."
Lucas simply nodded. "Okay. Whenever you're ready."
They exchanged a quiet look — a silent agreement that this conversation wasn't over, just postponed.