(Flashback – High school. Somewhere quiet. Afternoon light. Luke is 15. Cael, same.)
They're sitting under the same tree they always do.Back then, it was the place to hide from P.E., skip boring classes, or just pretend the world didn't exist for a while.
Luke picks at the grass. Doesn't look up.
"You ever wonder how people feel about each other?" he asks suddenly. "Like… really feel?"
Cael doesn't answer right away. Just leans back, arms behind his head, gaze on the clouds.
Luke waits.
Then, Cael glances at him. Calm. Curious. A little too sharp for comfort.
"You really want to see the truth all the time?" he asks.
He looks away, just a flick of his eyes toward the sky.
"Some people spend their whole lives trying not to."
Luke huffs a laugh, but it doesn't reach his eyes.
"I mean like... if you could see it. Like emotion. Connection. The real stuff."
Cael side-eyes him, grin twitching. "You been watching too much anime again?"
Luke doesn't answer. Just looks up at the branches.Wind pushes through the leaves like it's trying not to listen.
"I see them," Luke says.
Cael blinks. "See what?"
"Threads."He swallows."Strings that connect people when they feel too much. Hate. Love. Grief. Obsession."
A pause. Cael doesn't laugh. Doesn't joke. Just watches.
Luke sighs, shoulders dropping. "Thought you'd say I'm crazy."
"Oh, I definitely think you're crazy," Cael says, smirking now. "But that's old news."
Luke throws a leaf at him. It misses. Cael flicks a twig back.
"…They only appear when it's strong," Luke murmurs. "When people can't hold it in anymore."He twines a blade of grass between his fingers. "It's like watching someone's soul scream."
Cael goes quiet again. Serious, now.
"You've seen it on me?"
Luke doesn't answer right away. His eyes dart toward Cael.Then away.
"…No," he admits. "Never."
"Not even once?"
Luke shakes his head. "Not a single thread."
A gust of wind brushes past them, and for a second, neither of them speaks.
Cael leans back on his hands, squinting up at the sky."Huh."
Luke frowns. "That's it? Just 'huh'?"
Cael shrugs. "You tell me you see strings tied between people, and I'm the weird one? Wow. Okay."
Luke glares at him, but Cael grins wider.
"But maybe I'm just built different."
Luke groans and throws another leaf. It hits this time.
Present Day
"You've been daydreaming again."
Luke blinks at Cael's nudge. Only him, with that familiar smirk.
He's still sitting there, paper half-filled, pen poised like a spring. Luke rubs his eyes.
"Was not."
"You were spacing out for a while now."
Luke forces a grin. "Fine. You caught me."
Cael watches him—no mockery, just that steady scrutiny he can't read.
"You'll be fine," Cael says quietly. "Now finish that last one before time runs out."
Luke leans over his paper, but not before sneaking a look at Cael—solid, real, and frustratingly unreadable.
Luke scribbles in a few last answers—half logic, half prayer. His handwriting's getting messier by the second.
Beside him, Cael stretches like a cat, arms behind his head, shirt riding just a little too high.
"You finished already?" Luke mutters without looking.
"Please. This quiz practically begged me to solve it."
Luke rolls his eyes. "You're so full of—"
"Time's up," the prof calls out. Papers rustle, chairs scrape, the usual academic exodus begins.
Luke sighs and lets his pen drop. He didn't even answer the last number. He slumps back in his chair, letting the chaos of everyone rushing out muffle his thoughts.
Cael doesn't move right away. He lingers.
"You going straight home?" he asks.
Luke shrugs. "Maybe. Might drop by the library. Clear my head."
Cael nods, slow. "Sounds like a you thing."
He lingers a beat longer. Then, with that familiar half-grin:"Don't get kidnapped. I'd have to pretend I cared."
Luke snorts. "You'd miss me."
"Not if I take your snacks first."
And just like that, he walks off—easy, fluid, leaving Luke behind like it doesn't weigh anything at all.
And again, no thread.
Not a flicker.
Not even a fray.
Later That Evening at the Library
Luke sits on the top step, backpack beside him, a book open but untouched. The page hasn't turned in fifteen minutes.
The sky's painted in that lonely kind of blue, the one that makes everything feel like it's waiting for something that won't come.
His fingers twitch, absently tracing the corner of the paper. Then—
"Still pretending to read?"
That voice. No mistaking it.
Luke doesn't look up. "You stalking me now?"
Cael flops down beside him like he belongs there—like he's always belonged there. "Tch. You make it too easy. You're always exactly where I'd guess."
"I'm predictable?"
"Painfully."
Luke finally glances at him. Cael's in that usual state of elegant dishevelment—tie loose, sleeves rolled, hair a mess but somehow on purpose.
"Thought you went home," Luke mutters.
"Changed my mind."
"Why?"
Cael smirks, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "Don't know. Maybe I like messing with your routine."
Luke shuts the book. "You came here just to bother me?"
"That, and..." Cael pauses. Looks straight at him. No grin. No shield. "Wanted to ask something."
Luke's pulse stutters. "Yeah?"
Cael picks at a loose thread on his sleeve. Quiet for a beat too long.
"Those threads you see."
"...What about them?"
"Are they always between people?"
Luke blinks. "What do you mean?"
Cael's voice lowers, almost like he's asking the night itself.
"Can a thread exist... even if it's only one-sided?"
Luke freezes.
That silence between them stretches, warps. Something almost unbearable coils in Luke's chest.
He answers without looking. "They can."
Cael nods. Like he already knew. Like he just needed to hear it said aloud.
Then, softly: "You still don't see one on me?"
Luke's throat tightens. "No."
Cael leans back, looking up at the sky that's turning black at the edges. "Guess that makes me a ghost then."
Luke turns toward him, wanting to speak—but Cael's already pushing himself up, dusting his pants off like he's wiping away the moment.
"Night, Luke."
He walks off into the dark without waiting for a reply.
Luke stares after him.
And again.
No thread.
But God, did it feel like there should be.