The first light of dawn spilled across the horizon, brushing the world in gold. Dew clung to the leaves like tiny crystals, each drop catching the sunlight and splitting it into soft rainbows. They swayed gently, as if the morning itself was breathing. Somewhere above, birds called to one another—a delicate harmony that made the air feel lighter, almost fragile.
I lay there, staring at the ceiling. One word weighed heavy in my mind—*freedom*.
Freedom from this place.
Freedom from the stares.
Freedom from the whispers that carved my name into something ugly.
Two days had passed since Vector had asked to be my friend. Two days since I had given him no answer. I had stayed home, pretending the world didn't exist. But today, for reasons I couldn't name, I rose with the sun.
I bathed, dressed, and forced down breakfast. My body went through the motions, but my mind drifted to the quiet walls of my home and the woman I called "mother."
We hadn't spoken for what felt like months. Our silence had become so normal it was almost comfortable. Almost.
The walk to school was slow. Not from dread, but from wanting to hold onto the calm air a little longer. The morning breeze curled around me like soft fingers, brushing my hair, whispering that maybe today wouldn't be so bad.
For the first time in forever, I was early. The classroom was nearly empty. I sat down, straightened my back, lifted my chin—trying to be someone who looked like they belonged.
But as the room filled, the murmurs began.
*"What's he doing here? I thought he dropped out."*
*"Wasn't he gone for good?"*
Their voices weren't loud, but each word was a stone thrown at my chest. My breath grew heavy, my stomach twisted, and I could almost hear my confidence shatter—small, sharp pieces falling to the floor.
I lowered my head. If I didn't see their faces, maybe their words wouldn't hurt so much. I refused to look at Vector. If I saw pity in his eyes, I'd break apart completely.
The bell rang. Freedom—for now.
I slipped away to the roof, the one place in this school where the wind felt like my friend. From up here, the noise of the world dulled into nothing. I unwrapped my sandwich slowly, letting the moment of peace sink in.
"Hey, mind if I join you?"
The voice startled me. I turned, and Vector stood there, smiling like the world hadn't just been cruel a few minutes ago.
We talked about nothing at first. Then, out of nowhere, he asked, "The time I came to your house… I only saw your mother. What about your father?"
Something in my chest tightened. My throat went dry.
"I never knew him," I said quietly. "He left before I was born."
I hesitated, then added, "But my mother told me much about him. He was a man of many talents, someone who had seen the wonders of the world. She said he was a free spirit, and that was what made her fall in love with him."
A faint smile tugged at my lips. "When I asked where he came from, she told me, 'From beyond the stars.' As a kid, I imagined him in some far-off place, maybe even on another world. I used to dream he'd come back for me, stepping out of the sky like in the stories."
The smile faded. My voice shrank.
"When I was older, she told me the truth. That the moment they found out she was pregnant, he left. That I wasn't supposed to exist. And the reason why he left was because I came to this world. She said if I'd never been born, he would have stayed."
The air felt heavy. I could still see her face that day—calm, unshaken, as if she were reading a script. I'd gone to my room and sat there for hours, staring at the wall, wondering why I had ever been born at all.
My lip trembled, and I bit it hard enough to taste blood, but the sting didn't stop the tears pressing at my eyes.
Vector's gaze was steady, almost painfully gentle. "I'm sorry," he murmured.
Then he told me his own loss—both his parents, killed when he was seven, right before his eyes. Frozen, powerless, he had been forced to watch the light leave their faces.
The wind filled the silence that followed, cool against my damp eyes. Something shifted between us. It wasn't pity I felt from him—it was understanding.
From that day, we spent more time together—lunches on the roof, walks home, talking until the sun dipped low. With Vector, I didn't feel like I was chasing someone just to belong. I just… was.
One afternoon, as we walked home, Vector asked, "Joel, do you have any future plans? Any lifelong goals?"
I shrugged. "I don't know… I'm still figuring out my purpose. But once, I wanted to be an entomologist— a person who studys insects."
"Why insects?" he asked, tilting his head.
"Because of ants," I said. " Ants are my favourite creatures. They're small yeah, but strong. They never give up. I used to want to be like that—loyal, unbreakable. Having an outstanding will. Not giving up. But… I'm not all that. I'm weak. I always have been."
Vector didn't argue. He just looked at me in that way he does, as if he could see the cracks I was trying to hide.
Then, almost casually, he asked, "Who are you going with to the fireworks festival?"
I blinked. "No one. I wasn't planning on going. And if by chance I did… I'd be by myself."
"You won't be alone," Vector said with a grin. "I'll be there with you."
I laughed bitterly. "Yeah, right. If I did that, the stories would never end, and the bullying would get worse."
His smile softened. "Then go with someone else. Someone who isn't going either."
"Who?" I asked.
"Lisa," he replied.
I raised an eyebrow. "I thought she was your girlfriend."
Vector chuckled. "I wander why Everyone thinks that. She's my sister for crying out loud—we even have the same last name."
I hesitated. "I don't know… what if this ends like last time? The last thing I'd want would to relive that girl with a different person"
"Just trust me," he said, his voice steady. "Do it for me."
Before I could answer, shadows moved in from the side street. The same group who had beaten me before stepped out.
"Vector," their leader sneered, "you've been spending too much time with this loser. It's making him forget his place. Step away."
I felt it in my bones—this was where Vector would leave me. Like everyone else had.
But he didn't. "No," he said. Just one word, but solid as stone. "If you want him, you'll have to go through me."
They came at us fast. In a heartbeat, Vector moved—sharp, controlled, almost too quick to follow. A punch to the ribs. Followed by a series of kicks. A sweep of the leg. The air cracked with the sound of blows landing. As Vector destroyed our attackers.
When it was over, they were on the ground, groaning.
Vector pinned the leader beneath him, fist raised high. For a moment, I thought he would hit him. The tension in his arm was pure rage. But at the last second, he slammed his fist into the ground beside the guy's head.
"Get lost," he growled. "If you touch Joel again—if you so much as look at him the wrong way—you answer to me."
They scrambled away, fear dripping from their faces.
When we reached my street, I asked, "Why didn't you finish him when you had the chance?"
Vector didn't look at me. "Because that wouldn't have been self-defense anymore," he said quietly. "It would've been revenge. And the second I do that… I become just like them."
"Joel, I want to hurt those who have hurt me more than anything. I want to make them bleed and groan with pain. But that isn't me. I want to be heartless like everybody else, but that isn't me." he said.
There was something raw under his calm voice, something that made the air feel heavy. He turned and walked away, leaving me with the image of his back disappearing into the fading light.