The lab was darker than usual.
Felix had dimmed the overheads again, leaving only the narrow bands of light along the walls — white and cold, slicing the shadows into neat, sterile fragments. The air hummed faintly, mechanical, alive. Leo stepped in quietly, the soles of his shoes whispering against the concrete floor.
Felix didn't greet him.
He stood by the central table, hands folded behind his back, eyes fixed on the faint reflection in the metal surface. The light cut sharp across his face, revealing exhaustion in the hollow beneath his cheekbones, the tight line of his mouth.
"You said to come early," Leo said at last, his voice thin against the silence. "What's going on?"
Felix turned slowly. His expression was calm — too calm — but his eyes looked older than Leo had ever seen them, like something behind them was running out of time.
"The next phase begins tomorrow," he said. The words were steady, but beneath them there was strain, like a low note held too long.
Leo frowned. "Already? You said my resonance still needs time."
"It does," Felix replied. His gaze flicked toward the dormant monitors. "That's why we begin sooner."
Leo blinked. "That doesn't make sense."
Felix finally met his eyes. "It will, when you understand what's coming."
The answer chilled him. It wasn't an answer at all.
Leo took a step forward, lowering his voice. "You're hiding something again."
Felix gave a weary half-smile. It didn't reach his eyes. "I'm protecting you. There's a difference."
"By what? Pushing me until I burn out?"
Felix's face hardened. "You think I'd let that happen?"
"I don't know what you'd let happen anymore," Leo said quietly.
Felix didn't move for a long moment. Then he turned back to the table, gathering scattered papers, his voice distant. "You've learned matter in all its forms — solids, liquids, gases, plasma. But what we're beginning next transcends that. Pure Energy. Resonance stripped of its body. Creation in motion. No form, no containment. Just will."
Leo swallowed. "You mean raw power."
Felix nodded once. "Yes. It's dangerous. But necessary. You have to learn to hold it before it devours you."
Leo's pulse stumbled. "Devours me?"
Felix's eyes rose, unreadable. "Do you really think you can turn back now?"
The silence between them pressed in — heavy, electric.
Leo took a small step back. "Why tomorrow? What's the rush?"
Felix hesitated. "Because time is running out."
Leo frowned. "Whose time?"
A pause. Then, softly — "Mine."
That stopped Leo cold. "Felix—"
But Felix was already turning away. "You'll come at dawn," he said, gathering a set of metal instruments into a neat row. "Before the world wakes."
"Why dawn?"
Felix didn't look up. "Because we'll need the silence."
The way he said it — quiet, almost tender — made something twist deep in Leo's chest.
"I don't like this," Leo muttered.
"I don't like it either," Felix said. "But that doesn't make it unnecessary."
Leo studied him — the man who had become both his anchor and his storm. Felix looked smaller somehow, diminished under the cold light. A man carved by purpose, hollowed by it.
Leo wanted to ask more. He wanted to demand the truth. But instead, he just said, "Fine. I'll be here."
Felix's eyes softened, briefly human. "Good. Eat something tonight. And try to sleep."
Leo gave a short laugh. "Yeah. Sure."
As he reached the door, Felix's voice came again, lower, almost a whisper. "Leo."
He turned.
Felix's expression was shadowed. "Whatever happens tomorrow… remember why you came back."
Leo frowned. "To understand what he left behind?"
Felix shook his head. "No. To finish it."
Leo didn't answer. Couldn't. He only nodded once and stepped out.
Behind him, the lab lights flickered — once, twice — before fading back to darkness.
By the time the final bell rang, Leo's thoughts were a storm.
He walked through the courtyard without seeing the people around him. Every echo of Felix's words — before the world wakes, time is running out — pulsed in rhythm with his heartbeat.
"Leo!"
The voice cut through the noise.
He turned. Betty was standing by the fence, the setting sun catching in her hair, turning the strands to molten gold. One hand gripped the strap of her bag; the other fidgeted against the fabric of her sleeve.
He forced a small smile. "Hey. You're early."
"So are you," she said softly. "That's… rare."
Something uncertain flickered in her eyes. "Can we talk? Somewhere quiet?"
Leo hesitated, then nodded. "Sure."
They ended up behind the old gym, where the walls still bore ghostly traces of graffiti long scrubbed away. The air back there was cooler, the wind gentler. The noise of the school faded to a distant hum — laughter, footsteps, lockers closing — until it was just them and the weight of everything unsaid.
Betty dropped her bag by her feet. Her fingers twisted together. "You've been distant," she said. "For weeks. You disappear after class, you don't text back. I told myself it's just stress, but…"
Leo tried to smile. "That's one way to start."
She ignored the joke. Her voice was trembling now. "I notice things, Leo. I notice you."
He rubbed the back of his neck. "Betty, I'm fine."
"You're not fine," she said, too quickly. "You look at people, but you're not really here. It's like your head's somewhere I can't follow."
He looked away. "It's complicated."
"Then make it simple," she whispered.
He exhaled through his nose, frustration rising — but it wasn't with her. It was with himself, with all the things he couldn't say.
She took a small step closer. "I'm not good at this kind of thing," she murmured. "But I need to say it before you vanish again."
Leo met her eyes, startled by the way her hands trembled at her sides.
"I…" Her voice caught. "I care about you. More than I should. I've tried not to, but it doesn't stop. I keep thinking you'll wake up one morning and be… gone again."
The air between them seemed to still.
Leo blinked. For a moment, everything inside him fell quiet — the hum, the fear, the weight of Felix's words.
He wanted to speak, to tell her something that would make sense of everything. But when he opened his mouth, nothing came.
Her cheeks flushed. She looked down, embarrassed, biting her lip. "You don't have to say anything. I just… needed to stop pretending I didn't feel it."
Leo's voice was rough when it came. "Betty…" He reached out, then hesitated halfway. "I don't know what I feel. I want to. I just—"
"You're scared," she said softly.
He met her eyes. "Of a lot of things."
Her smile trembled. "Me too."
For a moment, the world felt fragile — like a breath might shatter it.
Leo's hand brushed her arm, hesitant, almost apologetic. Her skin was warm beneath his fingertips, trembling slightly.
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
She shook her head. "Don't be." Her voice broke, quiet but full. "I just wanted to know if you'd ever look at me the way I look at you."
He almost said yes. He almost did. But the truth sat heavy behind his ribs, unformed.
Instead, he whispered, "I wish things were simpler."
"Then let's pretend they are," she said, eyes wet but smiling.
It was the smallest, bravest thing she'd ever said.
Leo let out a shaky breath — half laugh, half ache. "I'll try."
"Promise?"
He hesitated, then nodded. "Promise."
Her laugh was soft and nervous, the kind that wobbled when someone's heart is too full. She wiped at her eyes, trying to play it off. "Good. Because if you disappear again, I'm dragging you back myself."
He smiled, faintly. "Guess I'm not going anywhere, then."
She looked up at him — really looked. The last of the light turned her eyes into molten amber. "You'd better not."
And then, for the first time, Leo let himself feel it — the stillness, the quiet, the warmth that existed only here.
It lasted all of five seconds.
Then a sound broke the world.
A low, mechanical hum — close, too close.
Leo turned his head just as a dark van rolled to a stop at the curb. The air shifted, heavy with something electric.
Betty frowned. "What—"
The van door slid open.
Three men stepped out. Black suits. No insignia. Eyes unreadable.
"Leo Silva," the first one said. "You need to come with us."
Leo blinked, the words not registering at first. "What?"
"Comply," the man repeated.
Betty moved in front of Leo instinctively. "Who are you? What's going on?"
No answer.
Leo's heart kicked hard against his chest. "Who sent you?"
"Come with us," the man said again, reaching into his coat.
Betty's hand shot out, gripping Leo's sleeve. "Leo—"
He didn't get to answer. The first man moved — fast. A hand on his arm, twisting, forcing him down.
Leo struggled. "Let go!"
Another agent came from behind, pulling something metallic from his pocket — a band, sleek and black.
"Stop it!" Betty screamed. She grabbed one of their arms, nails raking down his sleeve. "He didn't do anything!"
The man shoved her back.
Leo's breath tore out of him. The hum beneath his skin flared — instinctive, uncontrolled. Light burst from his wrist in a sharp pulse, slamming outward. The nearest man flew backward into the van with a sickening thud.
"Leo!" Betty's voice cracked.
The second man raised a dart gun — fired. The sting hit Leo's neck.
His vision blurred instantly.
He stumbled, reaching for Betty — her face was all color and motion, tears streaking her cheeks. "Leo! Leo!"
His knees buckled. The asphalt met him hard. Hands grabbed him, rough and efficient.
Betty lunged, screaming. "Let him go! Leo!"
He tried to speak — her name, maybe — but the sound caught halfway. His body was heavy, the world fading to streaks of gold and gray.
The van door slammed. The engine roared. Betty's voice chased him into the dark, raw and breaking.
"Leo!"
And then — nothing.