Michael woke up to the sound of knocking on the front door, his neck stiff and his back aching from sleeping hunched over in the desk chair. Sunlight was streaming through his bedroom window, and he could hear birds chirping outside—morning had come without him noticing.
He blinked slowly, trying to remember where he was and why he felt so terrible. The books were still scattered across his desk, his notebook open to the page where he'd been writing the night before. He'd fallen asleep while researching, pen still in his hand.
The knocking came again, more insistent this time.
"I'm coming," Michael called out, his voice rough from sleep. He stood up slowly, working out the kinks in his neck as he made his way downstairs.
Michael stumbled down the stairs and opened the front door, his eyes still blurry from sleep. Liam stood on the doorstep with a small wrapped box in his hands and a grin on his face.
"Morning, sleepyhead," Liam said, looking him up and down. "You look terrible. I just saw Sophie heading to work—she said your food is in the kitchen."
"Thanks," Michael mumbled, stepping aside to let Liam in. They made their way upstairs to his room.
Michael muttered, rubbing his eyes. "You didn't show up yesterday," Michael said, settling back into his desk chair.
"Yeah, sorry about that. I was busy yesterday," Liam replied, dropping onto the bed and making himself comfortable. "Had to take care of some things. But I brought you something to make up for it."
He held out the wrapped box, his grin getting wider. "Go on, open it."
Michael took the box and sat on the edge of his bed, still trying to wake up properly. He looked at Liam, who was practically bouncing with excitement.
"Come on, hurry up and open it," Liam urged, leaning forward. "You're going to love this, I promise."
Michael slowly pulled off the wrapping paper and opened the small box. Inside was a phone—but not just any phone. It was sleek and modern, with a screen that seemed to shimmer slightly in the morning light. The design was unlike anything he'd seen before, clearly advanced technology.
"Thanks," Michael said, turning the phone over in his hands.
Liam's grin faltered a bit. "Don't you like it, man? This has always been your dream phone, remember? I had to put in a lot of work to get you this."
Michael looked up at his friend's slightly disappointed face. "Yeah, I do like it. It looks really good."
"Right, well..." Liam said, his tone shifting as he glanced around the room. "Doesn't matter right now anyway." His eyes landed on the desk where books were still spread out. "You've been doing some research lately, I see."
Liam got up from the bed and walked over to the desk, picking up one of the books and flipping through it casually. This was clearly a routine for him—moving around Michael's room like it was his second home.
"Yeah," Michael answered simply, watching his friend examine the books.
Liam set the book down and turned back to him. "How's it going? Finding anything that brings back your memory?"
"Not really," Michael said with a small shrug.
Liam studied his face for a moment, taking in the tired eyes and the way Michael's shoulders seemed to carry extra weight. "Is there something bothering you? Something you want to talk about?"
Michael was quiet for a moment, then looked up at his friend. "How does joining the military actually look? I mean, really look?"
Liam raised an eyebrow and came back to sit on the bed, this time closer to Michael. "Well, it's got its good points. Fun like they say it is. Respect from everyone, chances of getting super cool powers if you bond with a Symbolic, lots of money, and..." he grinned, "the girls love a guy in uniform."
Michael couldn't help but smile at that last part. "Yeah, I figured those were the selling points."
"But then there's the other side," Michael continued, his voice getting more serious. "The killing of Hollows."
Liam's expression changed, the playful mood shifting to something more thoughtful. "Yeah, that's the reality of it. It can be exciting when you're the one doing the killing, but it's absolutely horrible when they're the ones killing us."
He looked directly at Michael, his voice dropping lower. "You're not planning to join, are you?"
Michael hesitated. "I don't know. Maybe I will, maybe I won't."
Liam was quiet for a long moment, just looking at his friend. "Look, it's your choice to make. I won't try to force you one way or the other. But just know that it's dangerous work, and you don't want to put your mom and Sophie through the worry of wondering if you're coming home each day."
He reached over and put a hand on Michael's shoulder. "They need you here, man. Same as I do."
"Okay, I hear you," Michael said quietly.
Michael picked up the new phone and tried to turn it on, fumbling with the buttons for a moment. As he did, something clicked in his head.
"Wait," he said, looking up at Liam. "I did have a phone before this, right?"
"Yeah, you did," Liam nodded.
"What happened to it? Where is it now?"
"It got broken and scattered in the accident," Liam explained. "Couldn't find all the pieces. That's part of why I wanted to get you this one."
"Oh, okay." Michael looked down at the new phone, then back at Liam with a genuine smile. "Thanks for the phone, really. I mean it."
"No problem," Liam said, looking relieved that Michael was finally showing some real appreciation. "That's what friends do."
Michael had one more question. "When does the ceremony start? You know, for choosing which career path we want?"
"It's about two months from now," Liam replied. "Still have some time to think about it."
Just then, Liam's phone buzzed loudly. He pulled it out and checked the screen, his expression changing as he read the message.
"Ah, man, I have to go," he said, standing up from the bed. "I really wish I could stay longer and hang out."
As Liam headed toward the door, Michael got up too. "Let me walk you out."
"Nah, you don't need to do that," Liam said, waving him off. "I'll be fine. Besides, I'll call you later. I already put a SIM card in that phone and programmed my number in."
"Alright," Michael said, watching his friend head downstairs.
After Liam left, Michael sat back down on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. The new phone sat beside him, but his mind was elsewhere.
"What am I gonna choose? I don't know," he said to the empty room.
The morning sunlight was getting stronger, casting shifting patterns on the ceiling as clouds moved past the sun. Michael watched them, trying to make sense of his thoughts.
"I'll just choose a decent job that won't affect my life too much," he murmured. "Something safe, something that lets me help my family without putting them through hell."
But even as he said it, he knew it wasn't that simple. The books upstairs had made it clear—the safe jobs didn't pay enough to really help his mother and Sophie. The dangerous job would make them worry every single day. There didn't seem to be a perfect solution.
"My mom needs me, same as my sister," he continued, his voice getting quieter. "And Liam is a good friend to me. What else do I hope for?"
The irony wasn't lost on him. In his old life, he'd had no one who cared whether he lived or died. Now he had people who loved him, people who depended on him, people who would worry about him—and that made every choice so much harder.
The morning was peaceful, with only the sound of birds outside and the distant hum of the city beyond. Sophie had already left for work, and the house felt quiet and safe. It was the kind of morning that made dangerous choices seem far away and unreal.
But Michael knew that two months wasn't very long. Soon enough, he'd have to make a decision that would affect not just his own future, but the futures of everyone he was learning to care about.
He picked up the new phone and turned it over in his hands. It was a generous gift from a good friend, the kind of gesture that showed how much Liam cared about him. The original Michael had been lucky to have someone like that in his life.
'And now I'm the one who's lucky,' Michael thought.
The weight of the phone in his hands felt like the weight of all his new responsibilities. Every relationship came with obligations, every person who cared about him was someone he could disappoint or hurt by making the wrong choice.
Sleep began to creep up on him again, his body finally demanding rest after the uncomfortable night in the chair. As his eyes grew heavy, Michael let himself sink deeper into the pillow, the phone still clutched in his hand.
His last conscious thought was a promise to himself: whatever choice he made, he would make it carefully, thinking about all the people who mattered to him now. He wouldn't be reckless with the life he'd been given, or with the hearts of the people who had welcomed him home.
The morning sun continued to shine through his window as sleep finally took him away from his worries, at least for a while.