As Roy entered the kitchen, the sunlight streaming through the curtains painted the room in a soft, golden glow. His mother stood at the stove, her back to him, flipping pancakes with the practised ease of someone who had done it a thousand times before. The scent of syrup and freshly brewed coffee filled the air, a comforting aroma that should have settled the turmoil in Roy's chest—but didn't.
"Morning," he mumbled, sliding into his usual chair. The table was already set, a neat plate waiting for him with a steaming stack of pancakes. His mother turned, her smile warm but tinged with concern.
"Morning, hon. You look... tired. Did you sleep okay?" Her eyes searched his face, as if trying to read the thoughts he kept locked away.
"Yeah," Roy lied, poking at the food with his fork. "Just stayed up late. Working on something."
She nodded, though her gaze lingered. Roy knew she could tell he wasn't being completely honest, but he also knew she wouldn't push—not yet, anyway.
As he nibbled at his breakfast, the silence stretched between them. It wasn't uncomfortable, but it was heavy, like there were words waiting to be said. Finally, his mother broke it.
"Your dad and I have been talking," she began cautiously, setting down her coffee mug and folding her hands on the table. "About how you've been doing lately. And we're... worried."
Roy stiffened, his fork freezing mid-air. "I'm fine," he said quickly, too quickly.
Her brow furrowed. "I know you say that, but, sweetheart, we see how hard it's been for you. And it's okay to not be fine. It's okay to need help."
Roy's chest tightened. He shoved a piece of pancake into his mouth, chewing mechanically, avoiding her eyes.
"I don't need anything," he said finally, his voice quieter now. "I'm handling it."
"You don't have to handle it alone," his mother replied gently. "Dr Takahashi mentioned at your last check-up that maybe it's time to adjust your medication. You've been on the same dose for a while, and—"
"I'm fine," Roy interrupted, louder this time. His chair scraped against the floor as he pushed back from the table. "I don't need more pills, okay? I'm not... broken."
The words hung in the air, sharp and cutting. His mother flinched, but she didn't back down.
"You're not broken, Roy," she said softly, standing and moving to his side. "But you're hurting. And we just want to help you heal. That's all the medication is—it's help. Not a fix, not a cure. Just... support."
Roy clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. The storm in his chest threatened to spill over, but he bit it back, swallowing the lump in his throat. He couldn't explain to her what he was feeling—the weight of memories that didn't belong to this life, the scars that went deeper than skin.
"I need to get ready for school," he muttered, brushing past her before she could say anything else.
As he retreated to his room, the guilt followed him, clinging like a shadow. He knew his mother meant well, but how could she understand? How could anyone?
Roy grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder, forcing himself to take a deep breath. The conversation with his mother still weighed on him, her words replaying in his mind like an echo he couldn't shake. He stepped out of his room, avoiding her gaze as he made his way to the front door.
"Roy", she called softly from the kitchen, but he didn't stop.
"Gonna be late," he said quickly, his voice clipped. Before she could respond, he opened the door and stepped outside, the cool morning air biting at his skin. The world outside was quiet, the neighbourhood still waking up.
He grabbed his backpack, slinging it over one shoulder. His eyes flicked to the mirror on the wall as he passed, catching his own reflection. Dark circles framed his eyes, and his usually sharp expression seemed dulled, worn. You're not broken, he repeated to himself, but the words felt hollow, like trying to convince a mirror of something it couldn't reflect.
The front door creaked softly as Roy stepped out of the house, the morning air cool and crisp against his skin. The world outside seemed blissfully unaware of the turmoil inside him. Birds chirped from the treetops, and the faint hum of car engines filled the distance.
Roy started walking down the driveway, his footsteps crunching against the gravel. The distant hum of cars on the main road filled the silence, and he focused on it, letting the steady rhythm drown out the noise in his head. His school was only a few blocks away, but the walk felt longer today, his legs heavy with each step.
As he turned the corner onto the main street, he caught sight of his reflection in a shop window. The boy staring back at him looked ordinary enough—messy brown hair, a rumpled school uniform, and a backpack slung lazily over one shoulder. But Roy couldn't help but feel like he didn't belong in that reflection. The memories of other lives, other versions of himself, loomed just beneath the surface, threatening to unravel the fragile sense of normalcy he was trying to maintain and act out.
He shook his head, tearing his gaze away from the glass. "Just focus," he muttered under his breath. "One step at a time."
"Roy!"
The familiar voice jolted him out of his thoughts. Kieran was waiting at the corner, a grin plastered across his face. He stood with his hands in his hoodie pockets, his usual messy hair slightly tamed today.
"Hey," Roy greeted, his voice steadier now. Seeing Kieran was like taking a deep breath after holding it too long.
"Took you long enough. Thought you were going to ditch me and go solo," Kieran teased, falling into step beside him.
"Right, because I'd totally abandon my favourite sidekick," Roy shot back, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.
"Sidekick? Man, please. If anything, you're Robin, and I'm Batman. I mean, look at me—charming, handsome, obviously the main character." Kieran gestured dramatically to himself.
Roy snorted, the banter easing the weight on his chest. "You wish. You've got the charisma of a wet sponge."
"Wow, thanks for that. Love the confidence boost," Kieran replied, clutching his chest like Roy had shot him.
As they walked, the school loomed in the distance, its brick façade bathed in the soft glow of the morning sun. The streets were alive with other students making their way to class, their chatter blending into a low, buzzing symphony.
When they reached the traffic light at the next intersection, the traffic signals turned green, signalling for pedestrians to stop. Roy and Kieran waited silently, the occasional car passing in front of them. A breeze brushed past, ruffling Roy's hair as he stared at the light, lost in thought.
The traffic signals turned red, inviting them to cross. Kieran started forward confidently, but Roy hesitated. His legs felt like they were rooted to the pavement. A chill ran down his spine, a strange foreboding clutching at his chest.
"Roy?" Kieran called, glancing back. "Are you coming?"
Roy blinked, shaking off the feeling. Just as he stepped forward, a car sped through the red light, the tyres screeching as it narrowly missed him by inches. He stumbled back, heart pounding in his chest.
"Dude, what the hell?" Kieran shouted at the car, which disappeared down the street without so much as slowing. Then he turned to Roy, eyes wide. "Are you okay?"
Roy nodded, though his legs were trembling. "Yeah. Just… didn't see it coming."
Kieran placed a hand on his shoulder, steadying him. "That was way too close, man. You've got to be careful, but it was totally that guy's fault."
"I know," Roy muttered, his voice quieter now. The eerie sense of foreboding lingered, even as they continued walking. His mind replayed the moment over and over—the screech of tyres, the rush of air as the car sped past. He couldn't shake the feeling that he'd been on the brink of something inevitable.
"Are you sure you're good?" Kieran asked again, studying Roy's face.
"Yeah," Roy said, forcing a smile. "Guess it just wasn't my time."
They walked in silence for a while, the school drawing nearer with every step. But even as they entered the courtyard and blended into the crowd of students, Roy couldn't shake the feeling that the moment at the traffic light had changed something—as if the threads of fate had frayed ever so slightly.
They reached the school gates, the sound of the morning bell echoing through the courtyard. As they stepped inside, the noise of the day swallowed them—teachers calling out reminders, lockers slamming, and friends reuniting after the weekend.
The familiar buzz of fluorescent lights greeted him as he entered the classroom. He slid into his seat by the window, letting his bag drop to the floor with a dull thud. Outside, the sun was climbing higher, its rays glinting off the cars in the parking lot.
But even in the chaos, Roy felt a little more grounded. Because no matter what, Kieran would always be there—in every life and every world.