Ash didn’t know why he was doing this.
The pancakes, that is.
He hadn’t made them in years. Not since Lily used to bribe him with chocolate chips in exchange for finishing her math homework.
But here he was.
Flipping a slightly lumpy, golden-brown circle of batter. One hand on the pan, the other braced against the countertop. The morning light poured in through the window.
The clock ticked above the fridge. Birds chirped faintly outside.
Normal morning.
Lily and Dad are seriously weird. Who goes to offices on Fridays, huh? I mean, sure, I had the day off today so isn’t it normal for all of us to go somewhere to hangout?
Noah was asleep upstairs, probably drooling into his pillow. The house was quiet, still. Their mom was upstairs doing chores.
Ash drizzled some more batter and watched it spread.
And just like that, Jayden slipped into his head again.
That look in Jayden’s eyes when I told him to come. That tiny pause. Like the words had short-circuited him. Like no one had ever said that before.
Ash’s knuckles tensed on the spatula.
Jayden wasn’t just being “teased.”
He wasn’t just some awkward kid getting picked on for not fighting back.
Misha's voice echoed.
.
.
“You should go pay them a visit.”
.
.
Ash leaned back.
Train tracks.
Who the hell even says something like that?
He rubbed the side of his face. His fingers felt cold.
Jayden’s face came back to him, not during the worst moment, but after. That split second when Ash had said “Let’s go” and Jayden had actually followed.
Like someone clinging to the edge of a cliff and finally someone reached out a hand.
He exhaled slowly.
He didn’t mean to get involved yesterday. He really didn’t. He wasn’t the “step in and save the day” type guy. He wasn’t the type to jump into things with fists first and questions later.
Seriously, though. What’s wrong with me? Why did I-
Ash was halfway through flipping a pan when his phone suddenly blared from across the table.
I’m your sunshine, you’re my sun-shineeeee!
Ash had no words. None. Not this again.
Lily and Noah had teamed up, always finding new ways to get under Ash’s skin. This time, they’d really outdone themselves.
Lily had probably convinced Noah to join forces. She was the mastermind, of course. Noah, just as eager to annoy Ash as always, had probably been cackling in the background, delighted by their shared victory. Ash could practically hear the smug satisfaction in their voices every time they pulled off one of these pranks.
And it worked.
Every. Single. Time.
They knew just what buttons to push, what strings to pull.
I swear I’m gonna leave this house one day.
He grabbed it without thinking.
Jason?
Of course. Just the right person to get mad on.
He stared at the caller ID for a second. The profile picture was hilarious- Jason doing double finger guns with the worst sunglasses imaginable.
He sighed and picked up. “What.”
“What’s cooking, good looking?” came Jason’s too-cheerful voice.
Your dumb-
Ash rolled his eyes. “Burnt Pancakes.”
There was a beat of silence. “Wait, you’re cooking pancakes? Like... by choice? With your own hands?”
“Yes,” Ash said flatly. “I can cook many things.”
Jason snorted. “Yeah, as if. I would rather die than eat a dish made by you.”
Oh this is on. Get ready to die.
Ash smiled, “Just say that you don’t eat a dish that’s home-made. Admit that you eat takeout everyday before going to that stupid academy.”
Jason gasped through the phone. Ash could imagine the look on his face. “Excuse you, mister. I eat premium takeout. Only because I don’t know where to spend my money.”
Ash couldn’t help but chuckle at Jason’s usual attempt at deflecting.
He could practically hear the dramatic gasp coming from the other end of the line. It was so Jason - all show. But Ash wasn’t going to let him get away with it.
“Oh, premium, huh?” Ash raised an eyebrow, flipping the pancake and giving it a little more attention than it probably deserved.
“You remember that time when you treated me and Lucas to that premium takeout? They had ketchup as their signature sauce.”
“Hey! It’s ketchup I paid for, okay?” Jason shot back, clearly too pleased with himself to care. “But fine, I’ll admit, maybe I’m a little bit of a takeout addict. You know, it’s a lifestyle. It’s called ‘efficiency,’ Ash.”
You ain’t fooling me.
Ash snorted. “Right. Efficiency,” he said, emphasizing the word.
Jason laughed, but then the tone shifted slightly. “You’ve got me there, man. You’ve got me.” He sighed dramatically, and Ash could almost picture him leaning back in whatever chair he was lounging in.
“But seriously, I do have something important to tell you. That's why I’m calling.”
Huh?
Ash’s heart skipped a beat, momentarily distracted. He could always tell when Jason was about to drop something serious into the conversation. Jason had a way of leading into important things like it was no big deal - until it actually was. Ash suddenly felt himself standing a little straighter, even though he was still half-focused on the pancakes.
“Wait, what? What’s going on?” Ash tried to sound casual, but there was a slight edge to his voice now. Jason wasn’t the type to hype something up for no reason.
“Alright, alright,” Jason continued, almost like he was enjoying the suspense. “Can you come by Sunday? I need you to hear this in person. You’re gonna flip. It’s not something I can just text you, you know? It’s gotta be face-to-face. You’re free, right?”
Ash stood frozen in place, spatula still hovering in mid-air, his mind spinning.
Face-to-face?
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “What is it? You’re seriously not going to tell me? You know I hate surprises.”
Jason chuckled, clearly enjoying the fact that he had Ash right where he wanted him. “You’re not gonna get it out of me, buddy. I need you there. Besides, it will be Sunday, remember?”
Noooooooooooo, My sunday!!
Ash narrowed his eyes. “You’re not gonna try to drag me into some ridiculous prank, are you?”
Jason groaned on the other end, clearly exasperated. “Dude, I’m not pulling you into some weird game. I just need you here. Can’t say more right now. Trust me, it’s gonna be worth it.”
My weekends always go by with no sleep these days.
Ash raised an eyebrow. “Well, if you really want me there, I suppose I’ll make an appearance. But don’t expect me to show up in any kind of good mood, you’re literally calling me out on Sunday.”
“Deal,” Jason said, practically beaming through the phone. “You’re gonna love this, I swear.”
Ash let out a breath, his earlier doubts melting away just slightly.
I wonder what it’s about?“Alright, alright,” Ash said, shaking his head, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “Fine. I’ll be there. Just send me the address.”
“I’ll send it to you right now,” Jason replied with a grin in his voice. “I’ll be waiting. Don’t be-!”
Ash tapped the decline button.
He smirked.
That’s what you get for teasing me all call and then dropping a cliffhanger. I'm not giving you the satisfaction of a full goodbye, idiot.
And sure enough - three seconds later - ding!
A message flashed across his screen. Jason.
Jason: you didn’t even let me finish my sentence <:( i hate u
Jason: here's the address. don’t be late or i’m going to come and drag you by the ear. i swear to god ash
Ash didn’t even hide his grin as he typed back.
Ash: serves you right.
He hit send.
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Then paused.
Satisfied, he dropped the phone beside his half-cooked pancake, which was now looking a little too brown on one side. He flipped it without really caring.
His mind wasn’t on breakfast anymore.
It was still on Jason. And whatever this was.
The way he’d sounded… that mix of amusement and something else. It wasn’t like Jason to call like this. To say, “I need you to hear this in person.”
Jason was loud, reckless. So when he started sounding cagey or serious, Ash listened. Not that he’d ever admit it aloud, of course.
Face-to-face, Jason had said.
Tomorrow.
Ash ran a hand over his face.
He hated this. The suspense. The waiting. The way his brain wouldn’t shut up now, running through a million possible scenarios. Something good? Something bad? What if someone got hurt? What if it was about the elections?
...No. Jason might not even know. Ash had never told him about that.
Why is everyone so dramatic this week?
First Lily and Noah turned his ringtone into… this stupid sunshine thingy. Then Jason calling him up like he was about to tell him his will. What next? Lucas showing up with a confession that Blake died?
Yeah. Nothing great like that is ever gonna happen any sooner.
He groaned and pushed the plate of pancakes toward himself.
But just as he picked up the fork-
“WOAH!” came a sudden voice from the staircase.
Ash didn’t even flinch. He just slowly turned his head like someone who had already accepted defeat in life.
Noah.
His little brother was standing in the hallway, hair a mess, face still sleepy- but with eyes that had locked on the pancakes like they were gold bars.
“I would LOVE to eat those,” Noah declared dramatically, clutching his chest. “Pretty please with a cherry on top?”
Ash gave him a dead look. “Sure. I made them for you.”
“Really?” Noah lit up.
No.
Ash shoved the plate toward him with a sigh. “Knock yourself out.”
“You’re the best, big brother!”
Yeah. That’s what they say before betraying you with cringe phone ringtones.
Noah happily grabbed the fork and dug in.
Ash got up and left the room without another word.
Upstairs, his bedroom was quiet. He sat down and opened the book.
Might as well finish the homework today. Sunday's already sold out.
His hands moved across the page.
And his brain- loud, relentless, half-focused- was already playing out the worst-case scenarios for tomorrow.
I wonder what it is that Jason wants to tell me.
—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Ugh. I hate grocery shopping. Mom always does this on Saturdays.
It wasn’t even a little hate. It was full, soul-deep hate. He got irritated and annoyed by people in the market. When the cashier scanned something twice. Don’t even get started when Ash sees someone park a cart at a weird angle in the aisle like he owns the place.
And yet- here he was.
Mom had insisted. Apparently, they were out of the essentials. Which somehow included flour, peanut butter, two different types of cereal, and... glitter glue? Ash didn’t even ask. He never asked. Just when he was about to leave the home with as much silence s he could muster, came the little gremlin’s too-cheerful voice.
.
.
“I wanna go too, big brother!”
Ash turned to see Noah standing at the hallway entrance, face already wobbling. His bottom lip was trembling. His eyes were glassy, and he clutched the hem of his too-big cartoon t-shirt like it was the last shred of hope he had.
“Noah-”
“You always go without me!” Noah sniffled, voice cracking just enough to draw Mom’s attention from the kitchen.
Ash groaned inwardly. Great.
“It’s Saturday,” Mom called out, wiping her hands with a dish towel. “Let him come with you. He’s been cooped up all morning.”
“I wasn’t cooped, I was just-”
“Take him, Ash,” she said again, firmer this time, with that look that meant no arguments.
Ash looked back at Noah- who was now blinking rapidly like the world had ended.
“Fine,” he muttered. “But if you touch anything and force me to buy it, I’m leaving you right there.”
“Promise!”
.
.
And now, here he was slumped into the cracked plastic seat of the bus, the grocery bag crumpled at his feet and Noah plopping right next to him with far too much enthusiasm for a kid who was just tagging along.
Noah kicked his legs under the seat, humming something off-key, then leaned forward to press his tiny nose against the window, leaving a foggy smudge behind. “I love Saturdays,” he declared proudly, breath fogging up the glass. “And Sundays. They're the best days in the whole world.”
I wish I thought that too. Saturdays are grocery buying days and Sundays are hangouts. Apparently, this Sunday is all Jason’s.
Ash raised an eyebrow and leaned back into the seat. “Because you don’t have school?”
Noah turned his head dramatically, eyes wide. “Exactly! No school, no homework. And we get to hang out.”
Ash gave him a sideways glance. “You mean, this is a hangout?”
As if.
Noah grinned, unfazed. “Yeah!”
Ash sighed and closed his eyes for a second, feeling the rhythm of the bus bounce through his spine. “You’re lucky. When you hit high school, weekends don’t even feel like weekends anymore. They’re just extra time to finish what you didn’t finish during the week.”
Noah made a face. “That sounds like the worst thing ever.”
You’re lucky you’re young.
“It is.” Ash muttered, not even trying to sugarcoat it. “Saturdays used to be cool. I used to wake up late and eat ice-cream for breakfast. Now I wake up late and feel guilty about it.”
“Because of homework?” Noah tilted his head.
“And projects. And assignments. And revision. And the constant pressure to not fail and ruin your entire future.”
Noah blinked. “Whoa.”
“Yeah.” Ash snorted. “Enjoy third grade while it lasts, Noah.”
“I know it’s gonna be awesome when I start high school!” Noah puffed his chest out. “I will have many best friends, and, to top it all off, I will be everyone’s bestest friend!”
Ash didn’t say anything to that.
He didn’t have the heart to.
Because all he could think of was how his own high school years so far had been spent memorizing the times Blake’s gang usually skipped class and hung out or what or who was his victim.
Noah thought everyone was kind. That people shared snacks and drew doodles in each other’s notebooks and saved empty seats during lunch.
He’s too innocent.
But Noah didn’t know what was going in Ash’s mind. Oblivious, he continued whatever he had been telling Ash.
“We have two recesses now. One is after math.”
Oh. Get your head in the game!
“Um…That’s called recovery time.”
The bus turned a corner with a squeal, and Noah grabbed the pole beside him for support, then turned to face Ash again with excitement.
“But on weekends,” he said, voice a little softer now, “I wanna spend my entire time with you!”
Ash blinked.
Awwwww-
He tried to roll his eyes, tried to keep his smirk up, but something about the way Noah said it- like it was a secret he was sharing- made it hard.
“I mean,” Noah added quickly, “when you're not grumpy. Or when you don't make me carry the eggs on the way back home.”
Ash let out a laugh. “Oh, so I’m only your favorite brother when I’m not being mean?”
“You’re my only brother,” Noah said with a grin.
“That sounds like an insult.”
“No, it means you win by default!”
Seriously, though. It made my day a hundred times better.
Ash chuckled, shaking his head. “Wow. I’m so honored.”
Noah leaned back again, still smiling. “But really… I like going places with you. Even if it’s boring grocery stuff.”
Ash paused.
His fingers drummed quietly on his knee. The bus let out a wheezy cough as it reached the market stop.
Ash stood up, slinging the bag over one shoulder and grabbing Noah’s wrist with the other. “Alright. Let’s get this over with.”
Ash stepped off the bus with Noah’s tiny wrist loosely gripped in his hand.
The market was already breathing noise. Vendors shouting prices. Cars honking even though there was nowhere to move. A lady talking too loudly on the phone while dragging a squeaky-wheeled trolley behind her. Ash grimaced. This is exactly what I hate about Saturdays.
“Look, look!” Noah pointed to a stall overflowing with neon-colored slime tubs. “That one has glitter in it. Just like the one we have at school!”
“Yeah? That’s great,” Ash said, tugging him away before Noah’s interest turned into a request. “Let’s finish the list before I go insane.”
They weaved through the aisles- vegetables first. Flour is heavy, so that could wait till the end. Peanut butter- check. Cereal. Ash squinted at the list. Two types. Why two types?
“I want the chocolate balls!” Noah was already on tiptoe, pointing at the higher shelf. “And this one too. The one that turns milk pink.”
Ash raised an eyebrow. There isn’t a specific cereal box to take so I suppose we can take any.
Ash muttered under his breath but reached up for the boxes anyway, balancing both in one arm while still keeping a hold on Noah’s hand. “Alright. Next- glitter glue.”
“Big sister told you that we’re doing crafts?” Noah asked, craning his neck to look at the list too.
“She didn’t tell me. It’s just on the list.” Ash said, then suddenly looked at Noah, “Don’t prank me with your art and crafts projects, okay?
Noah giggled.
Yeah. That’s definitely mischievous.
They walked through the aisles. Noah had started his usual routine of examining random items, picking things up off shelves and then putting them back in a huff, claiming they weren’t exactly what he wanted. Ash couldn’t help but smile at the little routine.
But that’s when it happened. The bump.
It came out of nowhere, a heavy collision that sent a jolt of panic through him. One moment, he was walking, Noah’s tiny hand still firmly clutched in his, and the next-
A cart.
A woman in a rush, a shopping cart careening down the aisle, barely missing Ash’s legs but scraping against his side, knocking his arm and nearly making him stumble. She was apologizing as she passed, too distracted by her own urgency to notice how much she had just upended Ash’s sense of balance.
What’s the rush, lady?!
He adjusted his grip on the grocery bag hanging from his shoulder, annoyed more by the sudden jolt than anything else. He glanced down to make sure Noah was still beside him, but-
The hand.
It wasn’t there.
Noah was gone.
His heart skipped a beat. He blinked, his gaze darting around the aisles. Nothing.
Noah?
His eyes scanned through the shifting mass of shoppers, the carts moving in a predictable pattern, the blur of colors around him.
There.
A flash of yellow. A corner of Noah’s cartoon shirt flitting between two aisles in the distance. Ash’s pulse quickened. He took a step forward, but when he reached the spot where he thought he’d seen Noah, there was only a woman with a stack of boxes, carefully inspecting the labels. No sign of his little brother.
Wait. He couldn’t have just disappeared. He couldn’t have gone far.
Ash pivoted sharply, turning his head in every direction, hoping to catch a glimpse of his brother's tiny frame. The aisle was just wide enough for him to move freely, but too crowded for him to see anything clearly. There was no sign of Noah, no bright yellow shirt bouncing through the space.
“Hey, Noah?!” Ash’s voice rose, cutting through the noise around him. His throat felt tight, the words almost choking as they left his mouth.
Nothing.
He pushed through a crowd of people, a knot tightening in his chest. His fingers gripped the handle of the grocery bag so tightly that his knuckles ached. Where the hell is he?
And then it hit him, the fear creeping up from his stomach, spreading through his limbs like a cold wave.
What if he got lost?
A cold sweat broke out on Ash’s forehead. His eyes darted from person to person, each face a blur of indifference, not the least bit concerned about the boy who might be standing just a few feet away, maybe scared, maybe confused. His throat felt tight again.
“Noah!” This time, his voice cracked.
His eyes flicked up to the shelves, down to the floor, and then- his gaze snapped over to a corner near the snack aisle where Noah might’ve gone to grab something he wanted. But the corner was empty.
Panic crept in. This wasn’t just about groceries anymore. It was something much worse.
His chest tightened as he pushed past a group of teenagers with their arms full of chips and soda, hands shaking slightly. “Noah?!” His voice was louder now, more desperate, but still there was no answer. Just the blur of shoppers, lost in their own little worlds.
Stay calm. He’s fine. He has to be fine.
Ash told himself that, but the words felt hollow. He took another step forward, scanning the faces around him, trying to block out the chaos that seemed to be swallowing him whole. His gaze flicked across the aisle again.
Nothing.
Panic surged in his chest. His voice cracked again. “Noah?” The word was more a plea now than anything else, hanging in the air, unanswered.
He turned again, scanning the faces, the aisles, each second more agonizing than the last. Where are you?
Ash was running now.
First to the snack aisle. Then the dairy section. Then near the checkout lines. He weaved in and out of crowds, bumping shoulders, muttering apologies he didn’t mean. He even darted into the toy aisle- just in case- but all he found there were toddlers screaming over plushies and a mother arguing with a cashier about expired coupons.
He couldn’t have left the store. Could he?