He read it again... the text. For the fourth time now, without blinking.
"Was I dreaming? No... I don't think so."
He got off the bed, pulled on his sweatshirt, then joggers. Shoes, socks—routine.
Every morning, same ritual: go for a run. But before stepping outside, he checked himself in the mirror—thoroughly.
"Why am I like this?" he muttered. "Why do I have oily skin, greasy hair, and on top of that... I'm ugly as hell. Why, oh Lord, why?"
This was his daily tradition—discouraging himself. No one knew why. Not even he did. Maybe God did.
"Hey, Mom, Dad! I'm heading out for a run! Don't wait for me for breakfast, okay? If you feel hungry, eat something! Think of this as your own home, Mr. and Mrs. Sho—don't feel shy!"
He let out a short giggle at his own joke.
His mom's voice shot back.
"What did you just say? Who are you calling by name, huh? We're your parents—Honey!! Your son's misbehaving again!"
Ryan bolted out the door.
You guessed it—his surname was Sho. Ryan Sho.
His mom worked as a part-time cooking assistant at a restaurant. His dad worked in an office. Besides them, Ryan had a small but solid friend circle: Bob, Danny, Gary 1 and Gary 2 (yes, same name, hence the numbers), Alex, and last but not least—Prenston.
High school life. That was his comfort zone.
"Hey Ryan!! Wait up!"
He turned back. It was Gary 1.
"Hey, Gary Bary! You stalking me or what, naughty boy? Haha—told you I'm not interested," Ryan teased.
Gary rolled his eyes.
"Yeah yeah, say whatever. Just don't say things like that—it makes me vomit."
They both burst into laughter.
"Let's go call the others—they're late. I've got something to tell you guys," Ryan said.
Gary noticed a flicker of seriousness mixed with excitement in Ryan's eyes.
They rounded up the group. Bob—handsome, intelligent, and always surrounded by girls. Gary 2 and Alex—soccer fanatics. Prenston—a repeater, but a loyal guy.
They weren't just friends. They were brothers from other mothers.
Their hideout was an old, broken-down house. Secret. Sacred.
"Guys, I've got something to tell you," Ryan said, breaking the silence.
But before he could continue, Gary 1 jumped in.
"Wait—I've got something to tell you, Ryan."
My heart stopped. Was I dreaming?
"Ariana was asking about you, bro."
My jaw dropped.
"You're f***ing kidding me?"
Gary's serious face said otherwise.
"Well well," Danny smirked. "Looks like it's going down today at school, Ryan boy."
I kicked him, blushing, and ran. He chased. We all ran—laughing, yelling like idiots.
But inside me? A storm.
Worried. Happy. Nervous. Excited.
What did Ariana want to tell me?