The mountain was steep, and Aaron's boots practically disappeared under the thick snow. A harsh, biting wind whipped across his face, numbing every bit of exposed skin. Teeth chattering, he pushed onwards—it couldn't be much further to the summit. Then, without warning, everything shifted. The blizzard vanished, the winds hushed, and the snow-filled air gave way to a breathtaking view. He was at the top, surrounded by the tips of clouds and bathed in warm, golden sunlight.
He'd made it.
A deep rumble suddenly shook the ground beneath him. Aaron looked around in confusion, trying to make sense of what was happening, when an alarm shrieked in his ear. His balance faltered, and within seconds, he was flailing his arms like a fish out of water—and then he fell...
He jerked up in bed, heart racing. The nauseous twist in his stomach faded slowly as he reached over and silenced the ringing phone. What a terrible way to start the day. With a groan, he stretched his arms and slid out of bed. Half an hour until school—perfect. Just enough time to get ready and scarf down some breakfast.
Dragging his feet into the bathroom, he caught sight of himself in the mirror. His hair was a mess. No surprises there. He grabbed his toothbrush, added a blob of toothpaste, and got to work brushing. After rinsing and splashing cold water on his face, he ran a brush through his wild hair before heading to his closet. He picked out a new pair of pants and, of course, his favorite T-shirt—the one with the anthropomorphic cat sitting on a hill, gazing up at a starry sky. It had been a gift, and he loved it with all his heart. Still a bit loose, which meant he could keep wearing it for a while longer.
He checked the clock again—fifteen minutes to go. Heading downstairs, he found his mom already at the table, breakfast done and ready.
"I was just about to call you," she teased, fully aware he always woke up on time. "Breakfast is all ready, and I packed your lunch too." She pointed to the lunchbox sitting by the counter.
"Thanks, Mom," he said, sliding into a chair beside her as he tucked into some toast and egg. "Where's Dad?"
"He left for work early today. Something came up in his research that his colleagues needed to go over."
His mom didn't quite understand the full scope of what his dad did. He was a lead scientist, well-respected in the field of genetic engineering. But he understood. He'd had a love for biology since he was little.
Finishing up, he wiped the crumbs from his mouth, washed his dishes, and laced up his sneakers. After giving his mom a quick hug, he headed out the door.
School was as uneventful as always. He didn't see himself as "special," but the teachers certainly did. Schoolwork just... clicked. It always had, probably always would. He saw problems from strange angles—ones most people wouldn't even think to look from. It was weird. Even he thought so.
He kept to just two friends. That was enough. People weren't really his thing, and social interaction? Way more difficult than biochemistry. Thankfully, those two were in the same class, so sticking together was easy.
Even with friends by his side, he spent most of his free time in the library, nose buried in whatever book caught his eye. Books were his escape. Sure, he loved video games (and had an Xbox to prove it), but stories—the written kind—just hit differently. They stuck with him longer.
At the end of the day, he packed up his things and made his way home, the weight of routine settling gently back onto his shoulders.