The shrill ring of an alarm clock drilled into Elias's skull.
He groaned, rolled over, and smacked it off without looking. Another day in the glamorous life of an 18-year-old high school senior who lived alone… glamorous meaning cold leftover curry and maybe instant ramen if he felt fancy.
His small one-room apartment was the picture of bachelor minimalism: one futon, one desk, one chair, one sink piled high with exactly one too many dirty dishes.
He sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. His mixed features stared back at him in the mirror mounted on his closet door—his mother's sharp Japanese lines, his father's deep, rich skin tone toned a few shades lighter, and a body sculpted more by pull-ups on the balcony than any gym membership.
Handsome enough that random girls sometimes stared. Handsome enough that teachers thought he "wasn't applying himself" on purpose. Handsome enough to be trouble, basically.
The phone buzzed. Mom.
He swiped the call open and was immediately greeted by her no-nonsense voice.
"Elias, are you eating properly? You didn't answer my text last night."
"Morning to you too, Mom. Yes, I ate. No, it wasn't just cup ramen. Yes, I washed my clothes. And no, I'm not skipping school."
She sighed like she didn't believe a word.
"I just don't understand why you insisted on living alone in Tokyo when your father and I—"
"Because it's closer to school. And because you and Dad are busy being perfect examples of overachievers in Osaka."
There was a pause. Then her softer voice:
"We just worry. You're still our son."
He smirked. "Don't worry, Mom. I'm too handsome to die young."
She groaned and hung up before he could hear her laugh.
By the time he left his apartment, the street was alive with the morning rush—salarymen power-walking, kids in uniforms half-awake, the smell of fresh bread from the corner bakery.
At the school gates, a familiar voice called out.
"Yo, Elias!"
Takumi jogged up beside him, grinning like an idiot. Elias's one loyal friend, the same guy he'd defended years ago from a pack of bullies. Back then, Elias thought Takumi's parents might tell him to stay away, but instead they'd thanked him and insisted he visit whenever he wanted.
"Late again?" Takumi asked, eyeing Elias's half-tucked shirt.
"I was meditating on the importance of being fashionably late," Elias deadpanned.
Takumi snorted. "More like fashionably lazy."
They walked into homeroom together, dodging a teacher's glare. The morning dragged—math, Japanese literature, history—all things Elias could survive with enough doodling in the margins. Teachers didn't exactly love him. Not because he caused trouble, but because he seemed immune to their lectures.
Lunch was their daily escape. They sat under the sakura tree in the courtyard.
Takumi unwrapped his bento while Elias pulled out a sandwich that looked like it had been made by someone with a personal vendetta against bread.
"You're hopeless," Takumi said.
"And you're too nice to tell me that every day," Elias replied, taking a bite.
They bantered about the latest game updates, upcoming light novel releases, and Takumi's hopeless crush on a second-year who probably didn't know his name. It was… normal. Elias liked normal.
For now.
He didn't know it yet, but today would be the last truly normal day he'd have for a long, long time.