A warm bowl of soup was placed on the table, steam rising gently from it, carrying a familiar aroma that instantly stirred their appetite. Their stomachs rumbled; even Alvano, who sat down last, couldn't hide his smile as he inhaled the scent of his grandfather's cooking. The rich chicken broth mixed with spices made every sense feel the comfort of home.
Alvano had just come down from the second floor, fresh clothes fitting comfortably on his body. He pulled out a chair and sat beside Theo. A small smile formed on his face as he took his first sip of soup. "Hmm… as always, sir… it's delicious," he said, eyes sparkling as he looked at his grandfather.
They ate slowly, chatting lightly about their day. Theo talked about some things he had just finished dealing with, and Alvano chimed in with small stories from school. The topic shifted to Theo's condition. Alvano was a bit surprised to see his friend looking completely recovered. "You… really are okay now, huh?" he asked.
Grandpa Alvano, ladling soup into his own bowl, smiled faintly as if he could read the boys' emotions. His voice was calm, simple, but carried a deep understanding. "I always believed, son… Theo would be fine."
Alvano swallowed quickly, feeling slightly embarrassed. "Don't mention that, sir," he whispered, flustered. "Don't tell him I spent days at school lonely and crying without Theo around."
Theo looked at him with a mischievous smile, patting his back lightly. "Well, if I ever become a celebrity with a crazy schedule, you'll have to get used to being alone, Van," he teased, warm and lighthearted.
Grandpa chuckled softly, his warm voice adding to the cozy atmosphere. The laughter didn't just blend into the moment—it soothed. The warmth that had been lost earlier in the tense, exhausting day returned to the small house.
Alvano glanced at Theo. There was relief and gratitude in his eyes. Even though Theo wasn't staying long, his presence brought a sense of safety that was hard to describe. For Theo, moments like this were a simple blessing—living alone but being able to feel the warmth of another home, laughing, and enjoying homemade soup filled with care.
They kept eating, talking, and laughing. That night, the aroma of warm soup, the soft light from the lamp, and their gentle laughter formed a small harmony that let the day's tension slowly fade. For Alvano and Theo, it wasn't just dinner—it was a reminder that even when the world outside was heavy, there was home, family, and a friend to return to.
After dinner, the clinking of spoons and bowls was replaced by the sound of running water from the kitchen. Alvano rolled up his sleeves and began washing the dishes. Warm steam rose from the soapy water as he hummed quietly, trying to shake off the drowsiness creeping in. The lingering smell of soup made the air feel peaceful.
Theo had just set the last bowl down when Grandpa Alvano slowly stood up. "Theo," he called softly, though something unreadable sat beneath his tone. "Come with me to the back for a moment."
Theo stiffened. A quiet exhale slipped out of him, but the anxiety didn't leave. His eyes drifted toward Alvano in the kitchen before returning to the old man's back as he walked toward the backyard.
He followed him.
When the sliding door opened, the cold night air brushed against their skin. The yard was dim, lit only by a pale yellow exterior lamp. It was the place where they had trained for days—where sweat, laughter, and a few complaints had all blended together.
But tonight felt different. Silent.
Grandpa stopped in the middle of the yard and looked up at the sky before saying, "Theo… your body is much better than a few days ago. But that's not what I want to talk about."
Theo's heart dropped.
In an instant, dark memories from middle school crept back from the corners of his mind. That incident—the one meant to stay locked away after his memory was sealed. Ever since those memories suddenly resurfaced, the empty space inside him felt filled again—but with it came fear… fear that Grandpa Alvano knew.
Theo swallowed. His hands were sweating even in the cold night air.
"W-What do you want to talk about, sir?" he asked softly.
Grandpa looked at him with wise, sharp eyes as though he could see straight through him.
"There's something I want to make sure of," he said quietly. "And only you can answer honestly."
The air around Theo felt tighter. Every second stretched painfully long. He wasn't sure if Grandpa truly knew… or was just guessing.
But the question Grandpa Alvano finally asked wasn't what Theo expected. Not about his memories. Not about middle school. Not about the sealed parts of his mind.
"Theo… I want you to be honest," he said, voice warm but firm. "What really happened that someone would attack you on purpose? There's no way a random stranger would suddenly hit a passing rider with a baseball bat."
Theo froze. The words struck his anxiety—yet brought a bit of relief too.
So Grandpa wasn't bringing up the resurfaced memories. This was still on the surface. Something he might be able to explain without revealing everything.
But his chest still tightened. "I-I don't know, sir. Maybe that guy—"
Grandpa shook his head gently, his faint smile sharp like someone who has seen too much of life. "Theo, son. If you can't be honest with Alvano, that's fine. But with me… think of me as someone you can come home to. You don't need to pretend to be strong."
Those words cracked the walls Theo had built.
He exhaled shakily, staring at the ground as if the answer was buried there. "I'm sorry… I just… don't want to trouble anyone."
"Just tell me," Grandpa said softly.
Theo clenched his fists. For a moment, the scene from a few days ago resurfaced—wet dirt, hurried footsteps, and faces that were anything but unfamiliar. "That time… after I left here, I… got cornered by school delinquents."
He looked up slightly, swallowing the shame and bitterness rising in his chest. "They beat me up badly, sir. It all happened so suddenly. I thought they just wanted to scare me… but it wasn't that simple. And I think… the person who attacked us on the road… might've been sent by them."
Grandpa Alvano listened without interrupting. His gaze stayed warm, but something in his eyes changed—worry, and a restrained anger simmering beneath.
"I see…" he murmured.
Theo lowered his head again. "I didn't want Alvano to worry. He already has enough on his mind. So I… kept quiet."
Grandpa took a deep breath and placed a gentle hand on Theo's shoulder. The touch wasn't empty comfort—it grounded him, warming his chest.
"Theo," he said, "you need to be careful from now on. Don't provoke anything, don't fight back. You just woke up from a coma… your body hasn't fully recovered. I don't want to see you fall again."
Theo bit his lip, holding back the emotions welling up. "Okay, sir… I'll be careful."
"Good." Grandpa gave him a small smile, soft as the lamp illuminating the yard. "Whatever happens, you're not alone. Remember that."
For the first time that night, Theo felt his breath come easier. A weight lifted—just a little—enough to make his steps lighter as he turned toward the warm little house behind him.