Derrick woke at eight, the city already humming below his window.
He rose with the same deliberate grace—shoulders back, steps silent, eyes scanning the empty room like it might hold secrets. The bathroom mirror reflected the usual: silver hair falling just so, porcelain skin, dark blue eyes that cut like winter glass. He didn't linger.
Wardrobe next. Rows of black: coats, long-sleeve shirts, trousers. He picked one of each, the fabric cool against his skin, and stepped into the morning.
The street noticed him immediately.
Women paused mid-stride, conversations dying on their lips. Fantasies flickered in their eyes. He felt the stares but ignored them, a shadow moving through sunlight.
His favorite restaurant waited at the end of the block—all polished wood and quiet elegance. He claimed the last table by the window, back to the wall, view of the world outside. The waitress approached, menu in hand, cheeks already flushing. He ordered without glancing at it. She nodded, hurried away.
He stared at the passing crowd, thoughts drifting like smoke.
"Your order, sir," she said, setting the plate down.
He ate in silence, mechanical, efficient.
Across the city, Kate slipped into heels that clicked like judgment.
"Jane, I'm downstairs!"
"Coming!" Jane's voice echoed from above.
Twenty minutes ticked by. Jane finally appeared—shirt loose, trousers casual, sneakers scuffed. Kate's short gown skimmed her knees, simple but sharp. They stepped out together, and the world turned to watch.
Admiring glances followed them to the restaurant. They pushed through the doors, scanned the room—and froze.
Derrick, alone by the window.
Kate's pulse quickened. Jane's face burned.
"Isn't that—" Jane whispered.
"It's him," Kate murmured. "Must be tired of hiding inside, I guess."
Jane hesitated. "We're doing this?"
Kate smiled, soft and sad. He looks alone.
They crossed to his table. Derrick saw them coming. Pretended he didn't.
"You know our brother doesn't get tired of being alone," Jane said, forcing a smile.
I just want him to be happy. Smiling when I see him. I love him so much, Kate thought, chest tight.
"Well, after we eat, let's say hi," Kate suggested.
"What?" Jane exclaimed, blush exploding. I can't see him now. He's too much. I'll die of embarrassment. He's my twin, my younger brother, and I still… I can't help falling for him.
A few moments later, Kate stood. "Hi, Derrick."
"Hi," he replied, eyes on the window.
Jane hovered behind, heart hammering.
"What brings you here?" Kate asked, sliding into a chair.
"My favorite spot," he said, finally turning.
Kate's breath caught. My god, he's handsome.
Jane hid her face. Frosted allure. That's what this is.
"Wow," Kate said warmly. "Didn't know you were a fan."
"Nope," Derrick answered, calm as night. "Not a fan."
He's so cool, they both thought, the words echoing in unison.
By 21:00, the last of the daylight had bled away.
Derrick perched on the tower's edge, sixty meters of void below, pizza box open on his knee. The city sprawled like a glittering web, indifferent stars winking overhead.
Not bad, he thought, chewing slowly. Bar after this. Should clear my head.
He crumpled the empty box and let it tumble into the night.
Then he jumped.
The family house hummed with warmth.
Kate stood in the kitchen, knife hovering mid-air, slicing onions with a flick of her mind. The blade obeyed like an extension of her will.
Derrick saw the text flash on his phone mid-leap.
Jane: Will you come for dinner tonight?
He landed without a sound, thumbs tapping.
Yeah. One hour.
Jane: Alright. I'll be waiting.
He pocketed it and kept walking.
The bar was dim and familiar. Tom gave a nod from behind the counter and reached for a bottle. "Usual?" he asked, selecting a premium glass.
"Hi-Res wine," Derrick said, sinking onto his stool.
Tom poured, the premium glass glinting as he slid it over the counter. "Rare sighting. What's up?"
"Indoors mostly," Derrick said. "Strolls, sometimes."
"Bad for the health." Tom wiped the bar with a cloth. "How do you work?"
"I don't," Derrick replied flatly.
Tom whistled, leaning back. "Independent wealth, huh? Lucky man."
A woman entered—high status, heels clicking like secrets. She slid onto the stool beside him.
"Tom. Malt." Then, to Derrick: "Hey."
"Irene," he said, eyes forward.
She giggled behind her glass before taking a sip, "How you doing?"
"Cool."
"Hang out tomorrow?"
"No comment."
"That's a yes." She drained her glass, leaned in, kissed his cheek—soft, lingering.
The bar went silent. She left without a backward glance.
Derrick touched the spot, waited a beat, then followed.
The doorbell rang at 22:00 sharp.
Kate answered, apron dusted with flour. Her face lit up. "You came."
Derrick stepped inside, sat in the living room, checked his Rolex. Precise.
He flicked on the TV, low volume.
Jane shuffled down the stairs, eyes half-shut, yawning. She dropped onto the couch, instinctively curling against the warm shape beside her, head on his shoulder.
A heartbeat.
Two.
Her eyes snapped open.
Derrick didn't move, gaze fixed on the screen.
Jane bolted upright, face aflame, and fled to the dining room.
Kate's voice carried from the kitchen. "Food's ready!"
Derrick rose, took the seat beside her, and ate in silence.
Ten minutes later, plate clean, he climbed the stairs to his room.
Kate followed soon after.
Moonlight slanted through the window. He sat in the rocking chair, staring at the city's distant pulse.
She slipped behind him, arms wrapping his shoulders, chin on his head.
"Brother," she murmured, grin warm against his hair. "How was your day?"
"Same as ever."
She tilted his face up, smiled, and pressed a quick kiss to his lips—light, affectionate, gone in a blink.
"Goodnight, Derrick."
She giggled and slipped out, leaving the door ajar.
Derrick sat in the dark, unreadable, the city lights flickering like forgotten stars.
The next morning.
Kate looked up as footsteps echoed on the stairs.
"Good morning, Derrick."
"Morning," he replied, descending with his usual quiet grace. He took a seat at the table, plate already waiting.
Kate's heart skipped. I can't believe I kissed him last night. My feelings just got stronger.
Upstairs, Jane stared at the ceiling. He's my twin. My younger brother. Why can't I just… be normal around him? Like Kate. This is exhausting. She sighed, rolled out of bed, and headed down.
Derrick glanced up as she entered. Their eyes locked.
Jane's face ignited. She grabbed her plate and bolted back upstairs.
Kate missed the whole thing, humming over the stove.
Derrick finished, stood. "Bye, Kate."
Her pulse raced. "Bye, Derrick," she said, smiling through the ache as he left.
Twenty-five minutes later, Jane reappeared—red short gown, matching heels, ready for the world.
"Jane, I'm heading to work."
"Aren't you the owner of that world-class hospital?" Jane shot back, eyeing Kate's cream sheath dress, short coat, heels, and handbag. All matching, all flawless.
"Yes, but I still show up. Same reason you're off to your top-five global company, CEO." Kate grabbed her bag.
Without a word, Jane turned and disappeared through the door. A moment later, the low hum of her exotic car echoed from the garage, followed by the whisper of the electric gate opening. She drove away without a backward glance, leaving the vast compound in silence.
Derrick's house was silent.
He lounged in the living room, novel in one hand, audiophile headphones blasting music. He paused, checked the wall clock: 15:10.
Off, he thought. He grabbed a ladder, climbed up to fix it—and slipped.
Headphones shattered. Clock smashed. Derrick hit the floor hard.
Unscathed.
He rose, swept the debris away, then faced the mirror. Twenty-four. And I've stopped aging. Jane too. Kate last year. Seems we freeze at twenty-four.
He dressed: black tailored coat, long-sleeve shirt, trousers. Always black. Always aesthetic.
Outside, he glanced at his shadow. 13:30. Need a new headset and a clock.
Irene's car pulled up, pulling his gaze from the shadow at his feet. He got in.
"Why no car of your own?" she asked, happy as always.
"Don't need one." Eyes forward.
"Where to today?"
"Electronics store." Nonchalant.
They arrived. He bought: new audiophile headphones, premium clock. Done.
Jane stepped out of her company building.
Fog rolled in—dark, unnatural, swallowing the sky.
A short figure emerged, shambling towards her.
Clairvoyance kicked in: a creature, twisted, unknown.
It charged, short sword flashing.
The blade shattered on impact.
Jane's telekinesis surged—weaker than Kate's, but enough. She slammed it into the wall with a crack.
Then ran.
Out the gates—into apocalypse. Chaos unfolding before her eyes.