The walk home felt shorter than it should have.
The lights along the street were already on, warm and soft, like they'd been waiting for him. The Yaoyorozu house faded behind him, tall and quiet, until it was just another shadow among many.
Elias stopped in front of his own gate.
Normal.
Very normal.
He slid it open, stepped inside, and shut it behind him.
The house smelled like food.
That was… comforting.
"Elias?" his mom called from inside. "Is that you?"
"Yeah," he said, kicking off his shoes and lining them up the way his body expected him to.
She peeked out from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel.
"So," she said casually, "how was your new friend?"
Elias froze.
"…My what?"
She blinked. "Your new friend."
He turned slowly. "How do you know about that?"
She raised an eyebrow. "Because Mr. Tanaka told me."
"…Who?"
"The security uncle near the corner," she said, like this explained everything. "He said he saw you earlier, walking with a girl. Very polite, by the way. He said you waved."
Elias stared at her.
There's a security uncle.
Inside his head, Abraxas hummed.
"That would explain the perimeter awareness," it said quietly.
You knew about that?
"I suspected."
His mom tilted her head. "Is something wrong?"
"No," Elias said quickly. "Just… surprised."
She smiled. "You don't usually go out with other kids."
Ouch.
"…She kind of dragged me," he said.
"That still counts," she replied, amused. "What's her name?"
"Momo."
"Momo," she repeated. "That's cute."
"She's… energetic."
"I could tell," his mom said. "Mr. Tanaka said she was running ahead of you."
Elias sighed. "She runs everywhere."
His mom chuckled. "Well, I'm glad you made a friend so quickly."
Friend.
The word stuck with him longer than it should have.
"…Yeah," Elias said quietly.
His mom smiled like that was all she needed and turned back to the stove. "Go wash up. I'll bring something to your room in a bit."
"Okay."
Elias padded down the hall and into his room. Same small bed. Same desk. Same quiet hum of a normal house settling in for the evening.
He sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the wall for a moment.
Today was weird.
Inside his head, Abraxas stayed silent.
That, too, was weird.
A few minutes later, there was a soft knock.
His mom opened the door just enough to peek in. "I brought you something."
She set a small tray on his desk. Rice crackers. Cut fruit. A small bowl of soup. And a bag of tomato-flavored chips he didn't remember asking for.
"Eat before it gets cold," she said. "And don't stay up too late."
"I won't," Elias replied automatically.
She ruffled his hair once, then left, closing the door behind her.
The room went quiet again.
Elias turned back to the tray.
"…Nice."
That was when the mark on his hand warmed.
A thin line of light slipped open, barely noticeable, and Abraxas eased itself out like it was testing the air.
It hovered in front of the desk, ears twitching.
"Oh," Elias muttered. "There you are."
Abraxas didn't answer.
Instead, it drifted closer to the tray, mismatched eyes narrowing slightly as it examined the food.
"…Those," it said after a moment, pointing at the chips, "emit a strong scent."
"They're tomato chips."
Abraxas floated nearer. "They are red."
"Yes."
"And crunchy."
"Probably."
Abraxas reached out.
Very carefully.
It poked the bag.
The bag crinkled.
Abraxas recoiled half an inch.
"…Hostile," it decided.
Elias snorted before he could stop himself.
Abraxas turned slowly to face him. "Was that amusement?"
"…A little."
The god looked back at the chips, then tried again—this time grabbing the edge of the bag and tugging.
Nothing happened.
It frowned.
"…This packaging is reinforced."
"It's plastic."
Abraxas tugged harder.
The bag refused to cooperate.
Elias watched as the so-called god above all things wrestled silently with snack packaging, ears flattening in concentration.
"…Do you want help?" he asked.
Abraxas paused.
"…No."
It tugged again.
Still nothing.
Elias smiled. Just a little.
"You know," he said, "for someone called Abraxas, you're having a rough time."
Abraxas stopped and looked at him.
"…Do not shorten my name."
Elias tilted his head. "Too late."
He reached out, tore the bag open in one clean motion, and set it back down.
Abraxas stared at the open chips.
Then, very slowly, it reached in and pulled one out.
It sniffed it.
Then bit it.
There was a pause.
"…Hm."
Elias waited.
"…Acceptable," Abraxas said at last.
"That's high praise."
Abraxas floated down and sat on the edge of the desk, munching carefully.
Elias leaned back on his bed, watching.
"…You know," he said, "for my first day making friends, this could've gone worse."
Abraxas glanced at him. "You refer to the child?"
"…You too," Elias said.
Abraxas froze.
"…Me?"
"Yeah," Elias replied. "You're kind of my first friend here."
The god stared at him for a long second.
Then it looked back at the chips.
"…You may call me Abby," it said quietly.
Elias blinked.
Then smiled.
"Alright," he said. "Abby it is."
Abby took another chip.
And didn't argue.
Abby chewed in silence for a moment.
Crunch. Pause. Crunch.
"…This sensation," it said slowly, "is inefficient."
Elias raised an eyebrow. "You're still eating."
"That does not contradict my statement."
Abby looked down at the chip between its fingers, turning it slightly as if examining a strange artifact.
"It provides no sustenance to me," it continued. "No energy. No measurable benefit."
"Then why eat it?"
Abby hesitated.
"…It is pleasant."