He’d been using distractions to get away from everything.
Anything that helped him focus on something else.
[Quest Objective: 300 Push-ups, 300 Pull-ups, 30 KM Run][Reward: One Bottle of Healthy Whiskey][Penalty: No Cigarettes Until Completion]
"...The fuck do you mean, no cigs?" Franz muttered aloud.
[It’s part of a healthy lifestyle, you addicted gremlin.]
Franz groaned, dragging the blanket over his head. His chest still throbbed dully beneath the bandages. The systems bickered in the background—voices that faded as the weight of exhaustion finally settled in.
His eyes closed. His thoughts blurred.
Franz didn’t realize the systems were his biggest distraction keeping him from remembering.
They were getting more and more frank so he wouldn’t feel alone and feel that pain again—the pain he felt when his family died.
But the question remained—how long could he run from his grief?
And when the day came where he had to face it, would he be able to handle it?
She tiptoed down the hallway, the hem of her borrowed T-shirt brushing her knees. Everything was quiet, save for the occasional creak of old wood beneath her feet. She glanced over her shoulder once, half-hoping Iris would follow.
But no. Iris had buried herself under a blanket, pretending the morning didn’t exist.
So, it had to be her.
She reached the door.
Then slowly—slowly—she turned the knob.
The room was darker than the hallway, heavy with warmth and the faint smell of soap and something sharp underneath. She saw him—Franz—lying on his back, arm stretched over his face, hair a mess of damp black curls across the pillow.
He didn’t even look real.
She took a step inside.
Her toe caught the corner of the carpet.
She fell forward. Instinctively reached out to catch herself.
But before she hit the mattress—
Fast. Blinding. Sudden.
In a blink, she was under him.
His eyes, still half-lidded with sleep, were suddenly sharp. Awake. Wired.
One hand gripped hers. The other braced beside her head. His weight pressed down gently—just enough to trap her, not crush her.
His face hovered inches above hers.
His blue eyes stared into hers.
His voice was raspy. Groggy, but firm. Her name sounded too intimate in that voice.
’God, he’s so close. Should I... kiss him?’
She blinked up at him, heat crawling up her neck.
Franz moved before he registered it—combat instinct kicking in. He grabbed the hand, twisted, rolled, and slammed the intruder down beneath him.
One arm pinned. His knee beside their waist.
Her eyes were frozen in shock, cheeks going redder by the second.
[This is the second time. There’s no excuse now. Also—you do remember her dad is a police officer, right?]
Franz blinked. Then groaned.
"...I thought you were someone else."
Lena squeaked. "Y-You said to wake you up... didn’t you?"
Franz, still hovering awkwardly above her, stared down.
"...Yeah. I did say that."
Iris stood at the threshold. Eyes locked on the scene.
Her gaze traveled from Lena.
To him on top of Lena.
<"Wanna join? If not, I suggest you close the door.">Arcadia mocked, mimicking Franz’s exact tone from the night before.
[Do it. Do it. I dare you.]
Franz gave them a blank look, then turned to Iris and—
Both girls’ brains short-circuited.
Lena’s face exploded red. Iris stiffened like she’d been Tased. Her mouth opened, then shut. Her glasses fogged up instantly.
[You retarded fucker.]
Franz winced. Raised both hands like he was under arrest.
"Okay, okay—I was joking. I just let my intrusive thought win this one."
He stepped back and offered a hand to Lena.
"She was waking me up, I got startled. That’s it. No funny business. I am not harassing her."
Lena took his hand, flustered but breathing again.
He led them out of the room.
"C’mon. Let’s get breakfast or something. Ignore the bad humor. I swear I’m usually worse."
Franz ignored the remark, running a hand through his damp hair as he stepped into the kitchen.
Barefoot, quiet, still half-recovering from the chaos of last night—he opened a cabinet, scanned its contents, and muttered something about needing to buy real groceries.
Lena and Iris followed behind, still visibly flustered but slowly easing into something that resembled normalcy. They walked casually, whispering a few awkward jokes to each other, the kind that fill silences better left undisturbed.
"Do you even cook?" Lena asked, arms crossed as she leaned against the counter.
Franz, already cracking eggs into a pan, shrugged. "Better than starving. ."
She giggled softly. "It smells good already."
He flicked the stove on. "It’s just eggs, Lena. Your standards are too low."
Then the faintest smile curled on her lips. "Maybe I just like eggs now."
[She’s flirting. She’s definitely flirting.]
Franz’s continued stirring.
"Do you.. now. Maybe not after today"
Iris relaxed and sat on chair near the counter with sound of cooking and listening to Franz and Lena’s lively conversation.
Behind them, the couch shifted.
A rustle of fabric. A muttered groan.
Celeste stirred first. Her head rested far too close to Zane’s shoulder. When she blinked her eyes open and realized that her face was practically nestled against his hoodie—
Her hand smacked Zane on the chest.
"Huh—? Ow!" Zane yelped, blinking blearily as he jolted awake. "What was that for!?"
Celeste didn’t answer. Her face burned crimson as she scooted away, brushing imaginary dust off her lap.
The thud from Zane’s fall also woke Emphera, who blinked once, then yawned loudly and dramatically like a cat stretching in sunlight.
Then they all saw it.
Standing in the kitchen.
Franz had a pan in one hand, spatula in the other. Lena was leaning against the counter like she’d lived there for years. And Iris—who was normally cold and composed—looked relaxed. Even... light.
Zane blinked again, confused.
"Franz? What the hell are you doing here?"
The entire kitchen went quiet.
Franz looked up from the pan.
" Well... this is my house."
Zane’s mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again.
Feeling really embarrassed.
"No problem" Franz replied.
Lena and Iris tried—very hard—not to laugh.
Then, like fate herself timed it—
Three stomachs growled in perfect sync.
Zane. Celeste. Emphera.
Lena laughed outright. Iris chuckled behind her hand.
Franz flipped the eggs with a small sigh. "Come here, all of you. If you want something to eat, stop standing there and come here."
They filed in like scolded kids, rubbing their eyes and trying to pretend like they weren’t secretly starving.
Then a thought hit Celeste.
Her gaze turned serious.
"Wait... where’s my mom?"
The room quieted again.
Franz didn’t stop cooking. "She’s fine. The problem with Elliot is over."
Celeste’s brows knit. "What do you mean, ’Over’?"