~ Present Time ~
The moment West stepped out of the ruin, the world rushed back into him all at once.
The stale, metallic air of the underground vanished, replaced by the cold evening breeze and the noise of voices—many voices—layered with disbelief.
Floodlights from gang vehicles bathed the ruined entrance in harsh white light, casting long shadows across the flattened wasteland that had once been a neighborhood.
Before West could even fully register where he was—
Aria slammed into him.
Her arms wrapped tightly around his torso and her fingers dug into the back of his shirt as if letting go would cause him to vanish again. Her head pressed against his chest and her body shook as she held him with everything she had.
"You’re alive," her voice broke as she spoke. "You’re actually alive."
West froze for half a second, then slowly brought his arms up around her shoulders. The contact felt grounding... it felt real. After everything he’d seen, everything he’d endured, the warmth of another human being hit him harder than any monster ever could.
"Yeah," he said quietly. "I’m here."
Aria pulled back just enough to cup his face with both hands as her eyes scanned him frantically. She turned his head left, then right, brushing over dried blood near his temple with her thumb and bruises on his jaw.
"Are you hurt? Does anything hurt? Are you dizzy? Can you see properly?" The questions poured out faster than he could answer.
"I—"
Before he could finish, Ross stepped closer, clearing his throat.
"I mean," Ross said awkwardly, forcing a half-smile, "I’m okay too, you know."
Aria didn’t even look at him.
Her attention never left West.
Ross smile slowly stiffened as he stood there for a second. A strange discomfort crept into his chest, but he brushed it aside quickly. Of course, he told himself. That’s her brother. It made sense. He was being ridiculous.
He took a step back, giving them space.
Then another presence moved in.
Auntie Maribel swept forward and wrapped West into a crushing hug, pulling his head straight into her chest with surprising strength. His face vanished into warmth and softness before he even had time to react.
"Oh, thank goodness," she voiced in relief. "I knew it. I knew that stubborn head of yours wouldn’t let you die down there."
West’s muffled voice came out strained as he choked in between her two soft mountains.
"Can’t... breathe..."
She froze.
"Oh!" Aunt Maribel released him instantly before her hands flew to her mouth as laughter bubbled up through her tears. "Sorry, sorry—ah, look at you, still joking."
The tension cracked.
A few people laughed softly at first and then more freely.
West wiped his face and exhaled, glancing around. Some of the survivors from the neighborhood approached him one by one, offering shaky smiles, pats on the shoulder, quiet words of thanks. There were fewer of them now. Far fewer.
He noticed who wasn’t there.
The woman whose fiancé had been injured wasn’t present. Neither were many others.
Some were likely rushed to hospitals, others taken away by emergency teams, and some... simply gone.
Harlan’s wife stood a few steps away, holding her children close.
Her knees gave out, and she sank to the ground, covering her face as sobs tore out of her chest. The sound was raw, ugly, and full of grief that had nowhere to go.
"Harlan didn’t make it," she cried. "He—he didn’t... those things... they..."
She looked up at the others with red and swollen eyes as her voice trembled.
"I’m sorry," she said, over and over. "I’m so sorry for how he acted. I know he made things difficult. I know he didn’t listen."
The group fell quiet.
They still didn’t know the truth—that Harlan had thrown the stone. They assumed this was guilt for his stubbornness, for leading others away.
Some people looked away.
A few muttered bitterly.
"Serves him right," someone whispered.
Auntie Maribel snapped around instantly.
"That’s enough," she said sharply. "A man is dead. Two children lost their father. A woman lost her husband. Watch your mouth."
The whisper died.
Harlan’s wife bowed her head, clutching her children tighter as they cried silently into her sides.
West felt a heaviness settle in his chest.
Survival came at a cost.
Eventually, emergency personnel began ushering people away toward medical tents, temporary shelters, anywhere that could offer warmth and safety.
West stood there, suddenly unsure.
The sun was already sinking low... evening crept in fast.
And then it hit him.
The neighborhood was gone.
His apartment—gone.
Everything he owned—gone.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. The signal bars were back. Network restored.
He typed quickly, messaging his father, explaining what happened, attaching a news link, sending his location.
Five minutes passed.
Ten.
Twenty.
No response.
West sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.
He probably hasn’t seen it yet, West reasoned. His father was always buried in work. He’d see the news late, panic, then rush over tomorrow.
That didn’t solve tonight.
He considered messaging his mother but dismissed it just as quickly. Even if she cared enough to respond, she was in another city. She wouldn’t make it here in time.
He let out a quiet breath.
Auntie Maribel noticed.
She stepped closer, lowering her voice. "You can stay with me, dear. I managed to secure a small apartment earlier—temporary, but—"
Before she could finish—
"West can stay with us."
Aria’s voice cut in confidently.
Everyone turned.
Ross blinked. "Huh?"
Aria smiled brightly, as if the decision had already been made. "He’ll stay at our place tonight."
Ross stared at her. "Our... place?"
She turned to him, tilting her head. "It’s fine, right, baby?"
Ross scratched the back of his head, glancing at West, then back at Aria.
"I mean... yeah," he said slowly. "A night shouldn’t be an issue."
Aria beamed. "Thanks!"
She leaned up and kissed Ross on the cheek.
West watched the exchange but he said nothing. He didn’t want to make things seem suspicious at all so he didn’t object. Since Aria was his sister, he had to act like a little brother.
With that settled, Ross excused himself, saying he needed to head back toward the ruins to check on gang matters. He promised Aria he’d be back later.
West and Aria stepped away together, moving past the empty stretch of land where homes once stood. A cab pulled up, cutting through the dimming light with its headlights.
Before getting in, Aria looked at West seriously.
"We’re stopping at the hospital first," she said. "No arguing."
West opened his mouth—
"No," she added firmly.
He closed it.
"...Okay."
As the cab pulled away, West leaned back against the seat as exhaustion finally caught up to him. His body ached. Cuts stung. Bruises throbbed. The fight with the guardian had taken more out of him than he wanted to admit.
Aria sat beside him, brushing her shoulder against his.
She glanced at him, then gently reached out, lacing her fingers with his.
For the first time since he stepped out of the ruin, West allowed himself to relax.
And for the first time in a while, he wouldn’t be spending the night alone.