The evening before the trip, Alon stood at Derrick's doorway with his hands in his pockets and when Derrick opened the door he greeted him and say.
"We're going to the lake tomorrow. William organized it." A pause. "You should come with us."
Derrick leaned against the doorframe, his shoulders straight — steadier than they had any right to be.
"I can't." He glanced down briefly. "My body still isn't fully recovered. I don't want to slow everyone down."
Alon held his gaze a second longer than necessary.
"Alright." He turned and started back down the path. "Rest well."
"Have fun."
Neither of them said anything else.
•~~~•
At Midnight of the day before the trip,Derrick's eyes snapped open.
He sat up sharply, breath ragged, chest heaving as though he had just surfaced from deep water. His silver hair clung to his forehead, damp with sweat. For a moment he simply sat in the darkness, fingers pressing into the bedsheet beneath him.
He pressed a hand to his chest and waited for his heartbeat to slow.
When it finally did, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood. His whole body was steadier than it used to be. That much, at least, had changed.
He crossed the room and stopped in front of the calendar pinned to the wall.
In the pale light bleeding through the curtains, his red eyes moved across the dates until they landed on a single circle — drawn in thick red ink, pressed deep into the paper, as though whoever had drawn it had needed the weight of it to feel real.
He stared at it for a long moment.
Three days.
His jaw tightened.
"Only three days left," he whispered.
His voice was barely above a breath, but in the silence of the room it landed heavily.
He turned from the calendar and walked to the window. Outside, the neighborhood was still and dark. The streets were empty. The sky was a deep, starless grey.
His reflection stared back at him from the glass — pale face, red eyes, an expression that carried something far too heavy for someone his age.
I don't have enough time. I need to complete my task.
He stood there a while longer, watching the darkness outside. Then, quietly, he turned away and began to prepare for the day.
•~~~•
The morning air was crisp and cool when the cars pulled out of the neighborhood, the sun just beginning to climb above the rooftops.
William had organized everything the night before — snacks, bags, a handwritten checklist — all of it packed quietly into the car without fuss. By the time Lucas came downstairs still pulling his jacket on, both bags were already loaded, the snacks sorted, and William was standing by the car with a cup of coffee, checking his watch.
Aiden came sprinting out the front door a few seconds later, one shoe untied, shouting something about his hat. William caught him by the collar mid-stride, crouched down, and tied the shoe himself. Then he pointed at the car.
Aiden climbed in without another word.
•~~~•
About an hour into the drive, Aiden pressed his nose flat against the window.
"Are we there yet?"
"Nope. One hour left." William said it with a tired smile.
Lucas reached over and gently pushed his face away from the glass.
Aiden sat still for a while.
Then his nose found the window again.
In the backseat, Chloe had her earphones in and her bag pulled against her chest like a shield. She had been awake before her alarm went off — had been ready a full thirty minutes before anyone came to get her — but she'd waited in her room until she heard footsteps in the hall before coming out.
She watched the back of Alon's head from the rear seat.
He was staring at the road ahead. His fingers rested in his lap, knuckles pale where they pressed lightly against each other.
She looked away.
Outside, the city moved past the window in long grey streaks.
•~~~•
They reached their destination about two hours later — a place William had read about and decided would be good for everyone. Wide open fields, a calm blue lake, old trees casting long, generous shade.
The car stopped completely. Aiden had his door open in under a second.
"Finally," he breathed dramatically, stretching both arms above his head as though he had just survived something terrible.
William handed him a bag. "Take this. And stay here until we've set up." He glanced over his shoulder. "Lucas — come help me."
Lucas caught Aiden's eye, smirked, and said "Yes, William. Coming" — then followed without another word.
William laid everything out near the water's edge — food, blankets, bags arranged without ceremony. Lucas dropped down beside him and began passing containers across, and when Aiden drifted too close to the rice ball box with suspicious intent, a single look from Lucas — almost identical to one of William's — was enough to stop him.
Chloe joined them quietly, helping arrange things on the blanket. At some point, when no one was looking, she slipped a rice ball to Aiden. When she straightened up, her eyes found Lucas briefly before she looked away, a faint warmth rising in her cheeks.
•~~~•
Alon drifted toward the water.
The lake was perfectly still, the pale morning sky sitting on its surface like a mirror. He stood at the edge and looked out across it, hands loose at his sides.
Lucas stopped beside him.
The grass rustled softly. A bird called somewhere in the trees behind them.
"You look tired," Lucas said. "More than usual. Did something happen?"
"I'm fine. It's nothing serious."
Lucas didn't argue. He stood quietly, his sleeve pulled down over his fingers, his eyes on the water.
Then Alon spoke, his voice carrying the shape of something he hadn't quite sorted out yet.
"I didn't have that strange dream again last night. I haven't had it since the day Uncle Joseph died."
Lucas glanced at him. "That's a good thing, isn't it? Why do you look worried?"
Alon's gaze stayed fixed on the water. "Because I don't understand why it stopped. It stopped the exact day he died. That doesn't feel like a coincidence."
"Maybe it is one," Lucas said, though his tone was careful rather than dismissive. "You've been carrying this for a while. Maybe try to let it go — just for today. We're here. Enjoy it."
Alon looked at him for a moment, then gave a small, reluctant nod.
A beat of quiet passed between them. Then William's voice rolled across the field.
"Everyone — breakfast is ready. Come and eat."
Alon was on his feet before the sentence finished, already crossing the grass toward the table. Lucas watched him go, something slow and unresolved settling in his chest.
He was about to follow when the feeling crept in — quiet and instinctive, like a cold current beneath still water.
*Why does it feel like someone is watching us?*
"Hey!" Alon's voice carried back across the field. "Stop standing there and come eat. Aiden already got into the rice balls."
"I only took two!"
"That's stealing."
"It's not stealing if I helped pack them!"
"That is not how that works—"
Lucas let out a breath that almost became a laugh. He turned away from the water and walked back toward the noise, and for a little while the weight in his chest sat quietly and left him alone.
•~~~•
Aiden found a duck after lunch.
More specifically, a duck found *him* — after he had spent twenty minutes slowly shuffling toward it with a rice ball crumb in his outstretched hand, utterly convinced he was being subtle. The duck tolerated this for longer than expected.
Then it did not.
Aiden ran. The duck was faster.
The chase carried him to the treeline, and it was there — breathless, laughing, still glancing back over his shoulder — that he nearly collided with two strangers stepping out from between the trees.
The first was a young man in his twenties with a warm, easy look about him. The second was an older man, perhaps in his sixties, with steady eyes and a calm that came from long practice.
The older man glanced around at the spread near the shore and smiled. "We didn't mean to intrude — but would it be alright if we stayed a short while?"
William hesitated briefly, then nodded. "Of course. You're welcome to."
The older man smiled with quiet gratitude. "Forgive us — we haven't introduced ourselves. My name is Matthew. This is my son, Andrew. We're from the nearest village."
"I'm William. These are my brothers, and their friends."
"Ah." Matthew's eyes moved warmly over the group. "A family outing. How nice."
•~~~•
Within a few hours, it was as though Matthew and Andrew had always been part of the group . At Afternoon, Andrew fell easily into conversation with Alon, Lucas, and Aiden, joining their games near the water's edge. Matthew settled beside William at the cooking area, and the two of them worked together with the quiet, comfortable rhythm of people who had known each other far longer than they had.
As the sun began to lower, they set out dinner near the water and invited the two to stay.
Matthew looked around the table with a warm expression. "So — Lucas and Aiden — they're your younger brothers?" he asked William.
"Yes, these are my brothers. Chloe and Alon are Lucas's friends."
"What about your parents?"
The warmth in William's expression shifted. It didn't disappear, but it changed into something quieter, more carefully held.
"They both passed away in a car accident," he said. "When Aiden was six months old."
Matthew's face fell. "I'm sorry," he said gently. "I didn't mean to bring pain."
"No, it's alright." William shook his head. "Truly."
A brief silence settled over the group. Then Andrew looked across the table toward Alon and Chloe.
"And what about you two?"
The question landed softly, but the table stilled. Everyone turned — almost without meaning to — toward Alon.
He held the weight of it for a moment. Then he said, with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, "I live with my adopted parents. And she is my adopted sister."
The silence that followed was a different kind. Heavier. Nobody moved to fill it.
Matthew set his chopsticks down and gave his son a firm look. "Andrew. That's enough." He turned to the group, his voice gentle with apology. "Forgive him. Let's eat."
The awkwardness didn't vanish entirely, but it softened — slowly, the way a held breath eventually releases.
When the meal was finished, Andrew and Matthew rose to leave, brushing off their clothes and looking out at the darkening sky.
"We should head back," Matthew said. "Thank you — truly, for the company and the meal. I hope we meet again."
"We hope so too," William replied. "Take care getting home."
They exchanged their goodbyes, and then the two figures disappeared back into the trees.
William looked at the fading light. "We should go as well. It'll be dark soon."
•~~~•
Deeper in the forest, Matthew and Andrew walked without speaking for a while. When the sounds from the lakeside had gone quiet behind them.
"We're certain now," Andrew said. "He's the one the leader is looking for."
Matthew said nothing for a moment. His eyes stayed fixed on the dark path ahead.
Matthew didn't slow his pace. "Then we should head back and report."
•~~~•
Across the city, a back door opened.
A figure stepped out onto a quiet, empty street — silver hair, red eyes, and a stride that had nothing fragile about it.
The street swallowed him whole.
"Two days left," he said quietly.
He turned the corner and kept walking.
•~~~•
The drive home was quiet.
Aiden fell asleep before they reached the main road, his cheek coming to rest against Lucas's shoulder. Lucas didn't shift him. He looked out the window at the city reassembling itself in the fading light — buildings, street lamps blinking on one by one, familiar roads sliding past like old photographs.
William's hands rested on the wheel. Steady. Unhurried.
Lucas watched a lamp post pass. Then another.
He looked at the back of William's head — the set of his shoulders, the calm way he occupied a space without demanding anything from it.
Then he turned back to the window.
The city kept coming.
He wasn't sure exactly what made him look. Something peripheral, half-registered — a figure moving along the roadside, a dark hood pulled forward over the face. Ordinary enough to ignore.
Then the hood slipped.
Lucas's breath stopped.
The face was only visible for a second before the car moved past. But it was long enough.
*Derrick.*
He turned sharply in his seat, craning back, but the figure was already gone — absorbed back into the stream of people and lamplight and evening shadow.
He faced forward again, his thoughts arriving faster than he could sort them.
*Was that actually him? It couldn't be. Derrick is recovering — he's at home. But that face— what would he be doing out here, and dressed like that?*
Lucas stared at the road ahead without seeing it.
*What is he doing?*