Lines of numbers and letters moved quickly, almost familiarly, across the screen.
Kyle sat with his chin resting on folded hands, watching them with tense focus. He barely blinked, as if looking away for even a second would make everything fall apart.
How many attempts had it been already — third, fifth?
One line froze. It disappeared for a moment, then reappeared, flickering as if it were the one blinking.
"Please…" Kyle whispered.
At last, the line stilled completely, and the stream of symbols came to a halt.
Kyle let out a long groan, covering his face with his hands and dragging them down sharply — like he was trying to shake himself back into focus.
"Fuck…" he exhaled quietly through his fingers.
The vibration of his phone pulled him out of the spiral of frustration.
Kyle lowered his hands and frowned, going still for a moment. A number with no name glowed on the screen.
Who would be calling him on a Sunday?
Spam? Scammers? He'd set up filters for that.
The call ended. Apparently, his hesitation had lasted long enough.
Kyle exhaled and dropped his hands, about to return to his task, when the phone vibrated again. The same number. So it wasn't random.
A couple of seconds passed. He didn't say hello—just waited for the voice on the other end to speak first.
"Hey."
That voice. Low. Even.
"Uh… hi. How did you—?"
"Megan," Darren said shortly.
"Mhm."
A brief, slightly tense pause followed, and Kyle added quickly, "What do you want?"
It came out dry, a little too rough.
"Is Megan home?" Darren asked. "I need to go over something urgent, and she's not answering."
"She was. About half an hour ago."
"Could you check?" His tone softened, a little too obviously. "It's important."
Kyle tipped his head back sharply and rolled his eyes, then straightened again.
"Fine. Give me a second."
He got up lazily, glancing out the window on his way — Megan's car was still parked outside.
"Her car's here," he said. "I'll go check."
"Oh, thanks."
Kyle didn't respond.
He walked down the hallway, and the sound of his steps carried faintly through the speaker to the other side. The silence stretched.
Then a short laugh.
"Your rooms are like… on opposite ends of the mansion," Darren said. "What's taking so long?"
"They are. Different wings," Kyle replied flatly.
For a moment, Darren didn't say anything.
"I see," he said quietly.
The amusement had dropped out of his voice.
Kyle gave a small shrug, though no one could see it, and said nothing more.
He stopped at Megan's door and knocked. Once. Twice. No response the third time either. He raised an eyebrow slightly, then, after a moment, pushed the door open and stepped inside — between them, that wasn't unusual.
With Megan, that was never a question of permission. They weren't blood, but the line between them had never needed it.
Megan wasn't there. Clothes were tossed across the bed, her laptop still open — signs she'd been there not long ago.
"Well?" Darren's voice came through again, a little more impatient now.
Kyle let out a sharp breath through his nose but didn't answer. He took another step, listening. A faint sound of water came from the side door.
Without hesitating, he walked over and knocked. The water stopped immediately.
"Meg?"
"What?"
"You coming out soon? Darren's asking."
"Ten minutes!"
The water started again, louder this time.
"She's in the shower," Kyle said calmly.
"Oh. Right. Will she be long?"
"You heard her."
"Yeah. Ten minutes, then." A short pause. "Thanks."
"No problem," Kyle replied, then added, colder, "Hopefully there won't be any more situations where you need to call me."
"We'll see."
Kyle rolled his eyes.
"Alright, then—"
He was already heading back down the hallway, about to hang up without waiting for a reply.
"Did I interrupt you?"
Darren's voice softened, just slightly.
Kyle slowed. The question took a moment to settle — like he had to hear it twice before it meant anything.
"I was… coding."
"Mhm. Megan said you're into that."
"Yeah." Simply. Just a fact.
"And how is it…" Darren hesitated for a fraction of a second, the question forming, "are you good at it?"
Kyle flinched and stopped abruptly. His fingers tightened around the phone. His breathing faltered.
Why did people always care whether he was good at something?
He drew a breath and kept walking.
"Pretty good," he said, steel threading through his voice.
"Then can I come to you if I run into technical issues?" Darren asked lightly.
"Sure. Not for free."
There was no immediate reply. For a split second, silence held — and then Darren laughed. Real. Unrestrained. It spilled through the speaker.
Kyle flinched. The tension in his fingers eased. The crease between his brows smoothed out.
The corners of his mouth lifted, almost on instinct —
and he caught himself.
By the time the laughter faded, he was already standing in front of his room. He pulled the phone slightly away from his ear and looked at the screen, at the now familiar number.
He paused. Looked at the door. Back at the screen. Then again.
He turned the handle.
"If that's all… I should go."
"Yeah. Save my number."
"Why?"
"Just in case." The trace of laughter still lingered in his voice.
Kyle exhaled.
"Bye."
He ended the call immediately.
Back at his desk, the screen with the failed code had already gone dark. Kyle glanced at it, then opened the call log. His gaze tightened, something catching and holding.
His fingers moved across the screen: Add contact → Name: Darren → Save.
He stared at the short list for another second. There had been nine. Now there were ten.
Then he locked the phone.