The pen hit the desk with a dull thud and rolled across the surface, threatening to fall off. Kyle caught it just in time.
He had been stuck on the same problem for a solid hour and still couldn't find a solution. The frustration building inside him finally slipped out. The mouse was next in line, at risk of being sent flying.
Kyle inhaled through his mouth and exhaled sharply through his nose. He closed the notebook, trapping the pen inside, and pushed it aside.
"I can't do this anymore… I'm done," he muttered.
Resting his chin on his hand, he unlocked his phone and opened his messages.
There were only three chats: Megan at the top, Darren below, and a group chat with his gaming friends, a few unread messages sitting there.
His finger hovered over Megan's name first. But she'd been busy lately…
In the end, Kyle opened Darren's chat almost without thinking.
He checked the time — 9 p.m. Not that late. Quickly, he typed:
If you're not busy, can you help?
He didn't send it right away. Instead, his finger slid upward, scrolling back through the conversation.
It wasn't long — just a few days. Short messages. Straight to the point.
18:11 — Darren:
Hey. Got a problem here — maybe you'll know what's wrong?
It was the first message in the chat. Attached was a photo of a MacBook screen, the image distorted, streaked with colored lines.
19:00 — Kyle:
Hey. Did you drop it or something?
Or hit it?
19:03 — Darren:
That's the thing — no. It just started doing this out of nowhere(
19:05 — Kyle:
When's the last time you checked the GPU? Updated drivers? Any overheating?
19:06 — Darren:
No idea… I barely ever turn it off
19:08 — Kyle:
-_- that might be the reason
Take it to a service center, they'll tell you more. I can't really say without checking it
19:09 — Darren:
Yeah, you're probably right
Thanks
19:10 — Darren:
How's your homework going?
19:11 — Kyle:
all good
Just a 👍 in response.
20:03 — Kyle:
Solved the problem but it was rough. Not sure it's right
A photo of a notebook page attached.
20:15 — Darren:
I'll take a look when I'm done with work
Kyle kept scrolling.
The messages repeated the same pattern — short, practical, mostly question and answer.
Eventually, he reached the last one:
23:40 — Darren:
good night
It took him less than five minutes to reread everything.
Kyle looked back at the message he was about to send:
If you're not busy, can you help?
His eyes lingered on the most recent exchanges — Darren asking about a graphics card, Kyle just sending a link. Then almost immediately after, Kyle asking for help with homework.
His fingers hovered over the screen.
Why was Darren the first person that came to mind?
Lately, he hadn't even been asking Megan anything.
Yeah, Darren explained things well. Yeah, he actually helped him understand the material. His grades had even improved a little.
But wasn't he starting to rely on him too much?
His fingers moved again. Holding down delete, Kyle erased the message completely.
As if it had never been there.
He exited the chat, closed the app, and set his phone aside.
"Nope," he murmured into the quiet. "I'll figure it out myself."
----------------------------------
The soft rustle of pages blended with the steady clatter of the keyboard.
Megan turned another page, then paused, her finger resting at the edge. From behind the book, she glanced at Kyle — he was typing as usual, bouncing his leg and chewing the inside of his cheek.
"You and Darren seem to be getting along," she said suddenly.
Kyle froze for a moment. Slowly turned his head and met her attentive gaze.
"I noticed you've been talking more lately when he comes over," Megan added. "And he asks about you sometimes."
Kyle narrowed his eyes.
"Asks? About me?"
"Yeah."
"Mm. I see," he said shortly. Deliberately indifferent.
"So?" she pressed.
"So what?"
"What do you think of Darren?"
"He's fine," Kyle said simply. "Why?"
"Well…" she dragged the word out, "I was just thinking… your birthday's coming up."
Kyle frowned slightly.
"Is it?"
"Yes, actually," she huffed. "Your birthday."
He shrugged, like it didn't really matter.
"Oh. Right."
"And I was thinking—"
"No," he cut her off immediately. Sharp.
"Why?"
"No. End of discussion. We're not inviting him."
His voice came out harsher than usual. His gaze, fixed on Megan, turned cold.
She went quiet for a second.
"Okay. Then at least tell me why."
Kyle dragged a hand over his face, paused over his eyes, then lowered it, clasping his fingers together against his chest.
"Remember how your attempts to 'help me make friends' usually ended?" After a brief pause, he added, "What if it's the same again?"
Megan set her book aside and shifted closer.
"Look," she said more gently, "Darren's family is way above ours. You've heard of the McAllister fund?"
Kyle nodded. Then asked:
"He's… one of them?"
She shrugged.
"So I doubt he has any reason to get close to you just to get closer to me."
Quieter, she added: "It shouldn't be like last time."
Kyle looked away.
"I don't know…"
Megan picked her book back up, deciding not to push.
The room settled into familiar quiet — the soft rustle of pages, the low hum of the computer.
A few minutes passed.
"Maybe you're right," Kyle said quietly.
Megan looked up at him immediately.
"I'll think about it," he added.