After finishing our milkshakes, Bri and I stepped out of Happy Days Cafe, the warm sun bathing us in its glow. We strolled through the park, the sound of laughter and playful shouts from children echoing around us. The vibrant colors of blooming flowers surrounded us, and I felt a sense of contentment wash over me.

As we reached a small clearing, we paused, giving each other a knowing look. This was our moment—a bittersweet goodbye for now.

"Call me later, Y/n," Bri said, slinging her purple purse over her shoulder and turning to walk in the opposite direction.

"I will!" I called back, smiling as I watched her go. It was comforting to know that no matter where life took us, we'd always have each other.

With a spring in my step, I turned to head back home. The familiar path wound through the park, and I felt a sense of peace enveloping me. As I walked, I passed my dad's favorite little food supermart. He had mentioned needing eggs and milk for breakfast tomorrow, so I decided to pop in and grab a couple of things.

Inside, the aisles smelled faintly of fresh produce and baked goods. I quickly picked up a carton of eggs and a gallon of milk, placing them in a brown paper bag before heading back out. The sun was still shining brightly, and I felt a sense of accomplishment as I walked back home, the bag swinging gently at my side.

But then, I heard a sound behind me. A soft rustling, like footsteps on the pavement. I turned around, my heart racing, but there was nothing there. Confused, I was about to turn back when suddenly, Daren appeared right in front of me.

I jumped in shock, nearly dropping my bag of groceries. "Daren! You scared me!" I exclaimed, clutching the bag tightly.

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you," he said, a sheepish smile spreading across his face. His blue eyes sparkled with mischief, and I couldn't help but feel a flutter of nerves.

"Sure you didn't," I replied, my tone playful as I tried to walk past him.

"Hey! You didn't say hi to me in the diner," he said, stepping in front of me again, blocking my path.

"I was with Bri," I said, trying to keep my voice steady, but my heart was racing.

"Well, you could've invited me over. I'd love to hang out with you and your friends more often," he said, his tone light and teasing.

I raised an eyebrow. "You seemed pretty busy with your own friends."

"Oh, come on..." He stepped closer, cupping my cheek with his hand, and I laughed awkwardly, feeling the warmth of his touch. I instinctively took a step back, my heart pounding in my chest. "You can't tell me you didn't miss me a little bit."

"Daren, you know I'm not ready for anything serious," I said, trying to sound firm, but my voice wavered slightly as I looked up at him.

He leaned in, a playful glint in his eyes. "I get that, but it doesn't hurt to hang out, right? Just friends?"

I hesitated, feeling the weight of his gaze. There was something magnetic about him, something that made it hard to resist. But I reminded myself of the confusion we'd been through. "I guess so," I said, my voice softer now.

"Then let's hang out! Just us, no pressure," he suggested, his smile widening.

I bit my lip, torn between wanting to agree and the caution that held me back. "I'll think about it," I replied, trying to keep my tone light.

"Okay, I'll hold you to that," he said, stepping back slightly but still lingering close. "Just remember, I'm here."

As he turned to walk away, a mix of emotions swirled within me. I watched him go, feeling both exhilarated and confused. I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts before continuing my walk home.

With the sun shining down, I clutched the brown bag tightly, a smile creeping onto my face. Maybe things weren't as complicated as I thought. Maybe I could navigate this maze of friendship and feelings, one step at a time. But for now, I had my dad waiting for me, and that was where I needed to be.

______________________________

        - MEANWHILE WITH FIVE -

Five reach a door to enter the building. Five blocks inside the building and starts to walk up the stairs. Once he reach the third floor, he knocks on the door and a door is opened, but wasn't the one in front of him.

"What do you want?" A man asks.

"Hi." Five greets in a polite tone. "I'm selling encyclopedias for your youth group. I was curious if—" The man shuts the door in his face. Five sighs and quickly blinks inside the man's place.

The man immediately jumps and screams out of fear. He begins rummaging through a drawer of his and pulls out a screw. He nods toward the door. "How did you do that?"

"Don't really have time to explain." Five answers.

He points the screw more toward him. "You from the Pentagon? Huh?"

Five stand there and shakes his head. "Definitely not."

"CIA? FBI? KGB?" He continues on as Five gets annoyed.

Five points at the pot coffee. "Is that fresh?" He jumps over to the pot, making the man scream once more holding the screw more tight toward  Five.

Five passes him and walking into the different room section with Five. "Hmm." He turns to look at the guy, raising his cut a little bit. "This Columbia?"

The man blinked, clearly taken aback by the sudden appearance of a teenager in a school uniform. "It's... It's the Dauther blend," he stammered, raising his coffee cup as if that somehow explained everything.

Five furrowed his brow in confusion. "Dauther?" Five repeated.

Before he could finish, the sound of a door opening below them interrupted the tense exchange. Heels clicked against the floor, accompanied by the jingle of keys. A voice, light and feminine, called up from the lower level.

"Dad! I'm home! I stopped by the market for some eggs and flour..."

Five turned towards the source of the voice, his body tense and ready for anything. He watched as a girl, no older than him, appeared at the top of the stairs. She held a grocery bag in one hand, her expression shifting from casual to shock as she took in the scene before her—a stranger in a school uniform, her father clutching a screwdriver as if it were a weapon.

She froze, her eyes locking onto Five's. The room was thick with silence, the tension so palpable it felt like the air could shatter at any moment.

"What's going on here?" she finally demanded, her voice shaky but determined.

Five glanced between the girl and her father, assessing the situation. This was not what he expected when he blinked back into time. But he knew one thing for certain—he was going to need answers, and fast.

________________________________

- Y/N'S POV -

The wooden stairs creaked beneath my feet as I ascended, the familiar sound strangely comforting. The cool, smooth banister slid under my palm, a small reassurance in the otherwise silent house. But something felt... off. I couldn't place it. Maybe it was the unusual stillness, or maybe the way the air seemed heavy with tension, like a storm brewing just out of sight.

When I reached the top and stepped into the living room, I stopped dead in my tracks. A boy—no, a young man—stood in the middle of the room. He wore a school uniform, sharp and tidy, but it was unlike any uniform I'd ever seen around here. He had an air of confidence, like he belonged, but I'd never seen him before in my life.

His back was turned to me, but the moment he heard my footsteps, he turned around slowly. His gaze was piercing, cool, as if he was measuring every inch of me in a single glance.

I barely noticed my father, standing a few feet away from him, until I saw the way his hands trembled, sweaty fingers gripping a screwdriver like it was the only thing keeping him grounded. His face was pale, his eyes wild with fear.

"What's going on here?" I blurted out, my voice shaky. The confusion that welled up inside me was quickly overtaken by a deep, unsettling dread. My father never looked like this. He was always the one in control, the calm in the storm. But now, seeing him like this, shaking, terrified... I couldn't wrap my mind around it.

"Y/N?" My father's voice was strained, barely above a whisper, but there was an urgency there that made my heart skip a beat. "Dear, get over here behind me."

I didn't move at first. My feet felt glued to the floor as I looked back and forth between him and the strange boy, trying to make sense of what was happening. The boy's eyes flicked between us, sharp and calculating, taking in every detail of the room. There was something about him, something not right, something dangerous.

"Y/N, now. Get over here." My father's voice cut through the fog in my mind. His tone left no room for argument, and I quickly crossed the room, my feet moving on their own as I went to his side, clutching the bag of food I had brought in. He pushed me behind him, his grip on the screwdriver tightening, his knuckles white.

"Who's that boy, Dad?" I whispered, trying to make sense of the situation. My father didn't take his eyes off the boy, his breath coming in short, uneven bursts.

"I don't know," he whispered back, his voice trembling. "He just... appeared."

The boy's eyes continued to scan the room, pausing briefly on the newspaper clippings my father had pinned to the wall, the ones with bold headlines about strange occurrences, unexplained phenomena. Then his gaze shifted to the scattered electronics, the old TV, the disassembled radios. His expression didn't change, but there was something almost... curious in the way he looked at everything, as if he were studying it, trying to understand it.

The silence stretched on, the tension in the room growing thicker with each passing second. I could feel my father's anxiety rolling off him in waves, his fear palpable, almost suffocating.

And then the boy spoke, his voice calm, even. "Nice place you've got here," he said, as if this were the most normal situation in the world.

But nothing about this felt normal.

"Stay back," my father warned, his voice stronger now, though still laced with fear. "I don't know who you are, or what you want, but you're not welcome here."

The boy tilted his head slightly, as if considering his words. Then, slowly, he smiled—a cold, calculated smile that sent a shiver down my spine.

"Maybe I'm not," he said quietly, almost to himself. His gaze flicked to me for a brief moment taking a sip of whatever was his cup before looking then back to my father. "But I'm here now, aren't I?"

The words hung in the air like a threat, and I realized with a sinking feeling that this boy—whoever he was—wasn't going to leave easily.

The boy's presence filled the room, a dark cloud that seemed to suffocate the air around us. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, each beat louder than the last. The sight of my father, usually so steady and sure, now shaking and clutching a screwdriver like it was a lifeline, sent my anxiety spiraling.

I leaned in closer to him, my voice barely a whisper, "Why a screwdriver, Dad?" The words slipped out before I could stop them, my worry overriding any sense of caution.

"Not the time, Y/N," he snapped back, his voice trembling as he tried to maintain some semblance of control. His eyes remained fixed on the boy.

I swallowed hard, my own fear gnawing at me. "Where's the gun?" I asked, my voice hushed but insistent. My father had always kept a gun for protection, a last resort he'd said, but now, facing this strange boy, it seemed more necessary than ever.

"I didn't have time..." he whispered back, his voice trailing off. He still hadn't broken eye contact with the boy, his hands trembling so violently now that the screwdriver shook in his grasp.

I could feel my frustration rising, fear mixing with helplessness. We were whispering frantically, like scared children hiding from a monster, while the boy—whoever he was—seemed completely unfazed, calmly examining the room as if he hadn't just walked into someone else's house uninvited.

The boy's eyes finally settled on the wall where my father had tacked up various newspaper clippings, all of them marked with bold headlines about strange phenomena, conspiracies, and government secrets. His gaze lingered on one in particular, his expression unreadable.

Then, out of nowhere, he spoke, his voice cool and curious, "You ever heard of Area 51?"

The question hung in the air, and for a second, it was like the world stopped. I stared at the boy, completely taken aback, unsure how to respond. But before I could say anything, my father let out a scoff, his lips curling into a bitter smile. And then, to my utter confusion, he started laughing—a dry, humorless laugh that seemed to come from deep within, as if he'd just heard the world's darkest joke.

"See, I always knew we weren't the only ones. See, Y/n, I told you my head was screwed on tight, but... but it's all true, yeah?" He continued, "UFOs, crop circles..."

"Well, the truth is out there." The boy said.

No, no, no, no, no. The... truth, it's... right here in front of us. Tell me, why is it always an anal probe?" The father asked as stepped closer to him.

The boy's eyes narrowed, his calm demeanor shifting into something more dangerous. He took a step forward.

"Any closer, and I'll melt your brain," the boy said in a voice so cold and confident it sent an icy wave of fear crashing over me. I froze, my eyes widening in shock as I tried to process what he had just said.

My father must have taken the threat seriously because his face paled even further. He nodded quickly, his hands trembling as he lowered the screwdriver just a bit. "He needs a little space, yes. We'll be over here," he stammered, his voice shaky. Without taking his eyes off the boy, he reached out, grabbing my shoulders and guiding me backward a few steps, putting more distance between us and this strange, terrifying boy.

My mind was racing, trying to understand what was happening, but nothing made sense. Who was this boy? How did he even get here? And why was he acting like this?

The boy's eyes flicked back to the wall, where my father had tacked up the newspaper clippings and articles. His gaze then shifted to the roof, as if he could see right through it. "All those contraptions on the roof, you build those, right?" he asked, his tone less threatening now but still carrying that underlying tension.

My father hesitated for just a moment, but then he nodded, his voice shaky as he answered. "Oh, yeah, yeah, sure did. Yeah, I've been tracking anomalies in... in the atmosphere, just waiting."

"Waiting for what?" the boy asked, his voice sharp and demanding. My father opened his mouth to answer, but no words came out. He seemed frozen, still shaken by the sight of this strange boy in our living room, by the realization that whatever he had been preparing for was finally here.

I could feel the tension growing, thick and oppressive. My father was too terrified to speak, and the boy's impatience was evident in the way his eyes bore into him.

"For you," I said, my voice cutting through the quiet like a knife. The boy's gaze snapped to me, and I forced myself to continue. "For all of you."

The boy slowly turned his full attention to me, his expression unreadable, but there was a cold curiosity in his eyes that sent a shiver down my spine. "Elaborate for me," he said, his tone almost daring me to continue.

Before I could respond, my father stepped forward, finally finding his voice. He started to speak, the words coming out in a rush as he tried to explain, to tell his story. I could see how much he wanted to say it all, how much he needed to make the boy understand. So I decided to step back, letting him take the lead, and slowly walked over to the couch.

As I sat down, trying to absorb everything that was happening, Sushi, jumped onto my lap, curling up on my dress. The soft weight of her was a small comfort in the midst of the chaos. I absentmindedly stroked her fur as I listened to my father speak.

"It all started in 1960," my father began, his voice still shaky but gaining strength with each word. "The year the Silvertone Omega was released. I was in the middle of a sale when something very... strange happened. I didn't think much of it at the time, just a fluke, an odd occurrence. But then it happened again. And again."

The boy listened intently, his eyes never leaving my father's face. He seemed almost intrigued now, as if my father's story was answering questions he hadn't even asked yet.

"For the past three years, my daughter and I have witnessed six energy surges in that alleyway out back," my father continued, his voice steadying as he fell into the rhythm of his explanation. "Same thing every time. A bright blue light, then something appears."

The boy's eyes narrowed slightly, his interest clearly piqued. "Did you get a good look at them?" he asked, his voice calm but insistent, as if the answer was crucial.

"Yeah, the first one. The big and sensitive one." My father answered.

"Sensitive?" The boy repeated.

"Yeah," my father said, his voice trembling slightly as he continued. "There was one who stood out... cried a lot, kept coming back to the alley, sat around for hours, calling for a woman's name. Uh..." He trailed off, his brow furrowing as he tried to recall the name, his mind scrambling to piece together the details.

I could see him struggling, the memory just out of reach, so I stepped in, the answer already on the tip of my tongue. "Allison," I said, my voice soft but clear.

My father's eyes lit up with recognition, and he snapped his fingers, turning back to the boy. "Allison," he repeated, nodding as if the name itself confirmed something crucial. "That's right. He kept calling for Allison."

The boy's face hardened at the mention of the name. "Luther." The boy muttered.

"He looked lost, desperate even. We didn't know what to do... didn't know if I should approach him or stay back. But it was clear he was searching for someone, someone he couldn't find." I said, trying out to see if that information would help.

"So my family is alive. Shit. I think I stranded them here. Now listin to me..." The boy walk closer to my dad as my father climes over the I was sitting with Sushi. I moved off the couch quickly grabbing Sushi in my hands.

"Elliot. Elliot," The boy teleported midway toward to my father. I was stunned, my mind racing to comprehend what just happened. Where the hell did he go? How the hell did he just do that?" "My name... my name's Elliot." My dad said.

The boy appeared in front of him, "Whatever, all right? I got ten days to find them and save the world. Now, I need your help to do that."

"You need... my..." My father stuttered, his words faltering as he struggled to find the right ones. I stood there, watching the exchange, feeling the tension thick in the air.

Deciding to take control, I walked over, stepping in front of my dad, and looked the boy square in the eyes. "We'll help you, but you need to drop this whole mindset you're clinging to," I said firmly.

I gently set Sushi down on the floor and moved my dad aside. As I rummaged through the desk drawer, looking for something specific, Sushi, clearly unsettled by the boy's presence, hissed at him and backed away defensively. The boy  shot Sushi a disdainful glance before returning his gaze to me.

Finally, I found what I was looking for—a mugshot buried in the drawer. I held it out to him, my hand steady. "My father and I found this mugshot. We thought it looked like someone... Arrival Number Four."

Five eyed the mugshot in my hand warily, then reached out to take it, his expression unreadable. "Diego."

"So then, that's helpful?" Elliott asked nervously.

"You have no idea." The boy said and teleported away again leaving behind an eerie silence that seemed to press in on the room. My father and I stood there for a moment, frozen, as if the very air had been sucked out of the space. When we finally exhaled, it was as though we were releasing all the tension that had built up since the moment Five first appeared.

I turned to my father, my heart still racing, trying to make sense of what had just happened. "Who the hell was that boy?" I demanded, my voice laced with a mix of fear and anger.

"Who cares!" my father replied, his eyes gleaming with an almost manic enthusiasm. "All my work is finally coming together!" His voice was filled with such joy that, for a second, I wondered if we had just experienced the same thing.

I stared at him, my disbelief mounting. "A random boy with teleportation powers breaks into our house, threatens to melt your brain, and you're happy because your work is coming together?" I could hardly keep the sarcasm out of my voice. "Seriously?"

"Believe me now?" I added, my tone thick with skepticism. I couldn't believe he was so nonchalant about everything that had just transpired.

But my father seemed utterly unconcerned. His attention was already drifting back to whatever obsession had driven him to this point. I could see it in his eyes—the way they lit up with the fervor of discovery, the thrill of the chase. For him, this was just another piece of the puzzle, another step toward whatever goal he had set for himself.

I shook my head, frustration boiling over. "Unbelievable," I muttered under my breath. I bent down to pick up Sushi, who was still on edge. "Come on, Sushi," I whispered, more to myself than to her.

With one last look at my father, who was now clapping his hands together in a strange display of self-congratulation, I turned and walked out of the room. His excitement was palpable, as if the near-disaster that had just occurred was nothing more than a minor inconvenience, a footnote in his grand experiment.

I carried Sushi to my room, her small body warm and comforting in my arms. Once inside, I gently placed her on the bed and closed the door behind us, shutting out the madness that seemed to have taken hold of the house. I leaned back against the door, trying to steady my breath, my mind still racing. How had everything gotten so out of control?

From the other side of the door, I could hear my father settling onto the couch, the sound of his coffee cup clinking softly as he placed it on the table. His contented sigh echoed in the silence that now filled the house, as if nothing at all had happened. Meanwhile, I was left to wonder what kind of mess we had just stepped into—and how, or if, we would ever find our way out of it.

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WORDS WRITTEN: 4066