the past

1 - 2

Ezer Wang's gaze followed the fluttering of a sparrow as it landed on the rim of the fountain, mirroring the quiet flurry of thoughts that had settled in his mind. He turned to Jay Wynne, who sat beside him on the weathered park bench, the half-white cascade of hair stark against the summer greenery.

"Jay," Ezer began, his voice tinged with the usual careful consideration he applied to his meticulously planned study schedules. "I've been thinking about what you said the other day... about the HDCRD. How did you find out you had these powers?"

The air felt thick with anticipation, as if the very question unlocked a part of Jay that few got to see. The aloof exterior melted for a moment, and the sunlight seemed to cast an empathetic glow around them. Jay's eyes, usually distant, fixed onto Ezer with an intensity that spoke volumes of trust.

"It was an accident, actually," Jay confessed, his voice steady but lower, as if recalling the memory required a certain reverence. "I was cornered, no way out. Panic set in, and that's when it happened—I just... vanished from one place and reappeared in another."

"Teleported?" Ezer's eyebrows rose, the academic in him intrigued by the concept made reality. This was no theoretical equation to be mastered or language pattern to be analyzed but raw, inexplicable power.

"Exactly." Jay's lips curved into a wry smile, a rarity that Ezer felt privileged to witness. "A dangerous situation turned into my awakening. I never knew I was capable of doing such a thing."

Ezer processed this new piece of the enigma that was Jay Wynne, the HDCRD operative with abilities far beyond the average high schooler's scope—abilities that even defied Ezer's parents' stringent approach to scientific research. Here, beside him, was a friend who grappled with forces that would have sent ripples of disbelief through the halls of Riverdale High School.

"Must have been frightening," Ezer murmured, empathy threading through his words as he thought of his own challenges: the weight of expectations and the perpetual quest for parental approval, so different yet somehow resonating with Jay's burden.

"For sure," Jay admitted, a shadow passing over his features. "But also enlightening. It made me realize there's more to me than meets the eye, and maybe I was meant to protect others from things they can't understand or fight against on their own."

The theme of unexpected connections wove itself through their conversation, as refreshing as the summer breeze that played with the leaves around them. In a world where superpowers intertwined with the everyday struggles.

"Tell me about it," Ezer encouraged gently, leaning forward with earnest interest. His own life had been a predictable pattern of academic rigor, but Jay's story was like a page from a sci-fi novel that refused to adhere to the rules.

Jay's eyes scanned the horizon as if reliving the moment. "It was just an instinct," he began, his voice steady but distant. "I was cornered, no way out. Panic set in, and then—just like that—" He snapped his fingers, and Ezer flinched slightly, not from the sound, but from the profound implications of that simple gesture. "I was standing in my room, safe but... utterly confused."

"Like teleportation?" Ezer asked, his scientific curiosity piqued despite himself. The concept was fantastical, yet here was living proof that the impossible could be hidden within the folds of their reality.

"Exactly like teleportation," Jay confirmed with a nod. "I didn't understand it at first, but soon after, the HDCRD found me. They explained what I could do, and suddenly, everything changed."

Ezer watched Jay's expression harden with the memory, a subtle shift from vulnerability to the stoic mask he often presented at school. It was clear that this revelation had catapulted Jay into a world Ezer could only try to comprehend through the lens of friendship and quiet support.

"Changed for better or worse?" Ezer ventured, aware of the magnitude of such a transformation during one's formative years.

Jay hesitated, then offered a small shrug. "Both, I guess." He turned to meet Ezer's gaze, a silent acknowledgment of the shared trust between them. "I never asked for this, but maybe I was chosen for a reason. And now, I have a duty to fulfill."

The weight of responsibility in Jay's words resonated with Ezer, echoing the pressures he faced at home. Yet, here in this tranquil park, the boundaries of their worlds blurred, and Ezer realized that beneath their unique burdens, they were united by a common thread of purpose and the unexpected summer friendship that had blossomed between them.

3 - 4

Ezer leaned forward, elbows on his knees, his gaze fixed on Jay as if trying to decipher the enigma before him. "So, after that first... teleportation, what happened next?" His voice was barely above a murmur, a thread in the symphony of rustling leaves and distant laughter.

Jay's eyes clouded over with the recollection, his hands clasped together between his knees. "Confusion, mostly," he admitted, his voice steady but laced with an undercurrent of old fears. "I spent nights awake, questioning reality, wondering if I'd lost my mind."

"And the fear?" Ezer probed gently, his curiosity tinged with concern.

"Like a shadow," Jay replied, "always there, stretching longer as the sun dipped lower." He paused, inhaling deeply. "But then, when I faced my first high-dimensional creature, something clicked."

"Clicked?" Ezer echoed, tilting his head, inviting more of the story to unfurl.

"Imagine facing something that defies all logic—its form, shifting, impossible to pin down," Jay said, his hands unfolding as if trying to shape the air into an understanding. "There it was, tendrils of darkness leaking into our world, and me... just a kid who could jump through space."

Ezer could see the scene painted in Jay's words, his friend, the reluctant hero, standing against a backdrop of chaos.

"Tell me about the battle, Jay. How did you stop it?"

The park around them seemed to hush, waiting.

Jay's white hair glinted in the summer sun as he turned to face Ezer, a flicker of pride finally breaking through his aloof exterior. "It was instinct. The creature lunged, and I teleported behind it, hitting where I sensed it was weakest," he recounted, his tone edged with the exhilaration of that moment. "Each move was a dance with death, a gamble against odds I couldn't calculate."

"Sounds terrifying," Ezer whispered, utterly engrossed.

"Terrifying, yes, but also..." Jay searched for the word, "...liberating. There's a rush in facing something so much bigger than yourself, knowing you're the only one who can stop it." His eyes gleamed with a fervor that Ezer had never seen before. "When it finally collapsed, dissolving into nothingness, I knew I had changed."

"Changed how?" Ezer asked, recognizing the significance in Jay's self-discovery.

"Responsibility," Jay stated simply. "A duty to protect, to be more than just a high school student meeting expectations." His gaze met Ezer's, a silent plea for understanding.

Ezer nodded, the weight of his own parents' hopes always present, now juxtaposed with the gravity of Jay's calling. Here, amidst the gentle hum of summer, they were two souls converging at the crossroads of adolescence and destiny.

"Sounds like you didn't just fight a creature; you found your purpose," Ezer reflected, his admiration for Jay's courage interlacing with the warmth of their growing friendship.

"Maybe," Jay conceded, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. "And maybe I found a friend who gets it more than he knows."

In that moment, beneath the broad expanse of sky, the distance between them felt insignificant. They sat side by side, bound by unspoken camaraderie and the recognition of each other's concealed strengths—a testament to an unexpected connection forged in the fires of summer.

5 - 6

Ezer shifted on the park bench, brushing a lock of hair from his eyes. He watched Jay's profile, the way the setting sun threw half his face into shadow, accentuating the stark white of his hair—a visual echo of his dual existence. "You're braver than anyone I've known," Ezer said quietly, breaking their contemplative silence.

Jay turned to him, the fading light reflecting in his steady gaze. "Bravery wasn't a choice; it was a necessity." His voice carried a resonance that spoke of battles unseen and unheard by the ordinary world. "The HDCRD... they helped me channel what I can do into something meaningful."

"Training and support," Ezer mused, considering the organizational structure that harnessed such extraordinary abilities for the common good. "They must have seen potential in you—the potential to do great things."

"Potential or not," Jay replied with an almost imperceptible shrug, "it's about responsibility. When you have the power to make a difference, there's an obligation that comes with it. You know about obligations, don't you?" His question seemed to reach beyond the casual conversation, probing into Ezer's own life of expectations and academic rigor.

"More than I'd like," Ezer admitted, his thoughts drifting briefly to Aunt May's gentle nudging and his parents' unspoken aspirations. But here, next to Jay, those pressures paled in comparison. "I never had to fight creatures from another dimension, though."

"Everyone has their own battles, Ezer. Yours are just... less otherworldly."

A soft chuckle escaped Ezer. It was strange how comfortable he felt, even amidst tales of interdimensional conflict. He looked at Jay, really looked at him, seeing past the aloof demeanor to the young man who stood sentinel over humanity. "Thank you," he said sincerely, "for trusting me with your story. For letting me see the person behind the powers."

"Trust isn't given lightly," Jay responded, his voice low but firm. "But you... you understand sacrifice. The pressure to meet every expectation. That makes you someone I can trust."

Ezer felt the significance of Jay's words settle between them, an invisible thread weaving together their disparate lives. They sat in a comfortable quietude, two high school students grappling with the complexities of duty and destiny, their friendship deepening with the shared acknowledgment of each other's hidden struggles.

As the park's ambient noises melded with the rustling leaves, Ezer reached out, hesitating only a moment before placing his hand on Jay's shoulder—an anchor in the fluid uncertainty of teenage life. Jay didn't flinch; instead, he tilted his head slightly, acknowledging the gesture.

"Whatever lies ahead," Ezer said, feeling the solidity of Jay's frame beneath his hand, "I'm with you. Everyone needs someone to lean on, even heroes."

"Heroes," Jay echoed, a wry twist to his lips as he gazed into the distance where the sky met the cityscape. "Just doing what needs to be done."

Ezer nodded, his own smile a reflection of Jay's. In the quiet park, surrounded by the familiarity of their world yet touched by the unknown, they understood each other in ways they never expected. As dusk settled, heralding the end of another summer day, their connection solidified—a bond formed not just of friendship, but of shared purpose.