Different Path

White smoke curled upward from the warm bowls of ramen sold by the street vendor. Jacques , Harvey, and Charles sat together on the sidewalk, the comforting heat of the broth battling the bite of the cold night air. The distant roar of engines signaled another batch of racers tearing away from the starting line, their sounds fading into the darkness.

Jacques slurped his ramen, his eyes darting between Harvey and Charles. "So, why all this?" he asked, his voice muffled between bites. "How did you two get in trouble with those bikers?"

Harvey and Charles exchanged a look, and then grinned—a shared, mischievous smirk that made Jacques's stomach twist. To anyone else, it might've seemed harmless. To Jacques , after what Razz had revealed earlier, it felt like a sign of something deeper—a connection.

A sharp pang struck his chest, followed by an unwelcome whisper at the back of his mind: Charles cheated on you. With Harvey.

He clenched his chopsticks a little too tightly. Harvey? Seriously? Jacques had known about Harvey's crush on Charles even before Jacques himself had fallen for him. He'd always dismissed it as harmless. Harvey was shy and awkward—traits Jacques was sure Charles didn't go for. Charles liked boldness, passion, confidence. But now… everything felt different.

The ramen in his mouth turned sour.

How dare you, Charles. I gave up the sky for you, lost myself just to keep us together. And when you said our dream of flying among the stars was childish, I believed you! Now, when I'm drowning trying to hold us up… you find someone else? Harvey, of all people?

Harvey's voice snapped him out of his spiraling thoughts. "You've been wound tighter than a coiled spring, man. You needed this." He leaned back against the wall, his smirk widening. "I had to call in some reinforcements."

Jacques arched a brow, his tone sharper than he intended. "Reinforcements?"

Charles finally spoke up enthusiastically, "Yeah, Harvey's dad helped set this up. It wasn't exactly easy to pull off."

Jacques froze for a moment, staring at Charles. The realization hit him like a punch to the gut. So they've been planning this together. What's next? Sharing inside jokes? Replacing me as his roommate?

His heart churned, a storm raging inside him. He looked down at his half-empty bowl of ramen, his appetite long gone. Betrayal wrapped itself around him, squeezing tighter with every passing second. He exhaled shakily, setting the bowl down on the sidewalk.

"You know what? I don't care anymore," Jacques's voice sounds low but bitter. He pushed himself to his feet, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. "You guys can just skip all the trouble. I'm not getting in your way."

"Jacques , wait—" Charles began, his voice laced with alarm, but Jacques didn't let him finish.

Without looking back, Jacques walked away, his steps purposeful, his jaw clenched tight. He didn't even bother finishing his ramen.

"Where are you going?" Charles called after him, scrambling to his feet and dropping his bowl carelessly on the ground. He hurried after Jacques , catching up just enough to grab his elbow.

But Jacques yanked Charle's hands with a cold, forceful motion. His eyes were sharp, his voice sharp enough to cut. "Replace me with Harvey while I'm burning myself out, working my ass off trying to keep us together? I hope he's worth it!"

"Replace you—?" Charles started, confused, but Jacques wasn't waiting for clarification. He was already storming away, his steps quickening as if he couldn't get away fast enough.

"Jacques ! Wait!" Charles shouted, but Jacques didn't even turn around.

Reaching the edge of the bridge, Jacques vaulted over the railing in one swift, graceful motion. He landed safely on the ground below, the impact softened by his athleticism. Without missing a beat, he broke into a run, disappearing down a narrow street.

Charles stopped at the bridge's edge, his breath catching in his throat as he stared down. The flyover loomed high above the road below, a crisscrossing network of paths illuminated by the faint glow of streetlights. Jacques's road stretched far beneath the overpass, too distant to reach, even though it was directly below.

Charles's hands gripped the cold metal railing, white-knuckled, as he leaned forward to glimpse where Jacques had landed. The drop wasn't just steep—it was terrifying. Jacques had jumped without hesitation, landing effortlessly on the road below. But for Charles, the very thought of leaping made his stomach churn. His knees locked, and a cold sweat prickled at the back of his neck.

To follow Jacques , Charles would have to take the long way around, walking several hundred meters to leave the flyover, descend the stairs, and backtrack through the winding streets below. It felt impossibly far—not just in distance but in courage.

"Are you serious…?!" Charles whispered, his voice breaking. He wanted to scream, to call out Jacques's name, maybe it can bring him back. But his throat felt tight, and the people milling around on the bridge made him hesitate. He couldn't bring himself to be vulnerable in front of strangers, couldn't risk their scornful glances or judgmental whispers. What if they judged him dramatic? What if he sounds like an idiot?

"What are you going to do now, Charles?" he asked himself bitterly. Cry? That seemed like the only option left.

"Seriously? He's just leave like that?!" Harvey's voice broke through Charles's despair, the sound of his footsteps approaching. "I can't believe that guy!"

"Take me home," Charles said, his voice trembling with suppressed emotion as he turned to Harvey, tears already streaming down his face. He knew Jacques wasn't just leaving physically—he was slipping away emotionally, too. "Now!"

Harvey's expression softened, concern replacing his usual bravado. "Okay, Charles," he said gently, placing a reassuring hand on Charles's shoulder. "Let's get you home."

As they walked away, Charles felt the weight of everything pressing down on him. His heart ached with the realization that Jacques wasn't just angry—he was hurt. And for the first time, Charles wondered if he'd crossed a line he couldn't come back from.

His heart feels uneasy, a sting of pain stabbing into his chest. Riding behind Harvey on the motorcycle, he can't help but let the tears flow. How did it end up like this? It's too late for him to realize that Jacques thought he was dating Harvey behind his back. Why did you go so soon, without giving me any chance to explain everything? You just misunderstood!

Charles returns to the dorm at 3 a.m., sneaking in carefully. There are CCTV cameras, but they never really check them unless something happens. Charles gets into his room safely, but as he enters the dorm, his heart breaks when he realizes Jacques isn't there.

Part of him can't believe that Jacques just left everything behind—his clothes, his books, his toothbrush, his flip-flops. He didn't even come back to the dorm, and something tells Charles that he will never come back.

***

There's some money left in his pocket, the prize from the previous race. As he sits on the bus, he realizes something: they didn't attack him or even touch him at all because it was Razz's motorbike—their leader's bike.

Normally, he would laugh it off, but not today. He feels so drained lately, especially after his emotional outburst. Now that he's had time to reflect, he knows himself better and wants to see his mother again—Marie Durant—to apologize for choosing a different path in life.

A song plays in the background. Jacques doesn't know who sings it, but the voice is soothing. It makes him feel relaxed.

"Let the whispers of the wind sing low,

A melody only your heart will know."

Jacques can't tell whether the singer is male or female. The voice is too soft for a man, but too low for a woman. Still, it's comforting and calms his mind. He leans his head against the bus window and begins to drift into the dream world.

"No more fears, no more tears to hold,

Just let my love enfold."

Jacques finds himself walking on an empty plain, everything shaded in hues of blue. Though the space is unfamiliar, he seems to know where he's going. It's been a long, lonely road—an endless path, with no visible end or goal in sight. All he sees is a pillar-like beacon of light in the distance. He feels drawn to it, like a moth to a flame; he's on his way home.

Then, he sees it.

A gazebo, white with four pillars and a dome on top.

Jacques's spirits light up as he sees it; finally, he's arrived!

Ignoring all the fatigue he feels inside, he rushes toward the gazebo. He's been walking for far too long—this endless, lonely, painful road.

In the gazebo, a slender male figure stands, his silver hair glistening. Glittering jewelry adorns his neck, fingers, wrists, and ears, complementing his gentle, feminine movements. He wears linen robes, with a thin, small golden belt tied at his waist, making him look like a Greek god. However, despite his beautiful appearance, he looks sad, his gaze fixed on the distance, as if he's waiting for someone.

As the wind shifts, he realizes something is coming; he can feel it in his heart.

He looks where the wind blows, as if the wind is pointing him in a direction, making him see something he's been waiting for.

It's Jacques, running impatiently toward the gazebo, eager to finally embrace the one who has been waiting for him for so long.

The silver-haired man's face lights up, and he leaves the gazebo to run and embrace the long-lost love that everyone said was already gone, tied up in another connection.

It doesn't matter now—he has found his way back home!

Just before they embrace each other, the dream ends.

"In the dream world's glow, I'll keep you near,

Forever cradled, where love knows no fear."

Before Jacques can make sense of his dream, a bright light comes into view. It happens so quickly—a truck horn blares, and the sound of shattering glass pierces the air. For a few seconds, everything shakes violently, as if he's inside a bartender's shaker.

When the turbulence subsides, pain engulfs his body. Blood drips from open wounds on his skin.

He can't move his limbs, can't even groan.

Something sharp has impaled his lower torso, and he's too afraid to look down to assess the damage.

Yet, the song continues to play…

"No storm can break this bond we've made,

You're safe with me, no need to be afraid."

Everything fades to black, and the pain melts away.

***

Jacques was rushed into the emergency room, unconscious and clinging to life. His body was a wreck—blood poured from multiple wounds, a broken right leg twisted unnaturally, and deep bruising spread across his lower right flank, just beneath the ribs. The crushed kidney in that region was a primary concern, but the impact had also shattered his hip, further complicating the already dire situation. Swelling and internal bleeding hinted at extensive trauma, and the medical team moved swiftly, their faces taut with urgency, knowing every second mattered.

"Any ID? We need to notify his family!" the doctor barked, his voice sharp as he remove Jacques's clothes with scissors.

A nurse frantically searched Jacques's belongings. "I'll check," she stammered.

"Run his blood type now," the doctor ordered, snapping on gloves. "He's going to need a transfusion—and organs donor. Fast."

For hours, the team worked tirelessly, stabilizing Jacques against all odds. His injuries were catastrophic. He'd been riding a bus from Nivara to Mojinko, heading back to his mother's house. A malfunctioning truck with failed brakes had collided with the bus in a fiery disaster. Out of all the passengers, Jacques was the only survivor—a grim miracle.

"Blood type!" the doctor yelled, sweat dripping down his temple as he sealed another wound.

The nurse burst back into the ER, her face pale and eyes wide with disbelief. She hesitated, clutching the chart to her chest like a lifeline.

"Doctor…" Her voice wavered. "The boy's not… Earthling."

The doctor froze, pulling down his mask to stare at her. "What?"

She took a shaky breath. "Aether cells detected," she whispered. "Possibly Xeravian… or Argonarian."

The doctor froze, his mind racing as he realized how unlikely it was to encounter an Argonarian—or even a Xeravian—in a small town like Mojinko. Xeravians and Argonarians—once thought to be extinct due to the war. Xeravians had been survivors, turned into voyagers. Argonarians had joined Earthlings a century ago, working together to maintain order across the galaxy. That was about 100 years ago.

Now, the last Argonarian was thought to have died decades ago. Attempts were made to clone him, with a contract signed before his death. However, the unique Aether cell within their chromosomes made it nearly impossible to create healthy cells for cloning. The Aether cell died when the soul left the body, meaning that Argonarians had to be alive for the cloning process to work—but even then, success was not guaranteed. The Aether cells made it incredibly difficult to replicate them, adding another layer of uncertainty to an already impossible endeavor.

"What are the odds…" he muttered to himself, shaking his head. But the real kicker wasn't their rarity—it was their biology. Though they looked identical to Earthlings, their chromosomes were utterly incompatible. Interbreeding was impossible. Organ transplants? Out of the question.

The doctor glanced at the boy's bloodied, fragile body on the operating table. How do you save someone when there's no one left in the universe who can save them?