Just me

"Neon! I made bacon!" his dad called from downstairs.

Neon scrambled to get dressed, but before he could finish, his buttoned white hemp shirt ripped right down the middle. His new physique was clearly too much for his old, tiny clothes. With a frustrated grunt, he ran downstairs, shirtless, his chest now too broad for anything that fit him before.

"Dad, I need new clothes!" he exclaimed, his voice deeper, profoundly calm.

"Clothes? What are you, a girl?" His dad turned to face him, then froze, his eyes widening in disbelief. The frying pan full of bacon slipped from his hand and clattered onto the floor.

"Wha—!? Who the hell are you?!" He pointed the pan at Neon. "Neon, you bringing guys over? Is that why you don't have a girlfriend?!"

Neon's eyes widened at his father's words. "Dad, what are you talking about? It's me!"

His dad waved the pan around, eyes suspicious. "You can't fool me. Who runs out of a room with nothing but underpants on? I've seen these games before."

Neon slapped his palm to his forehead. "Dad, please."

His father squinted, lowering the pan just slightly, his suspicion not yet fully gone.

"Neon?" he asked, stepping closer, his brow furrowed.

Neon lifted his head and looked his father in the eyes. "Yeah… it's me."

The old man stared at him, taking a slow step forward. His hands rested on Neon's broad shoulders as he squeezed, letting out a deep sigh of disbelief. "I can't believe it... this could only be the cause of one thing..."

Neon's heart skipped a beat. Does he know about the angel? Has this happened before? Does he know what to do? Am I going to be held accountable?

"MY GENES FINALLY KICKED IN!!!" His dad shouted triumphantly.

Neon blinked twice, completely thrown off. His father wrapped his arm around Neon's neck, ruffling his hair like he was a child. "It's about damn time puberty kicked in. I was starting to wonder if you were adopted."

Neon could only stare at him, then sighed, accepting the madness. "Sure, let's go with that."

His dad laughed heartily, slapping him on the back. "Hahaha, I should get you a beer to celebrate!"

Neon's face twisted in disbelief. "Dad, I'm still in middle school."

His dad stopped mid-waddle to the fridge, turning to give him a look from head to toe. "You sure you're not 20?"

Neon walked out of the room, letting out a disappointed sigh.

"Or at least 18!" his dad shouted after him from the kitchen.

Neon sprinted up the stairs, his feet practically gliding over each step. "Wow, I'm really fast!"

He practically flew into his room, slamming the door behind him and drowning out his father's voice.

"I'm practically made of muscle… well, I am, but this is just over the top!"

He ran to his desk, his gaze falling on the mirror. He paused, staring at his reflection. His skin glowed, his hair shimmered, and his ice-blue eyes gleamed with an unnatural vibrancy. His pearly-white teeth sparkled like they belonged in a toothpaste commercial.

"I look like some kind of Greek god."

He ran his fingers over his perfectly smooth skin, still trying to process everything."This has to be the result of that stinking angel... wait a minute—where is that stinking angel?"

A squeaky voice broke through his thoughts. "You looking for me?"

Neon spun around, and a burst of pink dust and glitter exploded everywhere. Through the haze, a familiar sight emerged—a small, round angel with googly eyes and a set of tiny, fluttering wings. It was Publié.

"Publié!" Neon groaned, throwing his hands in the air.

"Yes, it's me, mortal! Did you miss me?" the angel chirped, flying closer in a flurry of sparkles.

"No, I didn't miss you! Can't you see what you did to me?!" Neon snapped, stepping forward and getting right in her face.

The angel blinked in confusion. "What do you mean? You look great! Way better than before, I'd say. Before, you looked like the ugly duckling. Well, not toooo ugly, just enough to be ignored by all the other ducks. But now? Look at you! A real-life swan!"

Neon froze. "No, I don't—I don't... I don't want to be the swan."

His face, once awkwardly pale and unimpressive, was now undeniably handsome—but his expression was serious, not pleased.

"What do you mean? You don't want to be the swan?" Publié tilted her head, genuinely confused.

Neon took a deep breath and looked up at her. "I liked the way I was. I know I was boring and ambitionless, but I liked it that way. It was my way. I never asked for an angel to mess that up. And I never meant to disturb the balance of the universe… just by being me."

The angel stared at him, her round eyes filled with sympathy. She tried to speak, but her voice caught in her throat.

Neon's eyes welled up with tears. His voice dropped to a whisper. "…Why can't I just be me?"

There was a long silence. Publié hovered quietly, her wings flapping gently in the still air. Neon didn't look away from the mirror, the reflection staring back at him as if he didn't recognize the person he'd become. His chest tightened with frustration, and the confusion seemed to rise like a storm inside of him.

"Why can't I just… be me?"