Shadows of the Past

Professor Calloway's class wrapped up with his usual sharp dismissal, leaving no room for stragglers. Students shuffled out, some groaning about the workload while others engaged in idle chatter.

Xerxes leaned back in his chair for a moment, stretching his arms behind his head. "Man, that guy could use a hug," he muttered under his breath before standing up and slinging his bag over his shoulder.

Sera, who had been watching him from a few seats away, rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress a small smirk.

The flow of students moving through the hallways carried him along like a slow-moving tide. He spent the next few hours cycling through his remaining classes—some were bearable, others made him want to jump out of the nearest window (figuratively, of course).

By the time the last class ended, the sky outside had taken on a golden hue, signaling the slow approach of evening. The heat of the day had mellowed, and a gentle breeze swayed the trees lining the walkways.

Xerxes stepped out of the lecture hall, exhaling.

Finally, done for the day.

Just as he was about to make his way toward the campus gate—

"Xerxes!"

Sera's voice cut through the noise.

He turned just as she jogged up to him, her brows slightly furrowed. "What happened earlier? With Dick?"

Xerxes smirked, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Oh, that? Just some business." He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. "But if you're so interested in my affairs, we could always talk about our business over dinner."

Sera rolled her eyes, though she felt the heat rise to her cheeks. Why does he always do this? He acted so effortlessly carefree, but she wasn't buying it. Something was off—Dick had run off earlier looking spooked, and now she wanted answers.

Before she could press further, Xerxes' phone buzzed in his pocket.

Glancing at the screen, his smirk faded. Yuan.

He clicked his tongue but answered. "Yeah?"

"Xerxes," Yuan's voice came through, firm but carrying a hint of hesitation. "Are you coming?"

Xerxes frowned. "Coming where?"

"To your dad's birthday. The whole family's gathering—it's a reunion. Your parents want to see you."

Silence.

Sera watched as the shift in his expression was almost immediate—his usual playful demeanor faded, replaced by something… distant. His grip on the phone tightened, his jaw clenched. The confident, teasing Xerxes seemed to vanish before her eyes.

What did they say to make him look like that?

"Xerxes?" she asked hesitantly.

He didn't respond. He wasn't even looking at her anymore—his gaze was locked onto something far away, but there was nothing there.

Is he… sad?

Her chest tightened at the thought. She'd never seen this side of him before. Was it really just a simple family call?

"Did something bad happen?" she asked softly.

Still, no response.

As Xerxes stood still, his fingers tightened slightly around his phone. His vision blurred for a second—not from the setting sun, but from the weight pressing down on his chest. The world around him faded, swallowed by the pull of his own memories.

Flashback Begins—

Xerxes sat on the edge of his bed, back slouched slightly, one leg stretched out while the other tapped rhythmically against the wooden floor. His room was dimly lit, the only source of light coming from the bedside lamp, casting soft shadows along the walls. It was his own space—his sanctuary. But right now, it felt stifling.

Across from him, Xander stood by the door, his posture tense, shoulders squared like he was bracing for a fight. His fists were clenched, and his brows furrowed in frustration.

"I need your help," Xander said, his voice laced with something raw.

Xerxes sighed, tilting his head back against the wall. He had a bad feeling about this. "With what?"

Xander hesitated, but only for a second. "I'm going after them. The ones who—" He gritted his teeth, swallowing down his emotions. "The ones who made my life hell. They think they got away with it, but I'm gonna make them pay."

Xerxes' eyes flickered with something unreadable. His lips pressed into a thin line before he exhaled, shaking his head. "No."

Xander's expression darkened. "No?"

Xerxes sat up straight, locking eyes with his twin. "I helped you before, Xander. I stepped in when they pushed you around. But if you're asking me to help you be the bully this time? I'm not doing that."

Xander's jaw tightened, his hands trembling slightly at his sides. "You don't get it, do you? This isn't about bullying. It's about giving them a taste of what they did to me. I'm just making them feel the same pain they put me through."

Xerxes scoffed, his eyes narrowing. "That's the same damn thing. You think becoming them is gonna fix what happened to you?"

Xander stepped closer, his voice rising. "You sure didn't think twice when you wrecked them before! You tore them down without hesitation! And now you wanna act all righteous? Like you're above this?"

Xerxes clenched his jaw. His fingers curled into a fist at his side, but he forced himself to stay calm. He knew where this was going. He could see the storm in Xander's eyes—the desperation mixed with anger.

"I did it to protect you," Xerxes said, his tone quieter but firm. "Not to start some damn war. I did what I had to do to get them off your back, but I was never trying to ruin them. And I sure as hell wasn't doing it for revenge."

Xander let out a sharp, bitter laugh. "Bullshit. You enjoyed it, didn't you? The fight? The power? The way they looked at you in fear?" His eyes flashed with accusation. "You're just like me. The only difference is, I'm honest about it."

Xerxes' expression hardened. For a brief moment, something flickered in his gaze—something even he didn't fully understand. But instead of responding, he leaned back against the headboard, exhaling slowly.

"You're wrong," he finally muttered. "I don't get off on this. I fought because I had to. You? You want this."

Xander's nostrils flared, his breath heavy with frustration. "You're a goddamn hypocrite," he spat. "You don't wanna help me because you're scared of seeing yourself in me."

Xerxes' fingers twitched. His chest felt tight, but he refused to show it. Instead, he forced a smirk, tilting his head slightly. "Whatever helps you sleep at night. Now get out of my room. Go play your little tough-guy act somewhere else."

Xander's eyes burned with anger, but there was something else—something hidden behind the rage. Hurt.

"You think you're so damn cool," Xander muttered, his voice lower now, filled with something almost broken. "Like you're above all this. But at the end of the day, you're just trash, Xerxes."

Xerxes didn't even blink. "Sure, sure. Now leave."

Xander clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white. Then, with a frustrated growl, he turned on his heel and stormed out, slamming the door so hard the walls shook.

A muffled "Fucking hell!" echoed down the hall before silence settled in.

Xerxes sat there for a moment, staring at the ceiling.

His stomach twisted uncomfortably, but he pushed the feeling aside. Xander was just pissed—he'd cool off. He always did.

Or at least, that's what he thought.

Hours had passed since Xander stormed out of his room, and Xerxes had long since pushed their argument to the back of his mind.

Now, he was lounging on his chair, eyes glued to the screen, completely engrossed in the K-drama playing before him. The dim glow from the monitor cast soft shadows across his room, the only sound filling the space being the dramatic dialogue from the show.

He leaned forward slightly, his pulse quickening as the two lead characters locked eyes under the moonlit sky. The tension was palpable—the moment electric.

"Just kiss already," he muttered under his breath, his fingers tightening around his mouse as he felt that familiar thrill. That heart-fluttering rush of excitement.

Then—

RING! RING!

The sudden call shattered the atmosphere, jolting him back to reality.

Xerxes groaned, his eyes darting toward his phone on the desk. "Tsk... who the hell—"

The screen flashed with an all-too-familiar name.

Xander.

Xerxes sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Not now, man…" he muttered, clicking decline without a second thought.

The call ended. He turned back to the screen.

The male lead took a hesitant step forward. The girl's eyes widened.

Xerxes grinned. "Here we go…"

RING! RING!

Xerxes twitched.

He turned his head slowly, a sharp glare fixed on his phone. Xander—again.

"Fucking hell, Xander!" he yelled, frustration bubbling in his chest. "This is the best damn part! Can't you ruin my life later?" He hit decline again, shaking his head in disbelief before turning back to his show.

Minutes turned to hours.

Episode after episode passed.

By now, the romance had reached its peak, and Xerxes found himself utterly absorbed in the drama once more, his earlier irritation long forgotten.

Then—

RING! RING!

He groaned, rolling his eyes, about to curse Xander out loud—

—until he saw the name on the screen.

Yuan.

Xerxes raised a brow.

"Hah… don't tell me Xander sent you to convince me too?" he muttered before answering, putting the phone to his ear.

"Oi, Yuan, if you're just calling to force me to help Xander, I'm hanging up right now."

But—

The voice that answered wasn't the usual casual or annoyed Yuan.

It was shaking. Unsteady.

"X—Xerxes…" Yuan's voice cracked, heavy with something Xerxes couldn't quite place. "H-he… Xander…"

Xerxes frowned, sitting up straighter. "What the hell are you stuttering for? Spit it out."

Then he heard it.

A choked sob.

Something inside him tightened.

"Yuan…?" His grip on the phone instinctively tightened. "What's wrong?"

There was silence for a moment. Then Yuan took a deep breath—trying to steady himself—before speaking again.

"...Xander is dead."

Xerxes blinked.

For a second, he didn't register the words. He heard them, but his brain refused to process them.

A small, humorless chuckle left his lips. "What…? You serious? The guy's annoying, but don't joke about shit like—"

"I'm not joking, Xerxes!" Yuan's voice cracked, grief bleeding through every syllable.

Xerxes stopped breathing.

His mind blanked.

His heart pounded in his chest, erratic and deafening.

He couldn't move. Couldn't think.

Dead?

No. That— That wasn't possible.

His lips parted slightly, but no words came out.

Then he remembered.

RING! RING!

Xander had called.

Not once.

Not twice.

He had called again and again.

And Xerxes—

He ignored it.

His stomach twisted violently, a crushing weight pressing down on his chest.

If he had picked up—

If he had just answered—

Maybe…

Maybe he could have—

His hands trembled.

His breath hitched.

For the first time in years—

Xerxes Raven felt utterly, irreversibly helpless.

Xerxes stood there frozen, the memory crashing over him like a tidal wave. His eyes were still locked on something far away—something no one else could see—when a faint voice from his phone pulled him back.

"...Xerxes? Are you still there?" Yuan's voice echoed softly through the speaker. "Hey… are you coming home?"

The haze lifted just enough for him to respond, though his voice came out rough and distant. "I… I'll think about it."

There was a pause on the line, then Yuan gently reminded, "Your mom and dad… they're waiting for you, man."

Xerxes swallowed hard. A bitter taste clung to the back of his throat. "Yeah. Got it," he said, his voice quieter now. "Tell them I said… hi or something." Then, without waiting for a reply, he mumbled, "I'll call you later," and ended the call.

His thumb lingered on the screen for a second. Then, almost unconsciously, he tapped into his contacts.

Xander.

The name stared back at him.

He hadn't deleted it.

He couldn't.

For a few seconds, he just stared at it, chest tight, heart heavy.

Then a voice broke the silence.

"Xerxes?"

He flinched slightly and turned his head. Sera was still there, her brows furrowed with concern.

"You okay?" she asked softly, stepping a little closer. "You looked… really down after that call."

He forced a small smile, the kind that never reached his eyes. "Yeah… I'm fine."

He started to walk past her, not trusting himself to say more.

But Sera wasn't convinced. She turned and followed beside him. "You sure? You look like someone just dropped a brick on your chest."

He exhaled slowly, pausing for just a second before replying, "I don't want to talk about it right now."

Sera opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, he added, "I need to go. I've got a part-time shift."

And just like that, he walked off—not with his usual confident stride, but something slower. He didn't turn back, didn't say anything else.

Sera stood there, watching him go. Her curiosity warred with concern, and something deeper—something she couldn't quite name—tugged at her chest.

What the hell happened to him?

Sera remained rooted in place, her gaze trailing after Xerxes as he walked farther away. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows on the pavement, and though students moved around her, it all felt a little quieter—like the world had dimmed a notch.

He didn't even look back…

Her brows were slightly furrowed, lips pressed together in thought. Something was bothering him. She could feel it.

Just then, a pair of arms suddenly looped around her shoulders from behind.

"There you are!" Reina's voice was all sunshine and sass, her chin resting lightly on Sera's shoulder. "We've been looking everywhere for you."

"Found her!" Chloe's voice came next as she jogged up to them, a little out of breath. "Finally! Can we please eat now? I'm starving. If we don't leave soon, I might just collapse right here and turn into a ghost. A hungry ghost."

Sera blinked, pulled out of her daze. "Huh? Oh… right."

Reina peeked around to look at her face. "You okay? You look like you just watched someone walk off a cliff or something."

Sera gave a weak smile. "Not a cliff. Just… I don't know. Something feels off."

Chloe groaned dramatically. "Let's figure out the mystery after we eat. My stomach's literally staging a protest right now."

Reina laughed. "Alright, alright. Come on, Sherlock, you can mope and overthink while chewing on fries."

As they gently tugged her along, Sera glanced over her shoulder one last time.

Xerxes was gone.

But her questions were just getting started.

As the trio walked toward the campus gates, Reina suddenly paused mid-step, squinting at Chloe's shirt.

"Wait—what happened to you?" she asked, pointing at the faint orange blotch on Chloe's top. "Did your lunch try to escape or something?"

Chloe looked down and let out a dramatic sigh. "Ugh, don't remind me. This tragic masterpiece is courtesy of some clumsy guy who bumped into me earlier."

Reina raised a brow. "What? Someone bumped into you?"

"Yup," Chloe said with a nod, then grinned. "Totally ruined my food. Sent it flying like it had dreams of being an astronaut."

Sera, half-listening, tilted her head. "Seriously? Did you yell at him?"

"I was about to," Chloe replied, eyes gleaming. "But then I saw his face." She held her hands up as if framing an imaginary portrait. "Girl. Giiiirrrl. He was hot. Like, melt-my-sanity, straight-out-of-an-action-movie kind of hot."

Reina laughed. "You're such a simp."

Chloe shrugged proudly. "Guilty. Honestly, I didn't even get mad. Like, at all. He apologized—kind of awkwardly—but still. And I have a feeling he's gonna show up and compensate me. It's fate."

Sera blinked. Her brain ticked back to earlier. A guy who bumped into someone. Handsome. Awkward apology…

Could it be…?

No. It couldn't be… right?

She didn't say anything, but her expression tightened slightly.

Reina smirked. "So lemme get this straight—you forgave a guy who destroyed your food just because he was cute?"

"I mean," Chloe said, dramatically flipping her hair, "some things are worth sacrificing for destiny."

Reina laughed again while Sera glanced toward where Xerxes had disappeared minutes ago.

Destiny, huh?

The bell above the café door jingled softly as Xerxes stepped behind the counter, tying his apron with practiced ease. The rich aroma of coffee beans and warm pastries wrapped around him like a familiar cloak. The place was mellow, a soft hum of chill music drifting through the air as the late afternoon light poured through the windows in golden streaks.

He had just finished wiping the counter when the door swung open again, and in came Dick Ryder—grinning from ear to ear like a kid who just found an extra toy in his Happy Meal.

Xerxes raised an eyebrow as Dick made a beeline straight for the counter.

"One venti Iced Caramel Macchiato, please," Dick announced proudly. "Just one this time."

Xerxes chuckled as he tapped in the order. "Wow, no backup troops today?"

"Nah," Dick laughed. "Figured I'd treat myself. And also, thanks… y'know… for earlier. You seriously saved my ass."

Xerxes gave him a casual nod, brushing it off. "Anytime someone's gonna get their ribs turned into a xylophone, I gotta step in."

Dick grinned. "Hey, what's your favorite coffee, by the way?"

Xerxes glanced up from the screen, smirking. "If they sold a 7XL Americano, I'd probably inject it straight into my bloodstream."

Dick laughed, then pointed a finger. "Alright, add a venti Americano to that. Label it 'Ryder'—makes me feel cool."

"Coming right up, Mr. Cool." Xerxes turned away to make the drinks.

Minutes passed, the hiss of steamers and clink of cups filling the air. The vibe was calm, comfortable. At last, Xerxes turned and called out, "Iced Caramel Macchiato and Americano for Ryder!"

Dick bounced from his seat and walked over. He grabbed his Macchiato and handed the Americano across the counter to Xerxes.

Xerxes accepted it with a lifted brow. "Look at that. Now it really feels like a bribe."

Dick winked. "Just saying thanks."

Xerxes took a mock sip and added with a playful smirk, "Don't come running to me again when you decide to go all John Wick on your bullies."

Dick laughed, saluted with his cup, and made his way to a nearby table. That easy, grateful smile never left his face.

For a brief moment, Xerxes just watched him—then turned back to the counter, that usual calm grin slipping back onto his face.

As time trickled past and the evening mellowed into calm, the warm glow inside the café dimmed as Marco flipped the "OPEN" sign to "CLOSED." The last customer had left, the machines were off, and the scent of coffee lingered in the air like a gentle memory.

Xerxes wiped down the last table before tossing the cleaning rag onto the counter. He let out a tired sigh and stretched his arms above his head.

"Finally," Marco muttered, rolling his shoulders. "You walking home?"

Xerxes shook his head. "Nah. I'm doing a light jog. Gotta clear my head before I go home."

Marco raised a brow. "Jogging at night? You serious?"

Xerxes gave him a casual grin, grabbing his bag. "Dead serious. Gotta run the ghosts out, y'know?"

Marco chuckled and waved him off. "Alright, weirdo. Don't get jumped or something."

"No promises," Xerxes said with a smirk as he stepped outside into the cool night.

The city had settled into a quiet lull. The streets were mostly empty, lit only by the occasional hum of flickering streetlights. Xerxes adjusted his hoodie, earbuds in but not playing anything. He wanted the silence tonight. Just him and his thoughts.

Jogging at a steady pace, he muttered to himself between breaths.

"Go or no go… go or no go… no go… no—" he exhaled hard, then stopped in his tracks, laughing breathlessly. "Ah, fuck it. Let's just go."

He tilted his head toward the sky, watching as the stars peeked between the drifting clouds. His heart felt heavy but weirdly light at the same time.

"It's not like they're gonna kill me if I show up, right?" he muttered to himself, chuckling dryly.

He pulled out his phone to call Yuan. But the moment the screen lit up, his breath caught. His thumb hovered over the contact list where a familiar name stared back at him.

Xander Raven.

"Shit…" Xerxes whispered.

He stared at it for a few seconds longer. A silent weight pressing on his chest.

It's just a number now… but still…

His thumb, almost on instinct, tapped Xander's name.

The line rang.

Once.

Twice.

Then the automated voice:

"The number you dialed is unavailable. Please try again later."

Tot. Tot. Tot.

Xerxes closed his eyes, lips twitching in a smirk that didn't reach his eyes.

"Figures…" he murmured.

Without hesitating this time, he scrolled and called Yuan.

"Yo," Yuan answered quickly.

"I'm going," Xerxes said bluntly.

There was a beat of silence. "You sure?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm sure. Not like I forgot it's my dad's birthday or anything."

Yuan let out a relieved laugh. "Just making sure. It's this Sunday."

Xerxes scoffed. "I know when my dad's birthday is, dumbass."

Suddenly, a faint moan echoed through the call from Yuan's side.

"…Wait—what the hell was that?" Xerxes said, raising a brow.

"Oh—uh…" Yuan fumbled. "Nothing!"

Xerxes laughed loud. "Bro, don't tell me you're in the middle of something while calling me?"

Yuan groaned. "It's not what it sounds like!"

"I swear, if Rose is beside you right now, you better thank her for letting you call me during… whatever—"

"Shut up!" Yuan hissed, clearly embarrassed. "I'll pick you up Sunday morning."

"Yeah, yeah," Xerxes chuckled, starting to jog again. "Don't bring flowers or anything, lover boy. See you Sunday."

"Later," Yuan mumbled, and the call ended.

Xerxes tucked his phone back into his pocket, his steps slowing to a thoughtful walk.

He glanced up again at the quiet sky, his breath misting in the cold air.

Maybe it's time, he thought. Time to face it…

And yet, as his footsteps echoed alone on the empty street, the guilt still clung to his chest like a shadow.

Xander... I wish I had answered.

The days blurred by like fading chalk on pavement, each one melting into the next with routine distractions and passing conversations. School came and went, shifts ended and started, and still, the weight of tomorrow loomed over Xerxes like a quiet storm cloud. And now, it was the day before Sunday.

The late afternoon sun stretched golden arms over the city, casting long shadows across the familiar stretch of Greenhill Park. The old swing sets creaked in rhythm with the breeze, and the sound of kids laughing echoed faintly in the background. The scent of grass, mixed with the earthy calm of falling leaves, filled the air—oddly comforting.

Xerxes stood under the tall sycamore tree near the basketball court, hands buried in his hoodie pocket, his head tilted slightly to the sky as if waiting for a reply from the universe.

"Hey, bruh…" he muttered softly, a smile twitching on his lips. The word felt foreign without hearing it echoed back in Xander's usual cocky tone.

"Hope you already talked to Mom and Dad up there—or wherever you're watching from. Kinda need you to soften 'em up before I walk into that storm tomorrow," he added with a dry chuckle, trying to lighten his own heart.

He kicked a small pebble, watching it bounce across the pavement.

"You'd laugh at me right now, huh? Acting all sentimental like I'm the soft twin."

The wind blew gently, rustling the leaves above him. He glanced up again, squinting.

"Anyway, I'm coming." His voice dropped lower, laced with something heavier. "Just… try not to haunt me or anything, alright? I'm already haunted enough."

Xerxes exhaled slowly and sat down on the edge of the old bench—the one they used to argue on, joke around, or sometimes just sit in silence together. His fingers grazed the carvings they left behind on the wood years ago. "X & X – Never Losers."

He stared at it for a long while, jaw clenched.

"I still don't know how to face them. How to explain... how I wasn't there. That I didn't answer your damn call."

Silence.

"You were mad. I was mad too. But still..." he shook his head. Still, I should've picked up.

A long silence hung between him and the breeze. Then, finally, he stood up, brushing the back of his jeans.

"Okay, that's it. No tears, no drama. I'm going in tomorrow like a man. Just don't let Mom hit me with her sandal or anything." He grinned, weak but real.

He took one last glance at the sky, gave the tree a small two-finger salute, and walked off.

Just as Xerxes turned away from the bench and took a step forward, a voice—calm yet cutting—broke through the quiet like a knife sliding across silk.

"So… this is the place where you two used to hang out, huh?"

Xerxes froze mid-step, spine straightening. His eyes narrowed, his senses spiking.

"But I'm pretty sure…" the voice continued, nonchalantly, "…this isn't the place you left him hanging on the phone."

Xerxes slowly turned around.

A guy stood a few paces behind him, casually leaning on a lamppost like he owned the place. He looked a bit older than most students, with messy dark hair and a long black coat that swayed in the wind like something out of a detective movie. His face? Unfamiliar. Completely.

But his eyes? Sharp. Observing.

"Who the hell are you?" Xerxes growled, brows furrowing.

The guy just smirked.

"Just a guy passing through… who happens to know a few things."

Xerxes stepped forward, jaw tightening, fists unconsciously curling.

"Then let me pass something on to you, stranger…" he said in a low, threatening tone.

"You don't know shit. And if you ever say something like that again—" his eyes flashed,

"—I'll rip your goddamn mouth open."

The stranger didn't flinch. In fact, he seemed amused.

"Touchy," he said, brushing a thumb across his jaw.

"Must've hit a nerve."

Xerxes took one more step forward, and this time the guy raised his hands casually in surrender.

"Alright, alright. No need to get violent." His eyes glinted.

"I'm not here to fight you, Raven. Just... testing the waters."

"How do you know my name?" Xerxes asked, voice flat and dangerous.

But the guy just grinned again, stepping back into the shadows.

"You'll see me again." He turned, hands in pockets. "Enjoy your little family reunion."

And with that, he vanished down the path, swallowed by the darkening park, leaving Xerxes standing there—tense, confused, and pissed.

His mind was spinning.

Who the hell was that?

But one thing was clear:

That guy knew something.

And he wasn't just passing through.

Sunday Morning

A loud knock slammed through the silence of Xerxes' apartment.

He groaned, pulling the blanket over his head like it could muffle the world outside. Another knock. And another. This time faster—impatient.

"Who the hell is—"

He blinked at the ceiling, then sat up, his hair a mess. "Déjà vu?" he muttered, scratching the back of his head as he shuffled toward the door. "Don't tell me this is karma for all the late mornings I dragged Xander outta bed…"

He twisted the knob and pulled the door open.

There stood Yuan—helmet on, one brow cocked, expression a mix of irritation and I-told-you-so.

"Well, good morning, Sleeping Disaster," Yuan deadpanned.

Xerxes blinked, then smirked. "Whoa, is that you, mom?"

"You're late. We said morning, not afternoon disguised as a.m.," Yuan scolded, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation.

Xerxes yawned and stretched. "Relax, it's still morning… by technicality."

He turned toward the kitchen. "Wanna coffee or something?"

Just as the words left his mouth, he froze mid-step, realization hitting him like a brick.

"…Damn it."

Yuan sighed, already pulling a familiar paper bag from the side pocket of his backpack. "You don't even need to say it. I knew you wouldn't have coffee. You live like a hermit who's allergic to groceries."

Xerxes grinned, rubbing his eyes. "You really brought coffee?"

Yuan handed him one of the cups. "Americano. Strong enough to wake the dead. Or at least wake you."

Xerxes took it gratefully, inhaling the bitter steam. "Bless you, cousin. If Xander saw this, he'd probably start a slow clap."

Yuan gave a faint smile but didn't say anything.

Xerxes glanced at him, his smirk softening just a little. "...Thanks for coming to get me."

"Don't get sappy on me now," Yuan replied, tapping the lid of his own coffee. "Save that emotional crap for the family later."

Xerxes chuckled, but deep down, he felt that familiar twinge in his chest.

Today's gonna be a ride.

 Some Minutes Later, Xerxes finally stepped out of his room, freshly showered, jacket half-zipped, and still towel-drying his hair. He looked less like a disaster and more like someone halfway presentable.

Yuan tossed him the extra helmet. "Let's move, turtle. Thanks to you, we're gonna be late."

Xerxes caught the helmet mid-air, grinning. "It's still early though, isn't it?"

Yuan shot him a dry look, already heading toward the door. "It's noon, dumbass. Travel time is two hours. Then we gotta stop at a gift shop 'cause you didn't buy anything yet. That's fifteen minutes if we're lucky and no one's hogging the cashier. If there's a line? Boom. Thirty minutes easy."

He glanced at his watch dramatically. "We'll arrive by 3 PM at best."

When he looked back up, he noticed Xerxes wasn't even listening—just standing there with the helmet in hand, a distant look creeping into his eyes.

Yuan narrowed his gaze. "...Don't tell me you forgot you need to buy a gift."

Xerxes blinked, then smirked sheepishly. "I didn't forget… I just—uh—forgot to ask Marco for a paycheck advance."

He shrugged. "So technically, I remembered. I just have zero money."

He let out a light laugh and looked at Yuan, full of mischief.

Yuan exhaled loudly, already reaching for his wallet. "Yah, yah, yah—I knew it. That look on your face is exactly why I brought extra cash. You're like a well-written debt horror story."

He handed him a few bills. "Not like this is the first time you've borrowed from me. And definitely not the first time you didn't pay me back."

Xerxes grabbed the money with a grin and hooked an arm around Yuan's shoulders. "Thank you, big brother Yuan. Thank you, big brother Yuan."

He kept chanting it dramatically as he locked the door behind him.

Yuan groaned. "Come to think of it, I'm four years older than you but you still treat me like we're the same age."

"Because you didn't have friends when you were young," Xerxes shot back with a grin. "You only played with us. So, technically, we were always a trio. Almost like triplets."

He mounted the back of Yuan's motorbike and slipped the helmet on.

"But your face was the one that gave us away."

Yuan started the engine. "You wanna walk to the province?"

Xerxes laughed. "Love you too, hyung."

And with that, they sped off—one with a grin, the other with a sigh, both heading toward a day they couldn't outrun.

The motorcycle engine quieted with a final sputter, and Yuan parked on the side of the old familiar road. The house stood before them, aged gracefully with warm-colored bricks and a small garden that swayed gently in the afternoon breeze. Nothing had changed, but everything felt different.

Xerxes stared at it from behind his helmet, the weight in his chest heavier than any gear he'd worn in fights. The front door creaked open.

"Guess who's with me?" Yuan sang, stepping aside dramatically with the enthusiasm of someone who had waited too long for this day.

And then… her.

Xerxes' mother stood in the doorway. The moment her eyes found her son, time seemed to still.

Her lips trembled. "X-Xerxes…"

A sob broke through as she rushed forward, eyes already brimming with tears. She wrapped her arms around him, her whole body trembling.

Xerxes stood frozen, arms stiff at his sides. His throat burned. His eyes turned red, tears threatening to push past, but he clenched his jaw.

Don't cry. Don't fall apart now.

He wanted to lift his arms. He wanted to hold her back. But something inside him was locked.

His hands—trembling. His chest—tight.

"It's been so long…" she whispered into his shoulder. "My baby…"

Behind them, soft steps approached.

Xerxes' father stood at the edge of the doorway, his usual strong expression cracking. His eyes were red, too, but not a single tear fell.

The old man stayed composed.

Just barely.

Yuan, still holding a large, wrapped gift box in his arms, shifted awkwardly. "Uhh… not to ruin the heartfelt reunion but… this thing's hella heavy, man."

That cracked the silence.

Xerxes let out a small snort through his nose, and finally lifted his trembling arm to pat his mom's back.

"Alright, alright," he muttered. "You're gonna break my ribs before the old man does."

His mom laughed through her tears. "I'll take it over you breaking my heart by disappearing again."

Xerxes didn't answer, just gave her a soft nod, then turned toward his father.

For a second, neither said a word.

Their eyes met—father and son—decades of pride, silence, pain, and love compressed in that one look.

Then, without saying anything, his dad stepped forward and gave Xerxes a firm, warm tap on the shoulder.

No words.

Just the kind of touch that said everything.

Xerxes inhaled sharply. That's all he needed.

Yuan broke the silence with a chuckle, walking past them into the house. "C'mon, you two. Let's not block the entrance with your 'staring contest of feelings.'"

"Shut up," Xerxes muttered under his breath as he followed, but there was no heat in it.

As they stepped inside the house, the familiar scent of home—old wood, spice, and the faint floral detergent his mom always used—hit him like a punch to the gut. Nostalgia and guilt intertwined.

Inside his heart:

I should've come home sooner.

I should've answered Xander's calls.

I should've…

But for now, for this moment, he would let himself be home.

The long wooden table was filled with homecooked dishes, laughter, clinking utensils, and the low hum of conversations bouncing around the cozy dining room. Plates passed from hand to hand, and for a moment, everything felt… normal.

Then it happened.

Victor Darnell—Xerxes' older cousin, with his usual smugness hidden behind a glass of red wine—set his drink down and glanced around the table.

"You know," he began casually, tone just a little too loud, "this reunion is almost perfect."

Everyone paused, attention turning his way.

"Almost," he repeated, then smirked. "Would've been even better if Xander was here too... but well, I guess not everyone had someone to help them when it actually mattered."

The clatter of a fork hitting a plate rang sharp in the silence that followed.

Xerxes didn't move at first. He just stared at his half-finished plate, the air thickening around him.

His mother's eyes welled instantly. His father stiffened. Yuan's jaw tightened as he whispered under his breath, "Son of a—"

Victor leaned back with mock innocence, swirling the wine. "What? Just saying. Family helps family, right? Or at least, that's what we say."

Xerxes slowly placed his utensils down. His voice came out low, but clear. "I'm full."

"You barely touched your food," his mother said, reaching out.

"I just need some air," Xerxes replied with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. He stood, pushing his chair back with a scrape. "Excuse me."

Yuan stood to follow, but his mom moved too. Yuan gently stopped her. "I'll talk to him, Aunt Mariana."

Outside, the fresh evening breeze hit Xerxes' face like a cold slap. He lit a cigarette with shaky hands, staring at the darkening sky.

Yuan found him leaning against the porch rail, silent.

"Proud of you for not punching Victor," Yuan said.

Xerxes exhaled a bitter laugh. "Why? He's just stating facts, right?"

"You know that's not true."

Xerxes took another drag and didn't answer right away. Then he said, "Thanks, by the way… back when Mom hugged me earlier. If you hadn't stepped in, I would've cried. And if I cried… they'd all cry too. I don't want that."

Yuan looked at him, quiet for a moment. "You're stronger than you think, you know."

Xerxes flicked the ash from his cigarette and muttered, "Yeah… but not strong enough back then."

The warm breeze swayed the branches gently as Xerxes and Yuan leaned against the railing outside, sharing a cigarette and quietly joking. Their laughter was soft, like an old memory dusted off for a moment of peace.

Then, the door creaked open.

Mariana stepped out, her expression unreadable but calm. "Yuan," she said softly, "can I speak with Xerxes alone?"

Yuan glanced at Xerxes, then gave a small nod. "Sure, Aunt Mariana," he said, giving Xerxes a pat on the shoulder before slipping back inside the house.

The moment Yuan disappeared, silence fell between mother and son.

They sat together on the porch steps. The quiet stretched, not uncomfortable, but heavy. Xerxes didn't look at her. His cigarette had burned out, forgotten between his fingers.

Then, softly, Mariana broke the silence.

"We know what really happened to Xander," she said. "Your father and I… we understand how you feel."

Xerxes closed his eyes.

"You don't have to keep blaming yourself," she added, her voice trembling just a little.

His breath hitched. He turned his face slightly away, but not fast enough to hide the tears gathering in his eyes.

"If I just answered his call… if I just helped him until the end…" Xerxes' voice cracked. "He wouldn't be gone. He wouldn't have died thinking I turned my back on him."

His shoulders started to shake as tears spilled freely. "I regret it, Mom. Every day. There's not a single day I don't think about it. Not one."

Mariana didn't speak. She just pulled him into her arms, hugging him tightly.

"We know the truth," she whispered. "All of it. And we don't blame you, sweetheart."

Xerxes sobbed against her shoulder, no longer able to hold it in.

"I should've protected him…"

"I know," she said, gently stroking his back. "But even if it hurts so much for us—your father and me—we know it hurts even more for you."

Her voice was soft, but firm. "You were his twin. You felt it all more than anyone ever could."

Xerxes didn't say anything after that. He just cried in her arms, broken and vulnerable in a way only a son could be in front of his mother.

And Mariana held him the entire time, never letting go. The only sound on the porch was his quiet, heart-wrenching sobs—and the wind gently carrying them into the night.

After some time passed, Mariana gently broke the silence.

"We should head back inside. Your father's probably waiting for you to sit beside him," she said softly, brushing her son's hair as they stood.

Xerxes sniffled, wiped his face, and nodded. "Yeah… let's go."

Inside the house, the mood had mellowed. Laughter and the clatter of dishes filled the air. Xerxes walked back in with his mother, a little more composed now, and made his way to the table where Theodore—his father—was seated. The older man shifted to the side and patted the seat beside him.

Xerxes plopped down and pulled out the neatly wrapped package from his bag, placing it on the table in front of his dad.

"Here. I brought you something."

"Oh?" Theodore raised an eyebrow. "You better not be giving me some tech trash or another one of those 'deep and meaningful' books you never read yourself."

Xerxes grinned. "It's from the heart, I swear."

Theodore opened it, peeled back the wrapping—and stared.

Inside was a mug. A simple white mug. But in bold black text, it read:

"Best Dad Ever (According to Mom)"

…with a tiny, smug cartoon version of Mariana giving a thumbs-up printed on the other side.

Everyone at the table burst into laughter. Even Mariana tried to hide her amused smile behind a napkin.

Theodore blinked, then narrowed his eyes in mock offense.

"Boy… are you trying to start a war in this house?" he said, deadpan. "After all these years, you finally come home, and you bring me this betrayal in ceramic form?"

Xerxes chuckled. "I just wanted to keep things equal. Can't let Mom have all the merch."

"You better give me a matching mug next year that says 'Dad's Still the Boss.'"

The room grew warmer, more vibrant with the shift in mood. One of the relatives raised their glass.

"To the Raven family reunion—now with 100% more dramatic sons and terrible gift choices!"

A few of the older relatives approached Xerxes with pats on the back and warm smiles.

"It's really good to see you home again," one uncle said.

Another leaned in. "You made the right choice, coming back."

Then came one of his cousins—Celia—with a mischievous smirk.

"Oi, Xerxes, tell the truth," she teased. "You got a secret family somewhere, huh? A wife and three kids hiding in the city? That's why you never came back, isn't it?"

The room laughed again, including Xerxes—until a cold voice slid through the warmth like a knife.

Victor.

"Secret family or not, at least he had the guts to show up. Can't say the same for his brother."

The laughter died instantly. The mood shattered.

Victor leaned back in his chair, smirking over his wine glass.

"Then again, maybe showing up without your other half isn't as brave as it looks."

The laughter faded. The tension in the room tightened.

But instead of letting the silence hang, Xerxes turned to him with a half-smile and a raised brow.

"Wow, Victor. That was deep. But hey, maybe let's save the family drama for your birthday. Today's Dad's, remember?"

A few relatives snorted, some outright laughed, trying to stifle it. Even Theodore raised his glass with an amused shake of his head.

Victor's smirk twitched.

Xerxes leaned back in his seat, popping a grape into his mouth. "Unless, of course, you're planning to make it all about you again. That's, what, the third time this month?"

A cousin coughed into his drink, failing to hide his laugh. Aunt Lisette didn't bother hiding hers.

"Serves you right, Victor. Sit down and eat."

Victor huffed but didn't say another word. The table slowly returned to its warmer atmosphere, chatter picking up again.

Theodore gave Xerxes a subtle thumbs-up and leaned in with a grin.

"Remind me to never piss you off at my own party, son."

Xerxes smirked, "No promises, old man."

Mariana passed behind them, placing a new tray of food on the table. She glanced at the two with an affectionate eye-roll.

"Ugh, like father, like son. I should've married someone boring."

Theodore shot back, "But then you'd have no one to roast at reunions. Admit it—you live for the chaos."

She tapped his head lightly with a ladle. "And yet I somehow still cook for you."

Everyone laughed. Even the tension in Victor's jaw seemed to ease a little—though he stayed quiet, finally picking at his food.

Xerxes looked around. For the first time in a while, this felt like home.

As the night wore on, the food dwindled, the laughter mellowed into quiet conversations, and the younger kids had long passed out on couches or in their parents' laps. The warmth of the family gathering lingered in the air, like the scent of roasted lechon and sweet desserts still hanging around the table.

Xerxes stretched his arms with a soft groan and glanced at Yuan, who was leaning against the doorframe scrolling through his phone.

"Hey, cousin," Xerxes muttered, "think we should head out?"

Yuan didn't look up, just nodded. "Yeah. You've got class tomorrow, and I've got to meet someone early. The grind never ends."

Xerxes chuckled. "Back to the student life and mysterious side missions, huh?"

They both stood and made their way to the main room. Mariana noticed them putting on their shoes and hurried over.

"You're leaving already?" she asked, brushing her hands on her apron. "It's still early."

"It's midnight," Yuan said dryly.

Xerxes smiled at her. "I'll come home again soon, Ma. I promise."

Mariana sighed and gently cupped his face. "You better. And bring home some laundry while you're at it. Let me feel needed."

Theodore approached, hands behind his back. "Good. Less food for me to share now. Your cousins keep raiding the fridge."

Xerxes smirked. "You'll survive. And you still owe me a rematch in poker."

Theodore grinned. "You wish. I'm the family champ, boy."

Mariana laughed. "More like family scammer."

They all shared a round of chuckles before Yuan opened the door.

As they stepped out into the cool night air, a few relatives waved from inside.

"Take care!"

"Don't be a stranger, Xerxes!"

"Study well, boys!"

Victor muttered something under his breath, but this time, nobody paid him any mind.

Xerxes glanced back one last time, catching his mom's soft smile and his dad giving him a nod of pride.

He took a deep breath, hands in his pockets.

"Back to reality," he muttered.

Yuan nodded beside him. "Yeah. But this time… you're not going through it alone."

And with that, the two disappeared into the night—one step closer to the next page of the fight ahead.