A little detour before the new way home

The familiar chime of the automatic door greeted us as we stepped inside the informatics store. A wave of cool air swept over me, carrying the sharp scent of plastic, fresh packaging, and the faint warmth of circulating power.

To someone like Mary, this was just a tech shop. But to me? It was a second home—a sanctuary for the broke and obsessed. I used to roam these aisles like a starving ghost, eyes glued to the latest gear, specs dancing in my mind like dreams I couldn't afford.

Rows of neatly displayed PC towers stood like soldiers in glass cabinets, RGB lights pulsing softly like mechanical heartbeats. A wall of gaming peripherals—headsets, mice, mechanical keyboards—sparkled under the overhead LEDs, each one a temptation. On the far end, the GPUs were locked away like gold bars, a reminder of how much power cost in this world.

As I stepped in, a weight settled in my chest—half comfort, half ache. The kind of ache you get when you miss a version of yourself that used to believe everything was still possible.

Mary wandered ahead, eyes scanning the shelves with casual curiosity. "Wow," she murmured. "Didn't think you were into all this stuff."

I walked past her, fingers brushing the edge of a boxed 144Hz monitor. "This place was my favorite hang-out place," I said softly. "I used to come here every time I saved up a bit... or just when school sucked too hard."

I paused near the graphics card display.

For a moment, I saw a ghost of myself, younger and lighter, dragging Amir by the wrist down the same aisle. We were laughing, pointing at a freshly released RTX model.

"Bro, that's a literal kidney right there."

"No way this thing made it here already. It just launched last month!"

"The price tag's disrespectful, man."

I blinked, and the memory dissolved into air. Just a trick of the lighting, of course. But it clung to me.

"Used to spend hours here," I said, mostly to myself. "Didn't even need to buy anything. Just... being around all this made my day better. Giving in to my curiosity for once in while can be really good."

Mary glanced at me, then at a vertical tower case with neon trim. "So you just... window-shopped?" she asked, a half-smile on her lips.

I chuckled. "Window-dreamed. Sometimes I'd sneak back here after school. I knew every product, every price drop. Half the time, I was more helpful than the employees."

As if on cue, the man behind the counter looked up from his phone. Buzz cut, heavy eyes, permanently skeptical expression—yeah, same as always.

His gaze locked on me instantly.

"Well, well, look who it is," he said, leaning on the counter. "Didn't think I'd see you till your next paycheck, Vendor."

Mary raised an eyebrow. "Vendor?"

I shot her a sideways smirk before walking up. "Yeah, yeah. I know I only show up when I need something, but this time, it's different."

"Oh?" He crossed his arms, curious. "What, you finally gonna buy that overpriced GPU you keep drooling over?"

"Nah, I still need my organs for now. I'm here for something better." I straightened my back, slipping into that tone I practiced in the mirror once or twice. "I'm looking for a job. Figured with my knowledge, I'd be a good fit here. I know the products, I know what customers look for, and I've been helping people decide what to buy for free for years. Might as well make something out of it, right?"

Mary's eyes widened just slightly, caught off guard by the shift in tone. She looked like she was seeing me in a new light.

The owner tilted his head. "Not bad. But you know, I don't just hire anyone, Vendor. Got plenty of kids your age who think knowing how to build a PC means they can sell one."

"I expected that," I said with a calm nod. "But those kids don't already have a reputation here. I do." I gestured vaguely at the store. "You've seen me. You've seen how I talk to customers without even realizing it. I don't just understand the specs—I know how to match people with what they actually need, not just what looks cool on paper."

The man raised a brow, clearly weighing it. "Not bad. You been practicing speeches in the mirror or something?"

I held his gaze. "Figured you'd need convincing."

He held it for a beat... and then burst into laughter. "Alright, alright—shut the hell up and speak normally. It felt so freaking weird seeing you act all serious."

I let out a breath of relief and chuckled. "Man, I was being normal. Just... business-normal."

"Yeah, and it was creepy." He shook his head, still grinning. "Look, I'll think about it. You might be onto something, but I gotta see how you actually handle the job. Swing by this weekend, and we'll see if you're as good as you think."

I nodded, the corners of my mouth lifting. "Sounds like a deal."

As we stepped out of the store, the automatic door sliding shut behind us, the warm sun hit my face like a slap. The contrast between the sterile, humming world inside and the noise of the outside street was jarring.

Mary finally spoke. "I gotta say... I did not expect that."

"What, me being responsible?" I asked, smirking.

"No—well, yeah, that too—but mostly how fast you switched up. One second you're a goofball, the next you're basically a salesman." She shook her head with a mixture of amusement and respect. "It's honestly kinda impressive."

I stretched, folding my arms behind my head with exaggerated nonchalance. "Gotta keep people on their toes, you know?"

She rolled her eyes, but her smile lingered. There was something else in her expression—that soft, almost invisible admiration that says more than words ever could.

I liked that look.

And for the first time in a while, I liked the look I was giving myself too.

The sky was already slipping toward darkness. The digital clock across the street read 4:07 PM, but it felt more like evening. Winter always stole the day early, and today it looked particularly cruel.

Thick, low-hanging clouds rolled across the sky like a lead blanket, the kind that promised rain but never delivered it right away—just dangled it overhead like a threat. The air had changed since this morning. It was colder now. Not the loud, stormy kind of cold—but the quiet, sharp kind. The kind that crept under your clothes, bit at your fingers, and stung your throat if you breathed too hard.

Mary zipped up her jacket and pulled her sleeves over her hands as we started walking. "Remind me why we didn't take the bus?" she muttered.

"Character building," I said, shrugging.

She gave me a flat look. "Just be honest and say you're broke."

"Painfully."

We crossed the road, heading down one of the longer routes that wound through a series of residential neighborhoods, alleys, and half-dead fields. It wasn't a route people liked to take unless they had to, but it shaved a good ten minutes off the walk. And time mattered when you were walking straight into a winter funeral of a sky.

The wind picked up just as we passed a row of empty lots. It wasn't strong, but it was sharp—the kind of wind that scraped your ears raw and left your nose tingling with frost. A few gusts shot past us like needles, and I had to press my hand to my mouth as I coughed once, the cold air slicing down my throat.

Mary pulled her hoodie up and buried her face inside it. "This is unholy," she mumbled through the fabric. "If it starts raining, I'm firing you."

"That's fair," I said, stuffing my hands deep into my pockets.

For a while, we walked in silence, our footsteps crunching over scattered gravel and dead leaves. The sky above us darkened slowly, inching its way toward dusk, and that eerie pre-rain stillness settled over everything—the kind where you could almost hear your own thoughts echo.

I glanced at Mary. Her eyes were fixed ahead, but her shoulders were hunched, and she kept shifting her hands in and out of her sleeves, probably trying to keep them warm.

"You good?" I asked.

She sniffled. "No. I want soup and a blanket and for you to carry me home."

"I can get you two out of three."

"Oh? Which two?"

"Blanket and the illusion of comfort."

She let out a dry laugh. "You suck."

"Yet here we are."

The road curved, and we passed a small bakery that was closing up for the day. The warm, buttery smell that wafted out when the owner stepped outside was cruel. My stomach twisted at the scent. We hadn't eaten much at lunch, and the cold just made hunger sharper.

Mary seemed to notice too. "God, that smells amazing."

I gave her a look. "You can say that again. I never thought I would once think about adding a line in my bucket list to eat bread in winter outside."

She smirked. "Whatever helps you sleep at night, I'm pretty sure you have even worse wishes."

"Harsh. Accurate, but harsh."

Another gust of wind shot past us. I winced, coughing into my sleeve again. That one hit the throat like a blade.

Mary didn't comment, but she slowed her pace slightly to match mine. "Hey," she said after a moment, "if this weekend job thing works out, will you keep it long term?"

I thought about it.

Honestly, I wasn't sure. It all depended on whether her dad kept his end of the deal. If I was gonna keep playing bodyguard, I'd need more than two free meals a day and a smelly garage to sleep in.

But at the same time... working at the store felt right.

"It's not a forever thing," I said. "But for now? Yeah. I think I'd actually like it."

She gave a small nod. "Good."

Another silence stretched between us—a comfortable one this time. The kind that comes when two people are equally tired but not annoyed. Just... worn down.

By the time we reached the outskirts of her neighborhood, the last sliver of sunlight had disappeared. The sky had gone from dark grey to steel black, with only the faintest purplish tint near the horizon. Streetlights flickered on one by one, their glow barely enough to cut through the gathering mist.

We turned down the final road, boots crunching over salt-sprinkled pavement. The cold had gone from sharp to numbing, like even the wind was getting tired.

Mary sniffled again. "I'm making tea the moment we get inside."

"If I help you boil water, do I get a cup?"

She rolled her eyes. "You're down bad."

By the time we reached Mary's place, the sky had already turned a deep charcoal gray. The kind of sky that promised rain and never made empty threats. The first drops had already started tapping rooftops like impatient fingers.

She unlocked the garage side door without saying a word, and I stepped inside.

Whatever warmth the walk home gave me vanished the second I crossed the threshold. That sharp cold greeted me like an old enemy—stale air laced with grease and dust settling right back into my lungs. I shook off my damp jacket and tossed it beside my usual spot.

Mary hovered at the doorway.

"You gonna be alright tonight?" she asked.

I nodded. "Always am."

She didn't move.

"I'll bring you dinner later, alright?."

"Can't wait." I said, trying for a grin. however It came out tired.

She smiled a bit before leaving leaving.

The garage felt even darker after that. Colder too. I sat down against the wall, pulling my knees up and flipping open The 48 Laws of Power on my lap. It wasn't like I was actually reading—just skimming lines, letting the words blur. Anything to stop my thoughts from spiraling.

The cold made it hard.

A little while passed, and then the door creaked open again.

Mary stepped in, holding a plate wrapped in a towel and a plastic bottle of water. She was bundled in a thick hoodie and joggers, her cheeks flushed pink from the wind.

"Your royal dinner, my good sir," she said with a smirk.

I sat up straighter. "I feel honored eating this food."

She knelt beside me and placed the plate on the floor. The steam from the food curled up like it belonged somewhere warmer.

"You sure you're okay, Felix? You don't have to pretend this isn't harsh," she said quietly. "I mean... you're eating dinner in a garage. On the floor. You don't even come into the house."

I gave a half-shrug. "That was the deal, wasn't it?"

She looked away, then back at me. "Still. If there's anything I can do for you—like, anything that's actually possible—just say it. Seriously."

I hesitated for a second, then reached into my hoodie pocket and pulled out my phone. "Can you charge this?"

She blinked. "That's it? Seriously? That's not even a request. Gimme."

I handed it to her. "I mean, after treating you like a queen today, I figured I earned at least one favor."

She shook her head with a smirk. "You deserve more than that."

I flipped the book open again and tapped a dog-eared page. "Law 3," I said. "Conceal Your Intentions."

She leaned over a little, reading the title. "Okay?"

"You ever hear about Marquis de Sévigné?"

She frowned. "No?"

"He seduced a young countess just by being mysterious. Played the long game. Let her imagination do half the work. Built tension. But then... he slipped. Got too emotional. Showed too much. Killed the magic."

She stared at me. "So what, mystery's better than honesty?"

"No. But too much honesty, too fast? That ruins the magic too."

She tilted her head. "You think you're a seducer now?"

I gave her a lazy smile. "I think I like playing the long game."

She looked at me blankly before responding. "Felix if a girl ever threw herself at you, just know that she was either threatened or payed to do so." rolled her eyes, but didn't move to leave right away. "I'll go charge your phone. Be back later. Eat while it's warm, idiot."

"Got it," I said, already digging into the plate.

She stood at the door for a second too long—watching me like she had something else to say. Then turned, and left.