Chapter 4.2: The Storm Hits Home

Alex was deep asleep—really asleep, the kind that felt like it had taken years to finally reach him. The morning sunlight crept in through the blinds, casting soft stripes across his bed, making dust motes float lazily in the still air. Somewhere in the background, the quiet hum of a Saturday morning wrapped the house in calm. For the first time in a long while, he was just a kid. Just fifteen. Just sleeping in.

And then the storm hit.

It started with a buzzing sound—his phone rattling against the glass on his nightstand. Then came the ringtone. Loud. Sharp. Relentless. He groaned, pulled a pillow over his head. It didn't stop. Finally, with a grunt, he reached out and fumbled around until his fingers grabbed the phone.

He squinted at the screen. Leo.

Still half-asleep, he answered with a croaky, "What?"

"DUDE. WAKE UP. CHECK YOUTUBE. RIGHT NOW." Leo's voice exploded out of the speaker. "DON'T ASK. JUST DO IT."

Alex flinched and sat up, rubbing his face. "Leo... what time is it?"

"TIME ISN'T REAL. THE INTERNET IS MELTING DOWN. GO LOOK. NOW."

Then the call ended.

Alex blinked, confused, a knot forming in his stomach. He dragged himself out of bed and over to his desk, still groggy. He opened his laptop, the familiar startup chime sounding way too calm for whatever was going on. He clicked his way to his video page, expecting maybe a few hundred views if he was lucky.

And then he saw it.

His mouth fell open.

It wasn't a few hundred. It wasn't even a few thousand. The view count was in the millions—and climbing in real time. 1,241,518… 1,241,932… 1,242,117…

He stared, barely breathing. It had to be a glitch. No way.

And then came the comments. Flooding in faster than he could read them.

"Who IS this kid?"

"Ten times in a row. Crying in my car. Thank you."

"More real than anything I've heard in years."

"From Ohio—someone shared this and now my whole group chat is obsessed."

His brain couldn't keep up.

Then—BAM. His bedroom door flew open and smacked against the wall.

Leo stood in the doorway, panting, phone in hand, eyes wide, looking completely unhinged.

"I TOLD YOU!" he shouted, pointing at Alex like he'd won the lottery. "YOU'RE FAMOUS!"

He sprinted across the room and tackled Alex in a full-body hug, nearly lifting him off the floor. His energy was off the charts—pure joy, disbelief, pride, all rolled into one human explosion. Still clinging to Alex with one arm, he was already calling someone on speaker with the other.

"FINNEAS! GET BILLIE AND GET OVER HERE! NOW! NO TIME TO EXPLAIN! JUST RUN!"

From the phone came a very groggy, very annoyed voice. "Leo… what the hell are you yelling about?"

"ALEX IS FAMOUS!" Leo yelled back. He spun the phone around to show the laptop screen. "I'm sending you the link. Just come!"

He hung up before Finneas could respond.

A few minutes later, Billie and Finneas appeared in the doorway. They were clearly half-dressed in whatever they could grab—hoodies, mismatched shoes—still blinking off sleep, confused and cranky.

"Okay, what could possibly be so—" Finneas started, but then his eyes landed on the screen. His sentence died in his throat.

He crossed the room and leaned in, eyes scanning the numbers. His producer instincts kicked in fast. He clicked into the analytics and whistled.

"Jesus, Alex… your share rate is off the charts. It's going viral in the UK, Australia, Germany…"

But Billie wasn't looking at the numbers. She was looking at Alex.

He was just standing there, frozen in the middle of the room, pale and wide-eyed, like someone had unplugged his thoughts. She saw what the others didn't. Not the kid blowing up online. Not the viral moment. She saw the boy who'd been invisible at breakfast two days ago. The one who'd sung a song full of quiet pain, and now had the whole world listening.

She walked past the others without saying a word. Then she wrapped her arms around Alex from the side, pulling him in tightly. It wasn't a dramatic hug. It was steady, solid. Real. Like she was anchoring him so he wouldn't drift away in all the noise.

She leaned in and whispered, just for him, her voice barely louder than a breath:

"They finally see you."

That hit him harder than anything on the screen. Harder than the views. Harder than the comments. It wasn't about the numbers.

It was about being heard.

He felt something surge in his chest—something overwhelming, something he couldn't name. His knees almost gave out.

He looked around the room: Leo grinning like his face might crack, Finneas still muttering analytics in awe, Billie holding onto him like she wasn't letting go anytime soon.

The four of them stood there, in that tiny bedroom, as the numbers kept rising. The world outside didn't know their names yesterday.

Now it couldn't stop saying them.

The quiet echo he'd sent out had turned into a roar.

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