Sunday – June 24th, 2028 (11:45 AM)
The gymnasium was packed with families, teachers, and students, all buzzing with excitement as the principal’s voice echoed through the speakers. Tyson shifted uncomfortably in his seat, tugging at the collar of his graduation suit.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Principal Donovan began, standing at the podium with that charismatic smile that greeted his students everyday. “Today, we celebrate a milestone in the lives of these extraordinary young men and women. The class of 2028! The future lies ahead of you, bright and full of possibility. You are the next generation, the torchbearers who will lead us into a better tomorrow.”
Tyson leaned back in his chair, trying not to roll his eyes. He glanced to his left, where his best friend, Reginald, sat slouched in his seat. Reginald caught his glance, which made him smirk as he muttered “Next generation, huh? I didn’t know getting lectured for skipping class and eating cafeteria pizza counted as building a better tomorrow.”
‘
Reginald smirked at the joke, letting out a quiet laugh, trying not to draw attention. “C’mon, man. Don’t be such a buzzkill. This is supposed to be a big deal.” “Is it, though?” Tyson shot back, keeping his voice low. “I mean, it’s not like we cured cancer or anything. We passed some math classes. Barely.”
Reginald raised an eyebrow. “You’re telling me you don’t feel a little proud? All those late nights cramming for exams, all those ‘study sessions’ at my place that turned into FIFA tournaments, none of that means anything to you?” Tyson dimmed back to those memories, and smirked “FIFA tournaments were the highlight of the year, not this. Look at Donovan up there, acting like we’re gonna change the world. Most of us are just trying to figure out what to do next week.”
Reginald sighed, shaking his head. “You’re impossible, Ty. Just enjoy the moment for once. Don’t let all your hard work go nothin’.”
Tyson opened his mouth to reply but was cut off by a loud round of applause. Principal Donovan had paused for dramatic effect, gesturing toward the students with a beaming smile. “Class of 2028, you’ve shown resilience, determination, and an unwavering commitment to excellence. You’ve overcome challenges, adapted to change, and emerged stronger for it. And now, you stand on the precipice of your future, ready to take on the world.” “Precipice of my future,” Tyson whispered mockingly. “I feel like I’m about to fall off the edge.” Reginald elbowed him lightly. “Knock it off. Your Aunt May’s in the crowd. She’ll kill you if she catches you zoning out.”
That shut Tyson up. He straightened in his seat, glancing toward the section where his aunt sat. She was easy to spot, clapping enthusiastically, her smile wide enough to light up the whole gym. She was well dressed, her dark skin glistening along with her dress. Beside her sat Uncle Ben, who didn’t seem like he cared about this, but chose to be supportive regardless.
“Now,” Principal Donovan continued, “before we hand out the diplomas, I want to leave you with one final thought. Life is unpredictable. It will challenge you, test you, and sometimes knock you down. But every one of you has the strength to get back up. You are the architects of your destiny. Make every choice count.”
The applause that followed was deafening, and Tyson joined in reluctantly, clapping just enough to not draw attention to himself. Reginald nudged him with his elbow again. “See? Not so bad, right?” “Yeah, yeah,” Tyson muttered. “Let’s just get to the part where they call our names so we can get out of here.”
As if on cue, the principal began reading off names, and one by one, students made their way across the stage to collect their diplomas. Tyson watched as his classmates walked up, some beaming with pride, others visibly nervous. Soon, walked up to a redhead girl he unfortunately recognized.
He sat there silently, as she waved to the audience, the 2 of them making eye contact for a moment. When it was his turn, his heart started to beat a little faster. He stood, smoothing out his pants, and made his way to the stage. The applause was polite but steady, and he caught Aunt May wiping away a tear as she clapped, standing up for a second as Uncle Ben sat her back down. “You’re embarrassin’ the kid.” He whispered.
“Tyson Walker,” Principal Donovan announced, shaking his hand and handing him the diploma.
For a brief moment, as he stood there on stage, Tyson felt a flicker of something he couldn’t quite place.
“Don’t push it,” Tyson replied, but he couldn’t help the small smile that crept onto his face.
The ceremony dragged on for another hour, but Tyson barely noticed.
When the ceremony finally ended, the gym erupted into cheers. Students threw their caps into the air, hugging their friends and posing for pictures. Aunt May and Uncle Ben ran up into smothering him with a hug as Aunt May burst into tears “Oh Ty… I’m so proud of you.” Uncle Ben smiled too, “Good work sport.” Tyson found himself caught up in the moment, laughing and celebrating with Reginald and the others.
As they made their way outside, the warm sunlight felt like a fresh start. He turned, spotting MJ walking out. The 2 of them made eye contact and she waved, yelling out. “Smell ya later.” “Yeah, yeah, Bye Ms. Wonderful Personality.” As she left, Tyson looked around at his classmates, his uncle and aunt, the smiling faces of parents and teachers.
The sound of the car’s engine hummed steadily as Tyson sat in the driver’s seat, gripping the wheel with one hand and occasionally adjusting the rearview mirror with the other. Uncle Ben sat in the passenger seat, one arm casually resting on the door, while Aunt May was in the back, leaning forward just enough to be part of the conversation. The graduation ceremony had ended hours ago, but the celebratory atmosphere still hung in the air, filling the small car with a strange mix of excitement and bittersweet nostalgia.
"Well, Ty, that was one hell of a speech your principal gave," Uncle Ben said, his voice carrying that familiar blend of humor and warmth. “I think he even managed to keep you from zoning out, huh?” Ty chuckled, glancing at him slightly, eyes still on the road. “Barely. I was this close to falling asleep.” He held up his thumb and forefinger.
“Oh, don’t let him fool you,” Aunt May chimed in from the backseat. “I saw you smiling up there on stage. You were proud, even if you don’t want to admit it.” Tyson shrugged, his eyes now fully back on the road. “Maybe a little. It was mostly for Mom, though. She’s the one who really wanted this day to happen.”
The mention of his mother made the car fall silent for a moment, a quiet understanding passing between them. Aunt May reached out to pat his shoulder gently. “My sister would be so proud of you, Ty. More than you know. She was quite excited when I graduated, imagine her own son.” Tyson nodded, his grip tightening on the wheel. “Thanks, Aunt May.”
Uncle Ben cleared his throat, breaking the brief silence. “So, big man, now that you’re officially a graduate, what’s next? College? Career? Saving the world one soccer goal at a time?” Tyson smirked. “Well, I’ve been thinking about it a lot, actually. I’m planning to head back to Chestwood, and go to college there. You know, stick close to my hometown. Maybe even help out with the old soccer league I used to play in when I was younger.”
The moment the words left his mouth, Aunt May let out a sharp breath. “Oh no, Ty. Absolutely not. You are not going back to Chestwood.” Tyson frowned, glancing at her in the rearview mirror. “What? Why not?” “Because it’s a terrible idea,” Aunt May said firmly, crossing her arms. “You’ve worked so hard to get here, and now you’re just going to go back to the same place you’ve been trying to move on from? It doesn’t make any sense.”
Tyson sighed. “It’s not like I’m regressing. I just feel like… I don’t know, like it’s home. It feels right.” “Home can mean a lot of things,” Aunt May replied, her voice softening slightly. “But sometimes, staying in one place holds you back. You need to spread your wings a little, experience new things. That’s why I think you should stay here, in Pennsylvania. There are great schools here, and you’d still be close to us.”
Uncle Ben raised an eyebrow. “May, don’t pressure the kid. He’s gotta make this decision for himself.” “I’m not pressuring him,” Aunt May shot back, giving her husband a pointed look. “I’m giving him advice. It’s what I’m here for. That’s what WE’RE here for.”
Tyson groaned, a little distracted by the conversation. “Guys, I’m right here. You don’t have to argue about me like I’m not in the car.” “Sorry, kiddo,” Uncle Ben said, chuckling. “But May’s got a point. You’re young. This is the time to explore a bit, maybe get out of your comfort zone. Staying in Pennsylvania wouldn’t be the worst idea.”
“I’m not staying here just because it’s convenient,” Tyson said, his frustration starting to show. “It’s not like I’m afraid of tryin’ new things. I just...I feel like I have unfinished business back home.” “Unfinished business?” Aunt May asked, her tone skeptical. “Ty, what kind of unfinished business could you possibly have at eighteen? The world is out there waiting for you, and you’re talking about clinging to the past.” “It’s not clinging,” Tyson argued. “It’s about honoring where I come from. Chestwood’s my roots, you know? And it’s not like I’d be there forever.”
Aunt May sighed, leaning back in her seat. “I know you mean well, Ty. I just don’t want you to limit yourself because you feel tied to a place. You’re capable of so much more than you think.”
Uncle Ben reached over, patting Ty’s shoulder. “Whatever you decide, just make sure it’s for you. Don’t let anyone else tell you what your path should look like, not even us. That's what the principal said, ain’t it?”
Tyson nodded, his jaw tightening as he mulled over their words. The rest of the drive passed in relative silence, the only sounds coming from the soft hum of the engine and the occasional rustle of Aunt May shifting in her seat. As they pulled into the driveway, Tyson turned off the car and sat there for a moment, staring at the steering wheel. “I’ll think about it, okay?” he said finally, glancing back at Aunt May.
She smiled softly. “That’s all I ask.” Uncle Ben opened the car door, stepping out and stretching. “Come on, graduate. Let’s get inside and celebrate a little more. I think there’s still some pie left from yesterday.” Tyson chuckled despite himself, following them into the house. The conversation lingered in his mind, though, the weight of the decision pressing down on him.
Friday - August 18th, 2028 (8:40 PM)
Finally found this thing. Summer’s been fun. I didn’t think I’d say that, me and fun have had situationship going on for a long time. Since all that stuff like… 9 years ago I’m pretty sure. 9 years. It’s brazy how fast time goes, but also how slow it feels when nothing’s the same anymore.
I’ve been tryna let go of that day. Mom wouldn’t want me to dwell on it, I know that for sure. But some things just don’t leave you, ya know? I still hear the echoes of everything that happened, and when I close my eyes, sometimes I see it all over again. It’s like the weight of it never goes away, not fully. But this summer… I don’t know. Something shifted. For the first time, I’ve been able to breathe a litttttle bit easier. Good looks.
Soccer’s been my escape, as always. Practices have been brutal, even after graduating. Coach Davis is the type to make us run drills until our legs feel like jelly, but I’ve been keeping up.
Scored a hat trick in our last game of the summer. The guys went nuts. Reggie called it “legendary,” but you know how he is, he hypes up everything like we’re playing in the World Cup. I love the glaze tho. It's better than back home.
Still, I miss my friends from back home tho. Troy, Leo… especially Gwen. I haven’t seen them in years, not since middle school. Wonder if they ever think about me or if I’m just a memory to them now. Gwen especially. She was the one who always stuck with me, even when I pushed everyone else away. My true day one, we were locked in. Keep telling myself I’ll reach out, but every time I pick up the phone, I stop. What would I even say? “Hey, remember me? The kid who freaked out and ruined our friendship?” No way I’m explaining what happened to em.
Pretty sure they covered it up by saying we moved. All I got is my trophy for that clutch I did way back when. Only people that know what happened are me, my scumbag of a dad, Gwen pop, Uncle Ben and Aunt May. They don’t even know the fully story of what happened to mom either! Said it was some crazy explosion that caused dad to morph.
Yeah, sure.
But things have been better since then. Something just clicked for me. Maybe it was finally getting on the varsity team or the fact that Uncle Ben and Aunt May have been pushing me to think about college.
They’ve been so good to me, better than I probably deserve sometimes. Aunt May still hovers like I’m a kid, but I know she means well.
It’s weird, icl. Even with all the progress I’ve made, there’s still this part of me that feels stuck. Like no matter how far I go, there’s always going to be this invisible tether pulling me back. Back to Chestwood. Back to the accident.
Anyway, this summer’s been a little different. Better, somehow. Maybe I’m finally learning to live again instead of just getting by. It’s a start, I guess. That’s all I can ask for right now, a start.
Tyson stood in the middle of his room, the walls bare now except for a few scuff marks and faded posters. He glanced around at the open suitcase on his bed, one bag already zipped up on the floor, and a duffle lying slumped and empty next to the closet. “Packing was supposed to be easy, right? Just toss some clothes in and call it a day. But I swear it’s like the more I keep diggin’ the more random stuff I find.”
He crouched by the dresser, pulling out random items, a faded Blue Beetle comic book, a stack of old drawings he hadn’t touched in years, and a cracked soccer trophy from middle school. The corner of his mouth twitched into a half-smile as he turned the trophy over in his hands. "Best Midfielder," it read in peeling gold letters. He remembered that game like it was yesterday, the mud, the rain, the fight for every corner of the field. "Man, I was so dramatic," he muttered, setting the trophy aside.
The next drawer down was filled with all the junk he thought he’d thrown out ages ago. A slingshot Reginald had given him as a joke, a broken yo-yo, and a shoebox full of birthday cards from years past. He flipped through a couple, stopping at one with bright orange lettering that read: "You’re Awesome, Nephew!" It was from Aunt May, of course. Inside, she’d written, "Never stop being you, Ty. The world’s better because you’re in it."
Tyson set the card down quickly, he shook his head, mumbling, “Okay, no time for this,” and kept digging. Underneath the shoebox was something soft, a bear plush with one ear missing and fur that had seen better days. Ty froze as soon as he pulled it out. “Bega!”
A wave of memories hit him all at once. His mom’s voice, warm and full of life, telling him bedtime stories. Her laugh when he’d give Bega silly voices. The way she’d always kiss his forehead before saying, “Goodnight, my brave boy.” His chest tightened, and for a second, he thought about leaving the bear behind.
Without letting himself think too much, he tossed Bega into the duffle bag and zipped it shut. “Nah.”
A half-hour later, Tyson stood outside, loading the last of his bags into the car. The late summer air was warm, but there was a cool breeze that reminded him fall wasn’t far off. Aunt May and Uncle Ben stood by the front steps, watching him with bittersweet smiles. “You sure you’ve got everything?” Aunt May asked for the fifth time, wiggling her fingers in her hands.
“Pretty sure,” Tyson said, trying to keep his tone light. Uncle Ben stepped forward, clapping him on the shoulder. “You’re gonna do great, kid. Just remember, stay out of trouble, keep your head on straight, and call us if you need anything.”
Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
“I will.” Aunt May pulled him into a tight hug, and for a moment, neither of them said anything. When she finally let go, her eyes were glossy, but her smile stayed steady. “You’re going to make us proud, Ty. You already have.” Tyson swallowed hard, blinking quickly. “Thanks...for everything. Both of you.” He hugged Uncle Ben next, then stepped back, forcing himself not to look too long at the house or the people he was leaving behind. “Remember.” Uncle Ben says, holding onto his shoulder. “With great power com-” “Yeah great responsibility, I know.”
As he climbed into the driver’s seat and started the engine, he waved one last time before pulling out of the driveway. The radio clicked on, and Tyson scrolled through the stations until he landed on something upbeat, a song he didn’t recognize but felt like exactly what he needed.
As the music played, he glanced in the rearview mirror, catching a glimpse of the house fading into the distance. His chest felt heavy, but there was something else there too, a spark of excitement, maybe even hope.
For the first time in a long time, the road ahead felt like more than just another step forward. It felt like a beginning. The sun had already long set as Tyson cruised down the nearly empty highway, the sky painted pitch black, with white stars glimmering in the sky. His playlist had been on shuffle for hours, the music providing the perfect background noise for the hum of the car’s engine. A 2025 Toyota Camry he got for his birthday 3 years ago. With the windows cracked open, the cool evening breeze ruffled his dreadlocks as he tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, a grin on his face, his mind at peace.
But peace only lasted so long, and the gas gauge on his dashboard had been creeping closer to empty. When the little light blinked on, he sighed, spotting a small, worn-out gas station up ahead. The neon sign buzzed faintly: Stan Lee’sGas and Junk.
Tyson pulled up next to the pump, the car groaning softly as it came to a stop. He stepped out, stretching his legs and cracking his back before grabbing the nozzle. “Guess this is as good a place as any,” he muttered to himself, glancing at the station's cracked windows and rusted sign. After starting the pump, he wandered toward the shop, deciding to grab something to eat. The bell above the door jingled as he stepped inside, and the smell of old wood and motor oil hit his nose.
Behind the counter was an older man with thick glasses and a gray mustache, reading a newspaper that looked almost as ancient as the station itself. He glanced up as Tyson entered, giving him a welcoming nod. “Evenin’, kid,” the man said, folding the paper neatly. “Long drive?”
“Yeah, just heading to school,” Tyson replied with a polite smile. “Thought I’d stock up before I hit the road again. Got any recommendations?”
The old man chuckled, leaning back on his stool. “Well, the jerky’s not half bad, and the cola in the cooler’s still got a good fizz. Everything else is...well, let’s just say it’s seen better days.” Tyson laughed, grabbing a basket and making his way down the aisles. He picked out a couple of bags of chips, a soda, and some chocolate.
As he headed back toward the counter, the bell above the door jingled again, followed by the heavy sound of boots on the floor. Tyson glanced over his shoulder to see three men walk in, all dressed in ragged clothes with their faces hidden with Ski Masks.
“Alright, everybody on the floor!” one of them shouted, pulling a gun from his waistband. Tyson froze, his heart skipping a beat as the other two men fanned out. One had a crowbar slung over his shoulder, while the third carried a duffle bag he began filling with cash and items from the shelves. The old man behind the counter raised his hands slowly, his face calm but wary. “No need for this, boys,” he said evenly. “Take what you need and leave. But there’s a McDonalds down the stee-”
“Shut it, old man!” the guy with the gun barked. He pointed the weapon at the cashier, making Ty’s stomach churn. He quickly crouched down, dropping to his knees like everyone else in the establishment. He could see a mother and her young daughter huddled near the back of the store, trembling. His fists clenched, but he stayed still, his heart pounding in his chest.
One of the thugs with the crowbar laughed as he walked toward the counter. “What’s this place even got? Rusty tools and stale chips? Man, this ain’t even worth it.” “Yeah, but it’s fun, right?” the one with the duffle bag said, grabbing items from the shelves and tossing them carelessly inside. The thug with the crowbar leaned over the counter, poking at the old man. “Hey, Pops. You ever thought about retirement? Looks like you’re past due.” He snickered, flipping over a cup of lolipops and scattering them across the floor.
The old man stayed calm, his eyes fixed on the thug. “Thought about it from time to time. But you’re a thug not a coworker, take the money and go. No one needs to get hurt.” “Oh, we’ll take the money,” the guy with the gun said, walking toward the register. “But we’ll decide who gets hurt.” As he laughed, one of the thugs noticed the mother and her daughter. He walked over, his grin widening. He kneeled, putting his hand on her chin “Hey, lady. Got any cash on ya? Or should we take something else?” The woman clutched her daughter tightly, shaking her head. “Please, just leave us alone.”
Ty’s jaw tightened, his muscles tensing.
The thug with the gun sneered as he looked at the trembling woman, his leering smile enough to make Ty's stomach churn. He lifted the weapon, gesturing toward her with a twisted grin. "How 'bout you and I have a little chat, sweetheart? In the back, without ya’ daughter. Unless you want her to watch." The woman clutched her daughter tighter, shielding her as best as she could. Tears streamed down her face, but she stayed silent, her eyes locked on the thug's every movement.
Tyson felt his body tense, every fiber of his being screaming at him to do something. His uncle's words echoed in his mind.
The leader chuckled, his grin stretching wider. He strolled toward Tyson, the gun in his hand swaying lazily. “You got a death wish, kid?” he asked, tilting his head. Tyson swallowed hard but didn’t back down. His eyes locked onto the thug’s, a spark of defiance lighting in his gaze. “If it means stopping you, then yeah,” he said firmly.
The leader stopped inches away, the cold barrel of the gun pressing against Ty’s forehead. The store went silent, save for the shaky breaths of the other customers huddled on the floor. “You wanna die, tough guy?” the thug asked, his tone low and venomous. Ty’s heart pounded like a drum, but he didn’t flinch. He stared straight into the thug’s eyes, his voice unwavering. “Do it. Pull the trigger.”
The leader froze, his smirk faltering for just a moment. Then he laughed. A low, guttural sound that filled the store. He lowered the gun, shaking his head. “You’ve got guts, kid. I like that.”
Without warning, his fist shot forward, slamming into Ty’s stomach. The impact was like a sledgehammer, knocking the wind out of him and lifting him off his feet. Tyson crashed into the freezer in the back of the store, the glass shattering on impact. Bottles and cans of soda tumbled out, hitting all over him as his body on the ground, coughing and groaning. The leader smirked, shaking out his hand. “But guts don’t mean brains,” he said, turning back to his crew. “Let’s wrap this up. We’ve wasted enough time here.”
Tyson struggled to push himself up, his body aching from the blow. He could barely hear the thug’s words over the pounding in his ears, but his resolve hadn’t wavered. His uncle’s words echoed louder now, fueling the fire inside him.
Ty's body trembled as he leaned against the shattered freezer door, shards of glass digging into his back. His chest heaved with labored breaths, but something deep inside him stirred. A heat. A spark. A feeling he couldn’t explain. His eyes began to glow, as his body stood up on instinct.
The leader laughed, pulling his gun from his waistband again. “Still got some fight left in you, huh? Guess I’ll finish you for real.” As the thug raised his gun, Tyson felt it, a tingling at the base of his skull, like an electric jolt shooting through his nerves. Time seemed to slow down as the thug’s finger touched the trigger. Instinctively, Tyson ducked to the side, the bullet whizzing past his head and embedding itself in the freezer behind him.
“The fuck?!” the thug growled, firing again.
But Tyson moved before the shot rang out, his body reacting faster than his mind could process. Another bullet missed him by inches, shattering a display of chips. The sensation grew stronger, guiding him. He rolled forward, the thug’s third shot ricocheting off the floor where he’d just been.
Adrenaline surged through him as he stood, his movements almost fluid now. The leader’s cocky smirk faltered as Tyson stepped into his space, his fist clenched tight. With a second thought, Tyson drove an uppercut into the thug’s jaw, sending him sprawling onto the floor with a loud grunt. The room fell silent for a beat, the other thugs staring in stunned disbelief.
“Shoot him!” one of them yelled, breaking the silence.
The two closest pulled their guns, but that tingling sense guided Tyson again. He turned, reaching down and snatching the leader’s gun from the floor. Before the thugs could fire, Tyson aimed and shot twice, hitting both in the legs. They crumpled to the ground, howling in pain as they clutched their wounds.
The third thug hesitated, his hands shaking as he pointed his gun at Ty. “You’re dead, kid!” he spat, but his voice wavered. Tyson moved like lightning, dodging the thug’s shot with ease. He dashed forward, slamming the gun from the man’s hand with a quick strike. The weapon clattered to the floor, and Tyson spun around, striking the thug’s arm with the butt of the stolen gun. The man yelped like a scared little girl like the PUSSY he was, clutching his arm as he stumbled backward.
“Get out!” Tyson shouted, his voice fierce and commanding. The remaining thugs didn’t need to be told twice. They scrambled to their feet, abandoning their injured comrades and dropping their stolen goods as they fled the store. One of them shouted over his shoulder, “This ain’t over, freak!”
Tyson didn’t respond, his breathing heavy as he stood amidst the wreckage. The old man at the counter peeked out from behind the register, his eyes wide with a mix of fear and amazement. The woman and her daughter slowly rose from the floor, the woman clutching her child tightly. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice shaky. She ran out, holding her daughter close, and other customers followed.
Tyson sighed, his hands trembling as he realized what he’d just done. The tingling in his head began to subside, but the adrenaline still coursed through him. He glanced down at the unconscious leader at his feet, then at the shattered shelves and spilled merchandise around him.
“I... I didn’t mean to” he stammered, but the words caught in his throat. The old man approached cautiously, placing a hand on Ty’s shoulder. “Son, you just saved all of us. Don’t be too hard on yourself.”
Tyson nodded slowly, though his mind raced with questions.
He shook his head no, his voice low but steady. “Thanks, but I need to keep moving. I’ll be fine.” The old man gave him a long look before nodding. “Alright, but you take care of yourself. Not everyone out there’s as kind as you seem to be.”
He managed a faint smile and thanked him again before heading out. The cool night air hit him as he walked to his car, his legs still a little shaky. Sliding into the driver’s seat, he shut the door and leaned back, staring up at the dark ceiling of the vehicle.
He exhaled sharply, shaking his head to push the thoughts away. “Not now,” he muttered to himself, reaching into his bag for a set of blinds. He clipped them over the windows, blocking out the dim glow of the gas station lights, and reclined his seat as far back as it would go.
From his backpack, he pulled out his laptop and powered it on, the familiar hum bringing a little comfort. Clicking through his saved files, he picked an old comedy series he hadn’t watched in years. As the intro music played, Tyson let out a small chuckle. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to keep his mind from spiraling. He watched for about an hour, his eyes growing heavier with each passing minute until the exhaustion finally overtook him.
Saturday - August 19th, 2028 (5:15 AM)
The next morning, the rising sun poured through the edges of the blinds. Tyson woke up, groaning as he adjusted his seat upright. His back ached from the less-than-comfortable night, but he was used to it by now. “Soccer gets you used to sleeping in weird spots.” After a quick stretch, he grabbed a bottle of water and a granola bar from his bag, scarfing it down as he started the engine. The familiar rumble of the car brought a sense of normalcy, and he pulled out of the gas station lot, merging back onto the highway. “Ight, let’s whip this hoe!” He said, ignoring the stuff from last night completely.
The hours blurred together as he drove, the road felt virtually endless. Occasionally, he’d glance at the GPS, watching as the miles to Pittsburgh PA ticked down. He made quick pit stops for gas and snacks, his mind wandering as the scenery changed from open plains to dense clusters of trees. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the city skyline of Pittsburgh came into view. His heart skipped a beat as he saw it, the familiar landmarks stirring a mix of nostalgia and excitement. Nineteen hours on the road had worn him down, but as he rolled into the city limits, a small smile crept across his face.
“Made it,” he whispered to himself. Tyson parked his car in the designated lot outside the college’s main administrative building. The campus was alive with energy, students hauling suitcases, families saying emotional goodbyes, and orientation volunteers in brightly colored shirts directing traffic. He stepped out, stretching his stiff arms and taking in the atmosphere.
Grabbing his backpack from the passenger seat he locked up the car and made his way to the admissions office. Inside, a cheerful student worker handed him a manila folder with his schedule, a campus map, and most importantly, his room key. “Welcome to Pittsburgh State,” she said with a bright smile. “You’re in Maple Hall, third floor. Need help finding it?”
“I think I got it, thanks,” Tyson replied, tucking the folder under his arm.
He headed back to his car to unload, but as he eyed the three heavy duffel bags, his soccer ball, and a smaller box filled with miscellaneous items, he realized it might take more than one trip. “Hey, need a hand?” Tyson turned to see one of the orientation volunteers, a tall guy with curly hair and glasses, grinning at him.
“Yeah, actually. That’d be great,” Tyson said, handing over one of the bags. The two carried the load across campus to Maple Hall. The building was a modest, brick structure with wide windows and a constant stream of students coming in and out. Inside, the halls smelled faintly of new paint and cleaning supplies. As he made his way there, he could’ve sworm he saw a familiar face. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it however, ignoring his thoughts.
“Room 312,” Tyson muttered, glancing at the label on his key. When they reached the door, he opened it to find the room already half set up. A guy about Ty’s age was sitting cross-legged on one of the beds, unpacking a box of books. He looked up and grinned. “Hey, you must be my roommate! The name’s Asher,” he said, standing and extending a hand. Asher was lanky with a mop of dark hair and an easygoing vibe. He wore casual clothing, seeming to have just got there himself “Tyson Walker,” he replied, shaking his hand. “Most people just call me Ty though, easier on the tongue. Pause.”
Asher laughed, then gestured to the other side of the room. “That bed’s yours. I didn’t take much space in the closet, so help yourself.” Tyson dropped his bags onto the bed and started unpacking. He carefully set his clothes into the drawers and lined up his shoes under the bed. As he put his shoes under his bed, he noticed a busted floorboard. Asher watched with curiosity as Tyson pulled out a well-worn soccer ball and placed it under his desk.
“You play?” Asher asked.
“Yeah, it’s kind of my thing,” Tyson said, giving a small smile.
“Cool. I run track, but I suck at anything involving a ball. Basketball, Tennis, Soccer, can’t do any of that.”
The two continued to chat as Tyson finished unpacking. When he pulled out Bega, the plush bear, Asher raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment. Tyson hesitated for a moment before stuffing it under his bed. Once everything was in place, Asher clapped his hands. “Alright, let me show you around campus. You’ll get lost otherwise. I took a tour during highschool since I don’t live too far from campus.”
They walked through the sprawling campus, Asher pointing out key landmarks. “That’s the student union, it’s got a food court, lounge, and a theater. Over there’s the library, and that building with the weird sculpture in front is the science hall.” Tyson nodded, taking it all in. The campus was bigger than he’d expected, with a mix of old brick buildings and modern glass structures.
They stopped at a large quad where a group of students were playing frisbee. Asher nudged Ty. “See? Instant friends if you’re into that kind of thing.” Tyson crossed his arms, “Hell nah. Anyone playing frisbee after elementary is dangerous.” Asher laughed, as they kept wandering around campus. By the time they returned to their room, it was late afternoon. Tyson flopped onto his bed, feeling a mix of exhaustion and anticipation.
“So, what do you think of the place so far?” Asher asked, leaning against his desk. “It’s cool. Different, but in a good way,” He said. Asher grinned. “You’ll love it here. Just wait until the semester really kicks off.” As the sun set outside their window, Tyson felt a flicker of excitement. This was a fresh start, a chance to build something new.
After talking in the dorm for a bit, Tyson decided to walk through the campus alone. He had his hands in his hoodie pockets as he wandered aimlessly. Asher had gone off to meet up with a friend from the track team, leaving him to explore on his own. He figured he’d get a better sense of the place without someone directing him, but after twenty minutes of walking, he realized he had no idea where he was.
“Okay, not great,” he muttered, glancing at the campus map on his phone. The thing was practically a labyrinth. Every building looked the same in this part of the campus, tall brick structures with ivy crawling up the sides. After another ten minutes of aimless wandering, he stumbled into a clearing that was completely different from the rest of the campus. An open garden sprawled out before him, filled with vibrant flowers, lush greenery, and a stone fountain in the center. It was quiet, with only the sound of water trickling from the fountain and birds chirping in the trees.
Tyson blinked in surprise. “Well, this is... peaceful.” He wandered through the garden, kicking at the gravel path as he went. The place felt like it belonged in a movie, romantic and serene, the kind of spot where people confessed their feelings or proposed under the stars. “A little corny but I like it.” Ty muttered with a small laugh, though he couldn’t deny it was a nice spot.
As he rounded the fountain, he saw someone sitting on a bench under a blooming magnolia tree. For a moment, he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him. Her long blonde hair shimmered in the sunlight, and she had a certain grace as she sat there, reading a book.
Tyson froze in his tracks. He couldn’t believe it. “Gwen?” he whispered under his breath.
It was her. Gwen Stacy. The girl from his childhood, the one who used to follow him to the riverbank when he was upset, the one he hadn’t seen since he moved away nine years ago.
She looked different, older, obviously, but also more confident, like she belonged wherever she was. She was dressed in a simple white blouse, and jeans, her posture relaxed as she flipped a page in her book.
Tyson felt his heart rate spike. Should I say something? Would she even recognize me? Do I look good? God, I’m wearing a hoodie in the SUMMER!!!” His mind raced with memories of the past, her kind words, her smile, the way she’d stood by him when no one else did. Before he could make a decision, Gwen shifted in her seat, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. The movement made her look up, and her eyes briefly met his.
Ty’s heart skipped a beat.
He opened his mouth to say something, but his throat felt dry. Words jumbled in his mind. He took a hesitant step forward, still unsure of how to approach her, and then the moment was shattered.
BOOM!!!
The ground trembled beneath his feet as a distant explosion rocked the air. Tyson stumbled, grabbing onto the edge of the fountain for balance. Birds scattered from the trees, their frantic chirps drowned out by the echoing blast.
“What the hell?” he muttered, looking toward the source of the noise. Gwen had stood up too, her book forgotten on the bench. Everyone in the garden looked at the brick wall, staring in the same direction, her expression a mix of confusion and concern.
They both looked in horror, as a man in a big buff rhino suit, and a black man wearing a purple jacket with no shirt on, glasses, and long jeans entered the campus.
“Let’s get MESSY!” He said, staring at the students.
