SILENT CONNECTION

“You’re late,” Garp said, his voice carrying that mix of amusement and mock authority that only he could pull off.

I rolled my eyes. “You ditched class halfway through,” I shot back. “Not exactly the best person to preach about showing up on time.”

From behind me, the orange-haired boy snickered, but the sound cut off fast when Garp turned to give him a mock glare. The boy quickly busied himself at the counter, stirring something in a bowl with exaggerated focus.

It was all so Garp like. Chaos, and an unshakable confidence that made you want to punch him and laugh at the same time.

Wait. Didn’t he say he wanted to meet me alone? Curse him and his goldfish memory. “So,” I asked, crossing my arms, “why’d you drag me here?”

Garp flashed a genuine smile—well, as genuine as it could look on his barbaric face. Honestly, it resembled an evil smirk more than anything. From a suspiciously retro-looking microwave, he retrieved… pancakes? He walked toward me, the smell of something vaguely bread-like wafting through the air.

“Behold! For the first time in my illustrious life, I have created a bakery item! I present to you, freshly baked pancakes by yours truly!” He puffed out his chest like he’d just won a Nobel Prize.

“Wow. So cool,” I deadpanned, clapping slowly with a face devoid of enthusiasm. “And what does this have to do with me?”

“Nothing much,” he replied with a grin that screamed up to no good. “I was simply looking for a guinea pig—uh, I mean, a loving and caring friend to try my pancakes and provide an honest review.”

“You’re not even pretending to hide it,” I said, shaking my head. “Why don’t you try them? Or maybe let Orange Hair Nobody over there do it?”

“You’re not even pretending to hide it!” the boy yelped from the counter, sounding both offended and desperate for validation.

“We already did,” Garp shrugged. “But since we made them, we’re biased. We need an outsider’s opinion.”

“As if I’d ever eat something as primitive as—” My words screeched to a halt as Garp shoved a slice of pancake directly into my mouth. My brain short-circuited. My heart went doki-doki. Did I just eat something from his hand?! That was way too much for my fragile nerves.

I chewed nervously. Then it hit me. It was so bitter. Not just bitter, but offensively metallic, like someone had spiked it with a rusty nail. “Ew, what the heck is this?!” I screamed, spitting it out and swatting at my tongue like it’d been assaulted.

Garp collapsed to the floor, howling with laughter. And the orange-haired boy was desperately trying to stifle his giggles behind his hand but was failing miserably.

“You fell for it!” Garp wheezed, tears streaming down his face as he rolled on the ground.

“Sorry,” Vir mumbled, looking half-apologetic and half-terrified. “We were experimenting with synthetic flour and sugar, but the compounds reacted weirdly. Instead of being sweet, they left a metallic aftertaste. And my name’s Vir, by the way—”

“Don’t care,” I cut him off, still glaring daggers at Garp.

“Geez, cold,” Garp chuckled, rubbing his head. “But seriously, that was hilarious.”

“You dragged me here just to prank me and then laugh your ass off?” I pouted, then promptly smacked him on the head. “Hmph!”

Garp finally wiped the tears from his eyes, still chuckling as he sat up. "Okay, okay, you win. I admit defeat.”

"Yeah, sure," I huffed, arms crossed like a defensive shield. "I’ll need a full apology, typed, notarized, and signed in bio-ink, preferably with a DNA stamp for authenticity."

“Alright, let me make it up to you.” From behind the retro microwave, he pulled out another plate. This one wasn’t suspiciously lumpy or vaguely pancake-shaped. It was neatly arranged, holding a row of glossy, what seemed to be chocolate-dipped cookies.

"Go on," Vir piped up, his voice was overly enthusiastic. "This was perfectly experimented—uh, I mean cooked. Totally safe!"

I hesitated. Real food, let alone chocolate, wasn’t exactly a regular part of my life. Sure, I loved chocolates, but my experiences had been limited to taste-sim chips. There was no way I would ever something as primitive as eating something to taste it. But as I stared at the cookies, the longing to taste actual chocolate overwhelmed me. Before I knew it, my hand instinctively grabbed one, and I popped it into my mouth.

The cookie melted in my mouth, rich and chocolatey, with just the right amount of sweetness. It was warm, soft, and somehow comforting, like a hug in dessert form.

Later, I returned home and fell back into my usual routine. After finishing everything I needed to do, I sat on my bed with my three-year-old brother, Josuke, and turned on a holographic 3D comic to relax.

While I tried reading the 3D comic, my brother stared at me. His name was Josuke. To be honest, my parents and I are kind of worried about him.

As I tried reading, Josuke stared at me silently. My parents and I were a little worried about him. All babies underwent neural surgery within their first year. It helped to arrange their brains for various chip insertion in the future like dat-sim chip, skill-sim chip, etc, and also thoughtwave installation, which would allow them to communicate telepathically when they grew older. As a result, most kids started speaking around two years old, but Josuke had turned three a couple of weeks ago. And he still hadn’t said a single word.

The doctors explained it might be a side effect of the surgery. "His brain may be prioritizing telepathic adaptation," they’d explained, as if that was supposed to make us worry less. Apparently, instead of learning speech, his brain was rewiring itself for thoughtwave communication, something that didn’t usually kick in until kids were six or seven. If the doctors were right, Josuke might beat the timeline and start thoughtwaving early.

I patted his head and tried to focus on my comic, but my mind kept drifting back to Vir and his cookies. They weren’t perfect, but I could feel the effort he’d poured into them. Somehow, knowing they were made by the boy I liked made them taste even better.

I still had the group photo he took back in middle school stored in my neuro drive. With a flick, I projected it onto the hologram. Garp’s face filled the screen, his messy hair and scary smirk was too endearing for me to handle. Before I could stop myself, I leaned in and planted a soft kiss on the untouchable projection. Yes, I kissed a projection. Don’t judge me.

“Simp. Just how desperate are you?”

A voice echoed in my mind. It was young and teasing. I whipped my head around to see Josuke grinning smugly.

“No… it couldn’t be…” I whispered. My heart was racing.

I groaned, burying my face in my hands. "Seriously?"

But despite my embarrassment, I couldn’t help but smile. I hugged him tightly, my heart swelling with pride. My brother just telepathically communicated to me at just three years of age.

"Mom! Dad! Josuke just used thoughtwave!" I called out, ready to celebrate this hilarious, slightly mortifying milestone.

CHAPTER 8 END