His Name Is...

Tick. Tick. The countdown timer ticked away the seconds before—

Ring!

A hand reached out to shut off the alarm. He groaned, barely able to lift his eyelids. Grasping his phone, he turned it on—only to wince at the agony of the blinding light searing into his eyeballs. Damn it. He had left the brightness level still set to max. Squinting, he laid it down and looked at the time.

Three hours until his flight.

With a tired yawn, he dragged himself out of bed, mussing up his already unruly hair. He had stayed up late last night, but that wasn't going to stop him from going through his routine.

He walked over to the room and stopped in front of the calendar hanging on his door. Digging into his pocket, he took out a red marker—he always had one with him.

With a satisfied smile, he crossed out today's date in a large red X.

"One week, huh?" He muttered. "Plenty of time."

Putting the red marker back in place, he headed downstairs. He did not like the way the first rays of sunlight streamed in through the penthouse windows. Early morning light always appeared harsh to him. He preferred the dark, with no more than a single warm orange bulb casting a soft, dim light.

He could hear his parents within, busy doing their chores, too engrossed in their activities to wake him. But then again, they were well aware of how automated he was with his routine.

His father was on the phone, and so was his mother, while his other younger brothers were at the breakfast table, their voices filling the air as they prepared for school.

His mother sharply spun around, and her eyes landed on him.

"Ah, morning," she smiled. "Hurry up and eat. You'll be late for your siblings' bus. And get ready yourself."

She glanced at the watch on her wrist.

"Hmm… three hours. Hurry!"

Three hours is plenty of time, or so he thought. But to his family, every second was precious. Time wasn't a passing thing—it was something to be cherished. The theory of time dilation, a principle illustrated by Einstein's theory of relativity, made even tiny amounts of time feel substantial. To them, three hours was like seconds in the grand scheme of their closely controlled lives. Time might creep or fly by based on how one looked at it—was it a meaningful day, or a never-ending list of tasks, all whizzing by in a flash?

So, while three hours was a leisurely block, to his parents it was merely time that could never be wasted. And in their world, to waste time was to lose something infinitely more valuable than a few minutes: momentum, concentration, and control.

He rolls his eyes as he gets seated at the table. Breakfast was always prepared beforehand. Nuts for protein and healthy fats for energy and brain function. Berries for antioxidants to ensure cognitive health and foster the development of brain cells. A cup of herbal tea to relax and ensure easy digestion. Milk and cereal, a good combination for the balanced consumption of vitamins, minerals, and fiber, providing him with an immediate energy boost for the day.

He muttered under his breath.

"Fine, fine, jeez."

He shoved the entire slice of bread into his mouth and then stood up, already feeling the stress of the day settle on him.

"Less gawh," he muttered, his voice barely intelligible through the bread as he hurried over to the elevator. His siblings were already there, chatting and laughing, not knowing that he was running on autopilot barely.

The elevator doors opened, and they all stepped in. When it began its descent, the familiar lurch of the building machinery humming underneath them, it came to an unexpected stop with a ding.

The elevator doors opened again to reveal his downstairs neighbor. Of course, they would be getting on at the same time.

The moment they stepped in, the air in the small, closed space appeared to shrink. It was thicker somehow—like it wasn't air he was breathing but the endless chatter and presence of someone who had no place in his world. He could feel his chest tighten as the neighbor's cheerful, forced informality began to fill the space between them. He hated it.

As an introvert, he hated these instances of small talk. He didn't know why, but the thought of engaging in pleasantries with someone so. common, so stupid, made him want to crawl out of his skin. In his mind, talking to them would lower his superior brain cells. It was what he felt whenever someone tried to engage in frivolous conversation—it wasn't just irritating; it was as if his intellectual superiority was being challenged.

The neighbor, whose name he could never remember, did not hold back. Of course, they made a beeline for his younger siblings, the most vulnerable to their senseless chatter. Why not? His siblings were just as clueless as the neighbor, and they reveled in the attention, babbling happily away as though they made sense to one another.

"Morning!" sang the neighbor, flashing a broad, annoying smile that made his skin crawl. "You all headed off to school today?"

The younger ones bobbed their heads eagerly, laughing and dancing around, asking the neighbor inane questions in a flurry. They were too young to comprehend how empty the exchange was. They were too young to notice the empty words bouncing off one another like air molecules in space.

To him, however, it was as if the noise was strangling him, each syllable vibrating like a continuous thrum in his ears. They were so. stupid. Could they not realize how irrelevant all of this was? The booming, jovial laughter of the neighbor was an incursion into his carefully crafted isolation.

He forced himself to watch the elevator lights, counting the floors as they passed, as if by doing so he would have something concrete to hold onto.

By the time they reached the ground floor, he felt like his brain was fried. The doors opened, and his siblings spilled out with their usual energy, not even noticing the way he stiffly trailed behind them, desperate to escape the suffocating energy of the meeting.

The bus stop was just a few feet away, and the rumble of the stationary bus mingled with the gentle hum of pre-dawn activity. His siblings, as rowdy and unstructured as they were ever likely to be, ran headlong, their cries echoing off the concrete. He stood there for a moment, watching them, as if trying to freeze the ephemeral instant of peace before the usual chaos of their energy.

The street sounds intermingled with their laughter, their chatty talk filling up the morning fresh air. He could almost feel it—his goodbye moments with them before his journey to the US. The weight of parting gradually came to rest with him, however, not knowing how he was to endure it. Part of him had longed for this farewell to be just another regular, normal thing, just something else.

But it wasn't.

His little brother, the mischievous one, caught his eye with a tug on his sleeve.

"Big brother, bend down. We want to tell you something," they whispered, their tone playful but charged with an odd tenderness that he was not used to.

He complied, leaning a bit, trying to imagine what they could possibly have to say that it would have to be so clandestine. His siblings had always been off-kilter, and while they were often loud and nagging, there was a childlike quality to their behavior that made him feel. something. Something too complicated for him to fully understand, much less articulate.

But the moment he stooped down, they instinctively buried their faces in him, their little soft mouths making contact with his cheeks in an unexpected kiss.

It was brief, almost too quick to see, but the warmth of it lingered, catching him off guard. He froze there, locked in shock, completely surprised. His siblings took a step back with big, wicked grins on their faces, giggling like they'd just pulled off some great joke.

He blinked in surprise. Never in his life had he imagined that his twins—his noisy, annoying, crazy twins—would kiss him goodbye. But that is what they did. An action of sweetness, of warmth, of something that communicated so much more than words ever could. It was an action of vulnerability they shared with him, unexpected and soft, without all the chaos and din that otherwise made up their relationships.

For one fleeting moment, he felt a pang in his chest, the defensive shell of indifference chipped by just a little bit. He was willing to shed it, to be himself again, but couldn't. Not today. Not with the honesty in their eyes. The bitter reality of missing them, of being miles away, felt so much more tangible.

"Watch out, big brother," the twin sister whispered softly, still grinning, but the undertone in their voice was something more real this time.

"Don't forget to call," the twin brother added, teasing but somehow genuine.

With that, they jumped off, excitedly scrambling aboard the bus and sitting down, the doors closing quietly behind them with a hiss. He stood by the window and watched them as the bus pulled away, with a strange heat in his chest, as though that brief unplanned encounter had taken something from him—something he couldn't quite put his finger on.

He stood there a little longer than he had to, eyes following the bus as it disappeared into traffic, before at last turning back towards the penthouse.

The walk back felt slower than it had before. The cold morning air had somehow picked up a little bit of an edge, and the city noises seemed to grow louder, more intrusive. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was changed, and he wasn't sure if it was due to the kiss, or due to the scope of what was going to be set loose. He didn't know how to grapple with the emotions building inside of him. He wasn't ever one for wearing his heart on his sleeve, and absolutely not in front of his relatives. But that kiss. it had struck him more forcefully than he expected.

When he did return to the penthouse, he carried a lightness within him, a surprise bubble of emotion. It was fleeting, like the dissipating warmth of the kiss on his cheeks, but it made his strides lighter somehow. Maybe it was just the flight nerves in advance or maybe it was the atypical show of affection from his siblings, but something was different.

He shook it off as he retreated into the cold, almost sterile atmosphere of the penthouse. He had to focus. He couldn't be distracted—not when there was so much still to prepare.

The elevator doors slid open, and he stepped in, the soft hum of the elevator the only sound as it descended to their floor.

As the elevator doors opened with a soft chime, he stepped onto his floor and rushed down the hallway to his room. The penthouse seemed so much bigger when empty, an empty shell of cold marble and glass, echoing with the silence he had been seeking to flee.

He lingered just outside his bedroom, his hand on the doorknob, and let out a slow breath. His parents were already in the process of making arrangements for him to go, but he couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. They were always so proper, so busy. But today, there was a quiet, unspoken understanding between them, something he was not used to.

As he entered and opened the door, he discovered them sitting in the living room, waiting for him. His father stood by the window with his back to him, his arms crossed as he looked out over the city. His mother sat on the couch, sitting straight and upright, but there was a softness in her eyes that he had never seen before.

Without a word, his mother stood and walked toward him. Her hands, as always, were steady as they rested on his shoulders, her gaze focused on him with a strange intensity.

“You’ve grown,” she said, her voice soft but filled with pride.

He blinked, caught off guard by the weight of her words. The simple observation seemed to carry more meaning than it ever had before.

Without thinking, he hugged her. The hug was momentary, but it was solid, something to ground him in the present. His mother's arms on his back, her body a solid weight in his arms. For a moment, he found himself release into the heat of the hug, something in him yearning for the solace of her touch, even if it was sporadic.

His father spun and, for the first time in years, walked toward him with an almost reluctant smile. "Take care," he said, his voice softer than ever.

He opened his arms, holding his father too. It felt awkward at first, both of them not used to such public displays of emotion, but eventually his father's arms wrapped around him, and the hug seemed more natural.

In that instant, everything he'd been trying to leave behind—the tension, the alienation, the chill of their family dynamic—somehow receded, at least momentarily.

His father backed off first, his gaze locking with his in a wordless understanding. "You know where we are. Don't be a stranger."

He swallowed hard around the ball of emotion in his throat.

"I won't," he whispered.

It was not much. There were no dramatic hand waves, no tears and farewells. But for the first time ever, it seemed as if something had really changed. There was no longer that silent barrier between them, no longer that cool distance that had always existed in their interactions.

As he turned back into his room to complete the packing, he felt the pressure of their support, unspoken and silent, bearing down on his shoulders. And for the first time, he was not certain whether he was prepared to depart.

But he did not have an option. The world awaited him, and the time had come to confront it.

With one final glance around his room, he sighed and grabbed his suitcase. This was it—everything was packed, everything was set. He rolled the luggage toward the door, but before he could take another step, his father effortlessly took it from his grip.

“I’ll handle this,”  his father said, his voice firm but not unkind.

He hesitated for a moment, then let go. His father never asked, and it was no use arguing. Besides, the gesture, as small as it was, felt… strangely warm.

His mother, meanwhile, got the car keys from the counter, twirling them once around her fingers before glancing at him. "Let's go," she said, smiling slightly, which was unusual.

The three of them stepped out of the penthouse together, the gentle click of the door behind them shutting out the life he was leaving behind. They strolled down the hall, the chilly, spotless floors of the building gleaming under the soft morning light that filtered through the tall windows.

His father went first, his usual calm face, suitcase in hand, and his mother followed beside him, keys quietly jingling in her hand. It was all so final, a slow march to something inevitable.

They reached the elevator, and as the doors slid open, he stepped in first, followed by his mother, then his father. The gentle hum of the downward motion filled the small space. Nobody spoke. There was nothing else to say—at least not for now.

As the doors slid open on the ground floor, they were greeted by the air-conditioned lobby coolness. They passed through the main entrance, the automatic doors gliding smoothly open as they made their way towards the private car park. The soft tinkle of their footsteps on the ground was the only sound, barring the muted hum of city life in the distance.

His mother jammed the keys of the car, and their sleek black sedan softly beeped as it unlocked. His father slammed the suitcase into the trunk with a flourish, shutting it with a slam before rounding the passenger door.

His mother slipped into the driver's seat, and he got in back. As the engine roared to life, he gazed out the window and watched as the tall buildings blurred past them.

But then, as though the universe held a personal vendetta against him, the car slowed… then stopped.

His mother let out a sigh. His father rubbed his temple. And in front of them—a sea of motionless cars, honking horns, yelling drivers.

A traffic jam.

“Of course,”  he muttered under his breath, shifting in his seat. The minutes stretched on, and frustration started creeping in. The airport wasn’t that far, but at this rate, it might as well have been across the country.

His patience wore thin.

“You know what?”  he huffed, unbuckling his seatbelt. “I’ll just walk. It’s faster.”

He reached for the door handle, fully prepared to storm out and make his way on foot—

And at that exact instant, as if taunting him, the traffic began to move.

Easily. Naturally. As if there had never been a jam in the first place.

He was stuck in motion, his hand still on the door handle, taking in the awkwardness of it all.

His mother glanced at him in the rearview mirror, a glimmer of amusement in her eyes. His father exhaled the slightest breath—a barely chuckle, though he'd never admit it.

He reluctantly pulled his hand back, slumping into his seat, feeling an absolute idiot.

"Never mind," he muttered, looking out the window, pretending that humiliating experience had never taken place.

The rest of the ride was quiet, but his father's subtle glance in his direction and his mother's small knowing smile told him they would not be forgetting this for a very long time to come.

The quiet rumble of the car continued for a while, its rhythmic throb equal to the chaotic thoughts whirling in his mind. The silence was not to last, however. His mother, who had been driving with intense concentration, broke it at last with a soft, questioning tone.

"Hallam's family immigrated to the US years ago, didn't they?" she asked, glancing at him for a moment.

He nodded, his fingertips tapping lightly on the armrest as the name let loose a flood of memories. Hallam Wilford. His best friend. They'd been two peas in a pod at school. Both smart, but in very different ways. Hallam was a genius at biology, always fascinated by how living organisms worked, while he was fascinated by the intricacies of chemistry—the science of everything in between. They were their own little universe then, living in their own worlds, fighting each other and pushing the boundaries of their own understanding.

"Is he coming to pick you up?" his mother asked again, her voice laced with concern.

"Yeah," he replied, his tone softening slightly at the mention of Hallam. "Hallam said he's coming to pick me up."

His father, who had been silent until now, chuckled softly. "Hard to believe you stayed in contact with him. how long has it been?"

His mother relaxed a little, a smile flickering at the edge of her mouth. "I think it's been seven years now."

Seven years. He never really thought about it, but the years had gone by so fast. It felt only yesterday that they were in the same school, bouncing ideas off one another, their friendship flowering in that small, competitive, but supportive manner. Life, nonetheless, had set them asunder, and Hallam had emigrated to the States, while he was left here, mired in the tedium of routine. Despite the miles between them, somehow they had kept their connection alive, through midnight phone calls, long messages, and rare visits.

His parents prattled on and on, reminiscing about the past and interjecting pieces of advice now and then. All a confusing jumble of sound as he let the moment wash over him, absorbing their concern without defense. His dad talked about work, as per usual, and how he should approach life in the academics and how to spend his time to the fullest in the US. His mom was a bit more personal and emotional, reminding him to take care of himself, not work too hard, and that he had family back home who cared about him.

The journey had been shorter than it had any business being, unreal. He hadn't even realized it until they were near the airport, but for once, he hadn't been worrying about the future or the weight of the move. Instead, he'd let himself simply be present, letting the endless stream of chatter between his parents be a comforting background buzz. It had been. nice.

As the vehicle pulled into the airport parking lot, his mother released a small sigh, relief and sorrow blended. She pulled into the reserved parking space, and the vehicle came to a smooth stop.

"Here we are," his father said, looking at him. "Take care of yourself. And if you need anything, don't hesitate to call us."

His mother turned in her seat, her eyes soft but tinged with the sadness of a mother sending her child off into the world. “Remember to eat well, don’t forget to sleep, and don’t let your studies consume you. You’ve got a whole world out there, but don’t forget to take a step back every once in a while.”

He smiled faintly, happier with their words than he let them know. He'd never say it, but their advice always seemed to stay with him. They didn't need to speak much for him to realize they were watching over him.

His father put a handout, resting a solid grip on his shoulder. "And when you're all squared away, we want to hear from you. Don't keep us waiting."

He nodded, weighed down by their love and saddled with their expectations. He did not wish to disappoint them.

"Of course," he whispered, turning to grab his bag.

His mother, as he grasped the handle of his suitcase, leaned forward and hugged him tight. "Be safe, and don't forget to have fun," she whispered in his ear.

The hug was brief, but it was long enough to bring back the memory of home's warmth and comfort. For a moment, he was a child again, ready to face the unknown but with his parents by his side.

Getting out of the car, his father handed him the suitcase with a firm smile, a quiet pride in his eyes.

"Go on, start your journey," his father urged, nudging him toward the door.

The tower of the airport loomed in front of him, crowded with people, and he knew he couldn't go back now. He was leaving it all behind for something unknown, yet somehow it seemed the thing to do. He looked back once more at his parents, their faces a blur of hope and despair. And when the doors of the terminal opened before him, he knew this was just the beginning of something new.

He nodded once more. "Yeah."

He massaged his eyes gradually, his brain slightly befuddled from sleeping through the entire trip. His body ached from the slouching sleeping posture, but at least he wasn't completely fatigued.

As he departs the airplane, the urgent hustle of Los Angeles International Airport (LAX) surrounds him. The atmosphere thrusts his nose with the aroma of a mix of seacoast wind and urban cacophony, in stark difference from England's cool, frigid air. Activity abounds at the terminal — travelers streaming through the cavernous, vaulted hallways, lugging massive bags, pulling suitcases along behind them, or yapping on phones with garrulous enthusiasm. Harsh, direct sunlight flows in through the windows, the golden glow overspreading the tableau, California's sky lingering a moment just above the airport.

The walls of LAX are covered in modern art and large, flat signs leading passengers. The typical hum of voices, announcements, and rattling of baggage carts is audible. The structures are spacious and well-lit, with vaulted ceilings and bright lights, so everything appears open and inviting. His journey isn't over yet; next up is the long drive to San Francisco. 5 hours and 45 minutes.

He makes his way down the aisle, his footsteps softly clinking against the slippery tile floor as he walks through rows of standing passengers. The throb of his bag rolling along beside him is lost in the overall hum of activity. He's got his small carry-on with him, but his other bags are still waiting at baggage claim, a reminder that he's not quite done with the process yet.

His mind is filled with pictures of his closest friend. Seven years—seven years since they had seen each other last. Would they still be the same? Would friendship hold its place? Nerves are mingled with anticipation as he makes a move for the baggage claim section.

As he steps into the arrivals hall, he glances at the throng of people. There are individuals greeting loved ones with cheerful hugs and warm greetings. The scene seems to be from a dream. But then, his eyes fall on one face among the multitude of faces. His friend. Hallam Wilford.

Hallam waiting for him with a sign reading, "Seven years, bestie❤." His heart skips a beat as he walks towards him, the years of separation long between them now finally over.

"Hallam!"  he exclaims, his voice filled with excitement as he runs to his best friend.

Hallam lifts his eyes, and a large grin spreads wide across his face. He releases the sign and sort of bounds forward to offer him a mighty hug. "You're really here, all this time afterward!" Hallam chuckles, thumping him on the back. "Seven years, dude! Can you believe it?"

He smiles too, the tension he had been carrying all through the flight dissipating. "I know, it's insane," he says, moving back a little to take in the view of Hallam. They had both changed, yet the familiarity was still present—those same eyes, that same relaxed smile, the warmth that made him feel like he was home.

"You don't look any different," Hallam says, stepping back, his eyes raking over his friend with tenderness.

"You're saying that because you don't appear to be any different," he teases, grinning.

Hallam chuckles, brushing his hair back out of his face. "Let's get your bags, then I'll drive you off to your new life in California."

As they walk towards the baggage claim, they speak of nothing and everything, the words spilling out. Finally, the bags appear, and he retrieves his suitcase. Hallam, already in the lead, gestures for him to follow him toward the door.

"So, when we get to Sitford, you're rooming with me in my dorm. It's a suite. There's me, those two, and now you, which makes four," Hallam says, his voice easy, but there's something underlying it. "I'm sure you'll get along with your new roommates. They're not bad, and they fit into our standard—meaning, they're smart too."

He smiles, agreeing. "Sure, if you say so."

"They're not in the dorms presently, anyway," continues Hallam, glancing up. "They said they'd be out when you arrived, so you'll probably get to see them later."

"Good enough," he says, nodding in agreement. "I don't have a problem with that. I just want to get under way."

"Good," Hallam responds, looking relieved. "They're actually really cool, but they have their own thing, you know? You'll be just fine with us. We're all on the same wavelength—good grades, some nerding out, and tons of food."

"That doesn't sound so bad at all," he laughs. "I'm not exactly a stranger to that lifestyle."

Hallam grins at him. "I recall those late-night study sessions back in the good old days. You were always the guy who survived on little sleep, just as I was."

He chuckles, massaging his temples. "Yeah, well, let's see how long I stay here. Sleep deprivation might work on me in a different nation."

"Don't worry," Hallam tells him, "We'll get you sorted. You'll be so busy, you won't even notice you're awake."

They reach the parking lot, and Hallam opens the trunk of his mother's sedan. The sleek sedan shines in the Californian sun, a trace of dust from the road clinging to the surface. Hallam opens the trunk and lifts his friend's suitcase into it, his well-developed arms swinging the weight into place with ease.

"I'm driving today," Hallam announces, sliding behind the wheel. "Mom's busy, but she said I could use the car for a while. And even if she weren't busy, there's no way she'd drive nearly six hours to L.A. just because someone had their seat overbooked."

His friend gives him a skeptical look and scrunches up his face. "Yeah, yeah. So, you finally got your license, huh?".

Hallam grins as he revs the engine. "Of course. I wasn't about to spend my whole life being driven."

The car hums as they leave the airport, the sun-drenched afternoon throwing long shadows on the roads. Traffic is what it always is in Los Angeles, heavy and crazy as they go to San Francisco, but Hallam is not fazed by it. "So," he glances over with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, "you know what to look out for at Sitford, huh? Or do you require a refresher course?"

He chuckles, leaning back in his seat, unwinding to the roar of the car. "I'll be fine. But I'm sure you're going to be the one to help me with whatever I need, huh?" He raises an eyebrow, teasing.

"Obviously," says Hallam, grinning. "You're married to me for the next four years, bestie. We'll be like glue."

They travel in comfortable quiet for a moment or two, the steady purr of the car and the occasional toot of horns out on the road filling the silence between them. There is a hint of saltwater from the ocean and the familiar mix of exhaust and street food from Los Angeles itself to the air as they pass by.

Then Hallam breaks the silence once more. "By the way, I know you said you were cool with the dorm configuration, but I'm gonna warn you—my roommates are decent enough, but they're odd. You're gonna have to get used to them."

He laughs, shaking his head. "I've roomed with odd before. If it's the same level as you, I'll be fine."

Hallam playfully smacks him on the arm. "Hey, I'm not weird! I'm just… unique."

"Oh, yeah," he grins. "Let's see how unique things are when we get to Sitford."

There is a bit of give-and-take, then Hallam glances at the dashboard. "So, we should get there in about an hour or so. You okay?"

"Yeah, I’m good," he replies, his heart swelling with excitement. The city outside the window is full of life—palm trees lining the streets, the occasional surfboard visible in the back of a car, the energy of California itself. It feels surreal, like he’s stepping into a new world.

As he navigates through the busy Los Angeles streets to San Francisco, he lets himself relax, realizing that the second chapter of his life was set to start. And for the first time in a long while, he knows he's exactly where he should be.

The drive to Sitford is smooth, the steady hum of Hallam's car a comforting background to their conversation. The busy city streets of Los Angeles yield gradually to the distance, yielding to miles of freeway and California's rolling hills. Entering the Bay Area, the lights of San Francisco's skyscraper skyline start to become visible in the distance, sparkling against the dusk-hued sky. The city's busy streets finally yield to the quieter, suburban roads that lead towards the high-status campus. Sitford University—a ivy-covered haven nestled in the center of Silicon Valley—lies out before him like a sprawling fortress of knowledge, dotted with sleek, new buildings that make up the elite university. It's everything he ever dreamed and then some.

Hallam pulls into the car park, his eyes scouring the vicinity as he maneuvers the car into one of the reserved car parks. He switches off the engine and looks at his friend. "Here we are. Sitford University—your new home for the next few years," he comments, offering a smile that hardly hides his pride.

"Wow," he remarks, taking in the surroundings. The campus, with its gothic architecture, feels like a dream. The sun is setting as well, and everything is aglow with the warm golden light on the enormous green lawns, and one can feel the vibe of the campus even in the parking lot. The air is crisp and earthy, with a combination of the scent of the late evening breeze. It's such a contrast to the busy city streets they'd just left, and yet he has the sense he's about to get caught up in another whirlwind.

Hallam exits the car, and he does likewise, retrieving his suitcase from the trunk as Hallam takes the lead. As they walk toward the dorms, he can already tell Hallam is going to give him the tour.

"So, quick rundown," Hallam says, leading him up the stone steps of the building. "The dorm’s set up a little differently than usual. Three of us are in it, but it's oddly organized, right? You’ll see."

When they step inside, the dorm has a spacious, almost sterile look to it. Everything is neat and tucked away in a way that feels too organized for college students. It has a lived-in feel, yet the layout is orderly—bookshelves stacked symmetrically against the walls, bed sheets all matching, even the desks set up with a strange precision. A tidy little stack of books sits beside each desk, as though each roommate knew exactly what she was doing when she designed her room.

"This is how we roll around here,"  Hallam shrugs, glancing around. "I mean, we get a little messy sometimes, but we keep it tight. I think you'll fit in fine." He nods toward one of the beds. "You're on the far side by the window. Fresh air and everything. Mei and Arjun are a bit. different, but trust me, you'll get used to them."

He walks over to the desk, unpacking his things with a weak smile. "I'm sure they're okay."

Hallam smiles and heads for the door. "I'll let you settle in, but meanwhile, I'm going to show you around Sitford. The campus, where you'll have to go, and where the good places to eat are. You'll be needing them."

They step out of the dorm, and Hallam leads the way across the sprawling campus. The buildings are a mix of old Gothic grace and contemporary sleekness, their glass windows reflecting the fading light of day. Hallam's steps are confident and direct as he makes his way across the campus with habitual familiarity, as if he's been here all his life, but he hasn't. He waves at a couple of students they pass by, whose faces light up as they see him, a testament to just how integrated into Sitford's social life Hallam has become.

"Over here," Hallam says, waving towards a group of massive white structures, their columns and style resembling a traditional Roman forum. "This is the central academic hub. Where all the big lectures are held. You'll get lost at first, probably, but there's nothing you can't find with a little map and a few wrong turns." He provides a playful smile.

They continue walking, taking strolls along campus pathways. Hallam points out various cafes, a few secret spots known only to the seniors, and, of course, the library—a behemoth of glass and steel, the heartbeat of Sitford's research-driven curriculum.

"This is it," Hallam says with a wide gesture of his arm, encompassing the entirety of the campus, lit up under the evening sky. "Sitford's where it all happens. The cream of the cream. The geniuses. And, well, now. you."

His voice has a hint of pride in it, and it warms his chest. He's starting to believe that this could be achievable, that he's not just some freshman trying to find a spot for himself in a foreign world. Hallam's instruction and confidence are making it easier to imagine himself here—growing, evolving, and thriving in this new world.

After a brief stop at a cafe to grab a quick bite, Hallam looks over at his watch. “Alright, time to head out. I’ve got a surprise planned for tonight.”

That night around 10:30pm, after a brief snooze and some small adjustments to his new dorm room, Hallam brings him out, saying it's all part of the "celebration." He ushers him into a gleaming black vehicle outside, far more upscale than anything Hallam's acquaintances have ever seen him drive. Hallam must have gotten this from one of his wealthy relatives—more likely his mother's side. Hallam doesn't even seem to realize the wealth that surrounds him.

"Wait and see," Hallam says with a knowing smile navigating the city streets. "We're somewhere special tonight."

"Where's that?" he inquires, eager to know.

"You'll see." Hallam keeps his gaze on the road ahead, but there is a little mystery about him now. Evidently, he enjoys this moment, sensing something his friend does not.

The car drives past a massive skyscraper in the middle of the city. The gleaming building reaches upward into the night sky, its lights radiating back at the scope of the city. The doorman steps out and holds the door for them, and Hallam ushers him inside. The lobby is stunning, with highly polished marble floors and tall ceilings, a chandelier suspended above them reflecting the light in dramatic fashion.

"Here… it's exclusive," Hallam whispers. "I don't visit here so often, but it's nice for a party, isn't it?"

As they take the elevator to the top, city lights below twinkle like a starry ocean. The elevator doors open into a large buffet restaurant on the top, with a sumptuous setting offering a breathtaking sight of the entire city. It's 11 something pm yet the city is still thriving. The hallway is filled with long tables loaded with a variety of delicacies—seaweed, roasted meats, foreign fruits, and rows and rows of pastries.

He's stunned. It's not something he's ever seen before. There's a vibrant, urbane atmosphere that pervades the space, with all the people murmuring softly in the background as the waiters glide effortlessly through the crowd. The massive windows let the glittering city lights in, creating a beautiful contrast with the gentle, golden light inside.

"Are we—" he starts to say, but Hallam flashes out a hand.

"Trust me," Hallam winks, taking him to a secluded table by the window. "Just wait for it."

As they get settled, the surprise is unveiled. Arjun and Mei, already at the table, turn to grin at him. Mei, being the hyperactive one, wiggles her fingers wildly in greeting. Arjun, the reserved and controlled one, only nods slightly, his lips curving upward. They're both immaculately dressed, and the whole tableau is dreamlike—something from a movie set to life.

"You. did this?" he asks, his eyes wide.

Mei winks at him. "Of course. Hallam said you were coming to visit, so we decided to give you Sitford welcome-style."

Hallam smiles, sitting down in a chair. "Celebration dinner—new beginnings, new friends. And yes, Arjun and Mei had arranged it all before you arrived on campus."

Arjun looks him up and down, "Say, you're the Chemical Virtuoso?" Arjun looks at Hallam, "What was his name, again?"

Hallam chuckles, it is not rare for Arjun to forget names but able to recall formulas effortlessly, "His name is..."

Before Hallam can say it he blurted out, "Darius Ormonde"

He says again, "But you can call me Darius."