Disturbing The Peace

The group stood in front of the buffet, gazing at the spread as though it was a science experiment they had to present a report on. Mei was the first to grab a plate, glancing between the available dishes before she looked at Darius and Hallam.

"So, how did you two meet?" she asked, spooning a large portion of rice onto her plate.

Arjun, already taking dessert first, nodded in agreement. "Yeah, we get you're best friends, but like, what kind? School? Neighbors?"

Darius hesitated, looking over at Hallam, who was still standing beside him, plate-less.

"You didn't tell them?"

Hallam chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. "Nope. I was too busy telling them about you, not how we met."

Mei chuckled, scooping up a spoonful of vegetables. "Sorta makes sense, since he only recalls the toughest bits of a biology chapter and everything else escapes him."

Hallam snorted, folding his arms. "Oh, come on, Arjun isn't any better! He recalls all the formulas and none of the names."

Mei nodded in concurrence, grinning. "But if the name was in binary, he'd recall it in a flash."

Arjun rolled his eyes, taking a bite of his dessert straight from the buffet table before serving himself a plate. "Excuse me for having priorities. Also, joke's on you, I actually do know how to write your names in binary. Want me to recite them?"

Mei groaned. "Please, no."

Hallam snickered. "I'm pretty sure he's done it before."

Arjun shrugged. "Only once. For science."

Darius finally did take a plate, shaking his head in amusement. "I think it's safer if we move away from the dessert table before Arjun starts coding our entire conversation."

Mei pretended to gasp. "Darius, did you just make a joke?"

Darius shot her a flat look. "I can be funny."

Hallam elbowed him. "He actually can. Sometimes."

"Debatable," Mei teased.

Arjun smiled, already guiding them toward the main dishes. "Anyway, before we're sidetracked, Hallam, dish. How'd you two meet?"

Hallam looked at Darius with a knowing grin. "Oh, it's a story."

Darius sighed, readjusting his hold on the vacant plate in his hands.

"Not while standing," he replied. "Let's go get our food first, then we can talk at the table."

Mei pouted. "Ugh, okay. But if you take too long, I'm making up my own version of the story."

Hallam laughed. "Oh, I'd love to hear that."

Arjun smiled, scooping a second dessert. "Bet it's some big slow-motion shot. Maybe some rain-bound rendezvous of fate."

Mei sucked in air, poking her spoon at Hallam. "I mean—yeah! Like—was running behind for something significant, then—bam! Bangs into Darius, books flying all around, hands brushed together in apology while picking up the books—"

Darius snarled. "Do I look like a person who ever runs behind schedule?"

Hallam grinned. "Do I look like the type to carry books?"

Arjun snorted. "Fine, okay."

Mei sighed in dismay. "You two are no fun."

Darius grinned deviously. "You're just mad we ruined your fanfiction."

Mei stomped her foot and jabbed a finger at him. "I knew you had a sense of humor!"

And with that, they finally started serving food onto their plates, their joking still continuing as they sat down at the table.

Darius smiled to himself, preparing to start talking—only to have Hallam cut him off in mid-stream.

"It happened in the second year of middle school," Hallam stated, placing his beverage on the table.

Mei nodded forward with excitement. "Ooooh, so you guys were buddies since childhood."

Arjun whistled, already chewing a piece of his meal. "Which means you two have been stuck together for, what, seven years?"

Darius gave Hallam a sidelong glance. "Feels longer."

Hallam grinned. "You love me."

Darius shook his head. "Anyway, are you doing the same story, or am I?"

Hallam leaned back in his chair, palms up in surrender. "Go on, I'll just interrupt your version when you start making yourself sound cooler than you actually were."

Darius sighed but couldn't hide the small smile on his mouth. "Fine. It all began when—"

Middle School, 2014

Hallam and his family moved to Manchester from Cambridge for work. His parents, both doctors—his father a surgeon and his mother a gynecologist—had mapped out his future before he was able to speak. He would be a doctor, like them. It wasn't a decision; it was a given.

Hallam attended the nearest school to their new home. It didn't matter where he went to school—what mattered was that he did go to school. With two highly educated parents, he had been educated in science. When he started school, he was already several leagues ahead of the rest of the class in biology.

Soon enough, everyone was labeling him as the weird kid. Hallam was odd from day one—especially after he savagely laid waste to a junior's innocent misconceptions regarding the conception of babies in vivid scientific detail.

If most of the school found him odd, Darius did not.

Darius was just as strange—if not stranger. His chemistry-teaching professor dad and toxicology-professor mom had created him into a whole other kind of threat. Hallam was book intelligent, but Darius was wild. He would sneak into his parents' laboratories and pilfer equipment and chemicals to carry out his own experiments. He didn't study science—he experimented with it.

The two of them shouldn't have clicked. Hallam was strict, raised to follow rules and expectations. Darius, careless, perpetually one step away from getting grounded for his most recent "find."

And yet, somehow, they did.

They liked each other. But more importantly, they challenged each other. Friendly fire. A constant battle of wits, intelligence, and occasional acts of scientific destruction.

A rivalry. A friendship. A delicate balance of madness and intelligence.

Hallam guffawed so hard he came close to choking on his drink, the memory washing over him in a tide.

"Remember the science fair?" he gasped between laughter.

Darius shook his head, trying to suppress a smile. "Ugh, don't remind me. We were enemies. You and your biology DNA to tedious detail, and me and my chemistry. colored fire."

Hallam was actually sobbing now. "We fought for nothing! All that effort and then we messed up the other's efforts after that!"

Darius snorted, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, and then Billy beats us with his stupid remote control car, which he and I knew for sure must have been brought from home."

Mei leaned forward, smiling. "Oh, so that's how it happened. You two were just arguing over who was the real genius of the fair. And meanwhile, Billy's out here pulling the biggest cheat of the century with a car that probably had a secret button for each grade."

Arjun, who had been quietly savoring his dessert, jumped in without missing a beat. "Yeah, I'm positive Billy was too busy looking for 'science projects for dummies' on Boogle while you two were having your 'intellectual war.'

Hallam slapped the table, laughing even more now. "I swear, that car was a cheat! It wasn't even scientific. He just pressed a button, and boom, the car started moving!"

Mei's head moved back and forth, poking Hallam. "And here you're like a mad scientist, and Billy just pushed buttons. Next time, work on your teamwork, not your ego."

Darius sat back in his chair, chuckling about the memory. "You were so angry, you knocked over my fire experiment, and I—"

"—spilled my biology slides into your chemical mixtures!" Hallam interrupted, chuckling. "We wrecked the whole thing."

Arjun smiled. "Sounds like a good project to me. Just write some 'unforeseen results' in the report."

Darius shook his head in disbelief, a smile tugging at his lips. "And still, Billy went and won that stupid trophy."

Mei leaned back in her chair, a headshake. "Honestly, I'm actually thinking of renaming the science fair to 'How to Cheat Your Way to a Trophy.'"

Hallam laughed, nodded. "This kid doesn't have any idea about science. He was just seeking a day in the limelight."

Darius glared at him. "Yeah, at least he didn't blow up his own project like we did."

"Right," Mei laughed. "If you two had worked together for half as much time as you spent wrecking each other's work, you might actually have won."

They all chuckled at that, the common good will between them shining through as they razzed Hallam and Darius.

Darius had cooled enough at last to speak again, his head shaking in disgust. "God, we were fools."

Hallam smiled at him. "Best sort of fools."

Mei raised her cup. "To the morons, then."

Arjun clinked his cup against hers. "May their future science projects be as successful as their middle school fair."

Mei grinned, sipping her drink. "Well, I wasn't so much better when I was a kid. I had one day when I didn't want to go to school, so I on purpose fell in the mud and destroyed my uniform."

Darius's eyebrow shot up. "You on purpose got dirty?"

Mei nodded, smiling. "Yeah. So then I went back home and told my mā that I accidentally slipped. I even made up this sob story about how the school guards didn't let me in because my uniform wasn't neat enough. She believed it, and zing—I was out for the day. That was all while I was back in China."

Hallam snorted. "You were a handful."

Arjun chuckled, head-shaking. "That's cute, but I did worse. I was studying for English all night for 5th grade, thinking my test was for English. I went in, all confident, only to discover math on the test."

Darius winced. "Oof. That's mean."

"Rough?" Arjun grinned. "I was angry, I literally tore my exam paper in half—in front of the entire class—then I just walked out like the lead hero of some Bollywood movie."

The table erupted into a fit of laughter.

Mei nearly spat her drink out. "Oh my God, you dramatic idiot!"

Arjun laughed, his head shaking. "In hindsight, I groan so badly. Of course, my maa didn't think it was as melodramatic as I did. She whooped my behind, made me retake the test. and I scored a hundred."

Hallam sobbed. "I love that you thought you were making some great statement, and all you got was a do-over."

Darius grinned. "From 'rebel without a cause' to 'honor student in 24 hours.' What a redemption arc."

Arjun rolled his eyes theatrically. "Yeah, yeah. Moral of the story—don't rip your bloody exams apart, kids."

They all laughed once more, the conversation running easily from shared childhood catastrophes to good-natured jibes.

Mei leaned forward, grinning. "Okay, okay, you and Darius and me and Hallam, who do we think was the most insane as a kid?"

Hallam smiled. "Oh, definitely me and Darius. We actually sabotaged each other's schoolwork for no reason."

Darius chuckled. "Sabotage? You poured your disgusting biology slides into my chemicals first."

Hallam shrugged. "You burned my model in retaliation—"

"Because you began it!"

Arjun cut in, raising his hand like he was a referee. "Wait, wait—y'all were just nerds with anger issues. Meanwhile, I tore up a genuine test page on a test and just strolled out like some Bollywood star. That's elite-level risk-taking."

Mei snorted. "Pfft, no way. You lost it. I lied to my own mom and made the whole thing up just to get out of school. I committed fraud at age seven."

Darius crossed his arms. "Fine, but did you break into a chemistry lab as a child and conduct your own 'experiments' on stolen equipment?"

Mei raised an eyebrow. "Did you jeopardize getting your ass beat by an Asian mother just to cut class one time?"

Arjun put down his spoon. "Guys. I hurt school property."

Hallam leaned in. "You thought it was cool, but really, you were just bitter and dramatic."

"EXACTLY." Mei nodded at Hallam. "And meanwhile, I had the mental presence of mind to plan my own exit in advance."

Darius rolled his eyes. "Planning an escape is a cakewalk compared to breaking and entering into a locked lab at the age of twelve."

Arjun scoffed. "You didn't break in. You were sneaking around your own house."

Mei rolled her eyes. "And what, do you think incinerating a test makes you crazy? I'd say that makes you bad at managing your impulses."

Hallam chuckled. "Yeah, Arjun, you didn't mean anarchy—you panicked your way into it."

Arjun threw up his hands. "You guys are just jealous because my rebellion was blockbuster."

Darius sighed melodramatically. "Oh yes, because Bollywood entrances are so much crazier than potential arson."

Mei leaned back smugly. "So we're all in agreement that I win, then? Because weaseling your own mom is peak childhood wickedness."

"Nah," Darius shot back. "The craziest thing a kid can do is knowingly experiment with poisonous materials in a makeshift lab in someone's house, unsupervised."

Hallam nodded. "Or psychologically traumatize a first grader by talking about where babies really come from."

Arjun crossed his arms. "Still think y'all are not giving the art of dramatic departures enough credit."

The table erupted in laughter once more, with all of them still convinced they were the most outrageous.

Hallam shook his head at last, exhaling. "Let's get real. We were all monsters, just in different ways."

Darius chuckled. "Absolutely. The question is—are we monsters now?"

Arjun grinned. "Oh, absolutely."

Mei smiled. "I like to believe we just learned to be better at it."

Mei, still chuckling over their fight, absent-mindedly allowed her eyes to roam the room. That was when she noticed a woman alone at a table close to them stirring her drink listlessly. Her expression was unreadable— calm, maybe too calm, like she was masking irritation.

She nudged Arjun. "Guys… she's been there for a while."

Arjun tracked her gaze and shrugged. "Yeah, I noticed her when Mei and I got here. Maybe her boyfriend stood her up at the last minute."

Hallam snorted. "What a lack of a gentleman."

Darius rolled his eyes. "Like you're any better."

Hallam tutted in mock offense. "Oi, rude!" He turned back to the woman and shook his head. "But for real, whoever that boyfriend of hers is, dude sucks. How the hell you gonna keep a baddie like that waiting?!"

Mei snickered. "Hallam, you're more upset about it than she is."

Hallam scoffed. "Because it's a crime against beauty."

Darius snorted. "You're acting like she's your girlfriend."

Hallam placed a hand dramatically on his chest. "If she was, I'd never keep her waiting."

Mei rolled her eyes. "Please, you'd get caught up cutting up a frog or something and come in even later."

Arjun laughed. "Or worse—he'd come in and just start spouting some weird biology fact."

Darius grinned. "Yeah, imagine. 'Hey babe, did you know your skin replaces itself every 27 days?'"

Hallam groaned as they all burst out laughing again. "Y'all are haters."

The woman, though, remained at her table, still waiting.

The crowd continued to make jokes as they observed the woman alone, their teasing friendly and laced with jabs. Then, however, Mei, a mischievous glint in her eye, leaned in.

"You know, Hallam," she began, her tone laced with sarcastic fun, "you sound terribly concerned about this unfortunate girl sitting by herself."

Arjun raised an eyebrow, feeling her vibe. "Yeah, you've been giving her the look for a while now. Maybe you're interested?"

Hallam's eyes widened, and he threw up his hands in defense. "What? No way, I'm just being—"

Mei cut him off, laughing. "Oh, don't even attempt to deny it. You're completely interested."

Darius leaned in, playing along. "Yeah, you've been staring at her long enough to make us all feel uncomfortable."

Arjun smiled. "I believe you should pop over there, Hallam. Set us an example. Make that 'baddie' wait no longer."

Hallam was taken aback by the brazen challenge, gazing back and forth between his friends, who all awaited his response. He stared once more at the woman, who sat alone on her seat, nursing her drink placidly.

He shrugged, feigning indifference. “Alright, fine. I’ll go over and say hi. It’s not like I’ve got anything to lose.”

Mei, Arjun, and Darius exchanged glances, a mix of excitement and amusement on their faces.

“Let’s see if the self-proclaimed ‘smooth talker’ can actually pull this off,” Darius teased.

Hallam exhaled a deep breath, rolling his shoulders back as he stood up. "Alright, but y'all owe me ten bucks each."

Mei, Arjun, and Darius all nodded, barely holding back their grins. This was going to be fun.

Hallam smoothed his shirt, brushed through his hair, and breathed deep before approaching the woman's table. As bravely as he had attempted to sound, once he was in close proximity, he could feel his brain functioning on a less-than-ordinary level.

Oh no.

She was even lovelier closer up.

Her silky, dark hair lined her face, and her intelligent, dark eyes gazed up at him as he moved toward her. Her face was serene but slightly smiling, as though she could already tell this was going to be a catastrophe.

Hallam coughed. "Uh—hello."

The woman raised an eyebrow. "Hello?"

There was nothing.

Hallam had completely blanked. His charm? Vanished. His ability to make sense of sentences? Also vanished.

She tilted her head to one side, waiting.

Hallam finally returned to consciousness, desperately reaching for something to say. "I—uh, so, I noticed you've been sitting there for a while, and, uh—" Shit, what was the line again? "And, um… are you waiting for someone?"

Brilliant, Hallam. Absolutely revolutionary conversation skills.

The woman's lips curled into a warm smile. "Wow, yeah." She glanced at her watch. "I was supposed to meet someone here ages ago, but I guess they're running late."

Hallam nodded his head eagerly, trying to think of something cool to say. "Whoa, that's. uh. really rude of them! A lady as, uh, cool—I mean, pretty—I mean, nice as you shouldn't be waiting around by yourself."

Oh my god, shut up, Hallam.

The woman smiled faintly, fidgeting with her drink. "That's very considerate of you to comment."

Hallam, catching sight of a momentary reprieve that she wasn't immediately accosted by security, latched onto that and tried to keep the conversation going. "So, uh, is this like… a date? Or just a meet-and-greet?"

The woman let out a sigh. "An arranged date, actually. My parents arranged it."

Hallam came up straight. "Oh, set up? That's, uh, interesting! Do you know the man already?"

She shook her head. "No, not really. My family set this up, but I'm not entirely sure that I want to be interested."

Hallam smiled, trying to downplay the situation. "Well, if he's keeping you waiting this long, I say you dump him."

The woman smiled quietly. "That's tempting."

For a second, Hallam thought he was doing all right. Like, perhaps this wouldn't be so bad. Perhaps he actually could have a conversation with this complete goddess of a woman.

And then—

"So, what about you?" she asked. "Are you here with your friends?"

Hallam nodded, and suddenly felt a sense of pride. "Yeah, we just started college, so we're celebrating."

The woman blinked. "College?"

Something shifted in the air. "...Yeah?"

She tilted her head a little to one side, as if only now realizing something significant. "Wait. How old are you?"

Oh no.

Hallam hesitated, but there was no way out of it. "Nineteen?"

The woman's warm smile was still on her face, but there was a clear difference in her expression. It wasn't disgust—it wasn't even disappointment. It was just. oh, I see.

"Well," she said, taking a sip of her drink, "that makes things easier."

Hallam blinked. "Huh?"

She smiled. "I'm twenty-six."

Hallam.exe has ceased to function.

He lost all of his confidence from his body.

Twenty-six.

Twenty. Six.

She was seven years older than him. He had just tried to hit on a grown-up adult woman who likely thought of him as a baby.

"I—uh—" Hallam stuttered. He could feel his dignity imploding. "Oh! Haha, wow! You—uh, you don't look twenty-six at all! That's—uh—cool?"

The woman laughed, clearly amused at his distress. "That's sweet, but I'd never go out with someone younger than me, let alone someone in their freshman year of college."

Hallam was devastated. Completely crushed. Totally destroyed.

He tried to laugh, massaging the back of his neck. "Yeah, no, totally, yeah, I get that! I mean, I wasn't, like, trying anything, I was just—uh—y'know—checking in—"

The woman smiled kindly. "Of course. Very thoughtful of you."

At that moment, Hallam wanted the earth to swallow him whole. He glanced back at his table, where Mei, Arjun, and Darius were losing their minds, barely holding back their laughter.

“…I’m gonna go,” Hallam muttered.

“Good idea.” The woman gave him a small, amused wave. “Enjoy your college years, kid.”

Hallam turned and power-walked back to his friends, his soul leaving his body with every step.

The instant he sat down, the entire table erupted into laughter.

Mei dabbed at an eye. "Oh. My. God."

Arjun was holding his stomach. "Bro. She called you a kid."

Darius shook his head, laughing. "Folded. Flat out folded."

Hallam groaned, putting his head on the table. "I hate you guys."

Mei patted him on the shoulder, still laughing. "Hey, at least you attempted it."

Arjun laughed. "Yeah. Attempted and failed."

Darius held out his hand. "Now, about that ten bucks, still want it?"

Hallam lifted his head high enough to snarl at him. "Screw. You."

The table fell apart laughing.

Arjun wiped at a pretend tear from his eye. "Bro, I hurt watching that."

Mei rolled her head back and forth, laughing. "You folded so fast. She didn't even need to rudely turn you down—just you melted at the prospect of her age."

Hallam emitted a disgusted groan, running his hand over his face. "Yeah, yeah. Hand it over."

Arjun handed him a ten, huffing. "I kinda feel bad handing this to you. Kinda."

Mei tossed her ten onto the table. "That was worth every penny."

Hallam swept the bills up like they were his only victory of the night. Then he looked Darius straight in the eye and spun his ten between his fingers with a maniacal smile.

"Hmm. Should I really give this to you?" Darius slurred. "Given that you just got blown out there—"

"Darius." Hallam's voice was menacing.

Darius laughed and finally handed it over. Hallam pulled it away from him.

"This is the most emotionally expensive thirty bucks I've ever made," Hallam growled. He stuffed the money into his wallet.

Mei smiled. "Look on the bright side. You can say you shot your shot with an older woman."

Arjun smiled. "More like missed your shot."

Hallam poked them with a fork. "If you two don't shut up—"

Darius leaned forward, chin on palm. "Would you do it again if we bet fifty?"

Hallam chuckled. "No."

Arjun furrowed his brow. "That was too fast."

Mei gasped. "He totally would!"

Hallam rolled his eyes and threw his napkin at her. "Eat your damn food."

Asher finally walked into the restaurant, and the entire atmosphere seemed to shift. His golden hair, sharp blue eyes, and confident stride drew the attention of everyone around. He had the aura of someone who belonged in a Hollywood movie.

Mei’s eyes widened as she watched him walk by. “Holy shit. who is that?”

Arjun, staring at Asher, grumbled, "Is he a model or something? This guy's movie star material."

Hallam, pouting over his earlier humiliation, glanced up at the commotion. His face dropped when he absorbed who they were all staring at. His stomach churned. "No way."

Mei whispered to Arjun, her voice little more than a murmur above the noise, "He's like. American dreamboat material.".

Arjun nodded, never taking his eyes from Asher. "The kind of bloke who makes you wish you were part of his fan club."

Hallam, attempting to brush aside the increasing awkwardness.

They all observed Asher walking into the room and directly making his way to the table where the woman had been sitting alone.

Mei stared at Hallam, scrunching up an eyebrow. "Wait. who's the man? Is he with her?"

Arjun shook his head, equally perplexed. "Is he part of her team or—?"

Hallam was frozen to the spot. His stomach fell lower as he realized precisely who Asher was. He moved in close, speaking quietly, "She said her parents arranged her a date. that's him. The date."

The team stared at him in stunned amazement.

Mei's eyes grew wide. "Hold up, he's her arranged date? You're joking, right?"

Arjun's eyes grew wide with realization. "Oh man. you were fighting him?"

Hallam sighed. "Yeah, looks that way."

The group was in silence for a moment, trying to wrap their heads around reality. Arjun was the one to break the silence. "Bro. you never had a shot.".

Mei laughed, her head back. "Hell, Hallam. I had no idea you were fighting with that."

Hallam buried his face in his hands, trying to hide from his shame. "I loathe all of you," he growled.

Darius, having sat silently eating throughout the entire ordeal, finally looked up. He saw Asher's perfectly timed arrival and could not resist joining the group concensus. Asher was beyond a doubt beautiful. He could not resist surrendering.

Smiling, Darius faced Hallam. "Mate, you got annihilated. Sorry, man, that guy? You stood no chance."

Hallam groaned, as if the world was slowly pulling him in. The others kept on teasing him, laughing and joking about Asher's movie-star looks, as Hallam slumped further back in his seat, hoping to disappear.

The restaurant buzzed with activity—talk, laughter, and the clinking of plates piled high with food. Waiters wove through the crowded room, clearing tables and refilling drink stations, and the scent of roasted meats and savory dishes wafted through the air. Glasses clinked, silverware scraped, and conversations blended—until slowly, the din started to fade. It didn't stop all at once but receded, like a wave receding from the beach.

Then, soft murmurs circulated around the room.

"Wait… is that fog?" one asked quietly, their tone filled with fear.

"I thought it was going to snow tonight," another replied, their voice uncertain.

Darius stood still. His stomach dropped as he walked toward the long windows along the wall. The mist outside crept down the streets, swallowing the glow of streetlights and blurring the outline of buildings. Too soon. It's too soon. He'd hoped for another week—a week to prepare, to warn them. But the mist cared not for his timelines.

A chill sweat crept at the base of his neck.

"Hey, man, are you—" Hallam started, but Darius wasn't listening.

He moved.

Straight to the drink station, his step crisp and deliberate. Asher had only just arrived, cup in his hand, and was making a beeline for one of the two coffee machines. Darius shouldered his way past him before he reached it, threatening to knock him off balance. Asher stumbled, catching himself on the lip of a table. He shot Darius a glare, then turned to Hallam, his voice harsh with annoyance.

"What is he doing?" Asher grumbled, pointing to Darius, who was currently ravaging the drink station like a maniac.

"I have no idea!" Hallam spat back, sounding half panic, half shock.

Darius's hands rushed to the first coffee maker, fingers scurrying under it. Filters. He needed the filters. He took out one of them, and proceeded to the second machine, repeating the same actions. His breathing was spasmodic, his fingers trembling a bit.

A waiter walking by stopped in front of him, a tray full of dirty dishes in his hand. "Sir, you can't—"

But Darius wasn't listening. He spun, snatching two cloth napkins from an empty table. His mind was a spin. He had to leave. Now.

He spun on his heel, racing back toward the drink stand, his hands wrapping around the napkins and filters. In a quick movement, he clamped the first hand he could find.

"Let's go," he snarled, his voice raw and demanding.

Then, he pulled.

Asher stumbled ahead, his empty cup slipping from his grasp. It hit the floor with a soft clink and slid away, unnoticed. He opened his lips to protest, but the desperation in Darius's grip—desperate, unyielding—kept him silent. He let himself be dragged.

Hallam blinked, still attempting to understand what he was witnessing.

"What the fuck is happening here?" he whispered, his words borne on the music.

Behind them, the rest of the patrons started to whisper, their gazes switching between Darius and the fog outside. A woman at the next table leaned over her friend, her voice soft but audible. "Is he having some kind of episode? Should someone call for assistance?"

Her friend shrugged, nervously glancing out the windows. "I don't know, but he's scaring me. What's with the fog? And why is he doing this?"

Another man, near the bar, had his say. "Maybe he's on something. Look at his hands—they're shaking like crazy."

Mei and Arjun exchanged uncomfortable looks, both their eyes tracking Darius as he moved towards the door, Asher in tow.

“I’ll explain…” Darius murmured, his voice strained, almost breathless. “I’ll explain everything when we reach the higher floor. Move.”

And with it, they were gone, having left behind a room full of confusion and the pernicious fingers of mist creeping along the windows.

They made their way quickly to the stairs, 

Darius was rushing along—stumbling over stairs in his haste to reach the upper floors. Asher followed, still trying to get his head around what the hell was going on.

As they reached the upper floors, Darius was gasping, sweating buckets, his head spinning. He stumbled towards the reception desk, knocking into the counter. His fingers gripped the edge, his breaths ragged gasp.

The front desk woman, a neatly dressed woman in her 40s, blinked at him, obviously shocked.

"Sir, are you—"

"Room—" Darius had trouble speaking. "Highest floor."

The woman winced. "Pardon?"

Darius dug into his pocket, pulling out his wallet. His hands trembled as he opened it, pulling out money that was not even remotely enough for what he was asking. But he still tossed it on the counter like it was adequate.

"I... I-I'll return the rest later," he stammered, his speech frantic.

The front desk clerk shook her head. "Sir, it doesn't work that way—"

Darius rested his forehead on the counter, eyes screwed shut.

"We're doomed, Hallam," he muttered. "Doomed, doomed, doomed!"

Asher looked at him bewildered.

Hallam?

Oo that must his friend—the guy who tried to stop him at the restaurant.

Asher let out a harsh breath, already regretting every moment of this debacle. He should be angry. He should be bellowing, ripping into this man for pulling him into whatever the devil's game was.

But his gaze wandered past Darius's head. His dark brown hair, damp with perspiration, had fallen into riotous strands.

Asher's jaw clenched.

Damn it.

He groaned, rummaging into his pocket. In silence, he pulled out his credit card and slapped it on the counter.

"One room," he said suavely. "Top floor."

Darius didn't even notice—too absorbed in his own terror.

Asher, however, tried to ignore that dark brown hair was his weakness.

The woman at the reception desk swiped Asher's card, and after a brief pause, he entered his PIN. All went through okay, and she handed him the key to his room with a friendly smile.

Asher's attention was drawn back to Darius, who was still standing there, shaking visibly and gasping for air. Something was amiss, and Asher could feel it in the atmosphere. He could smell the fear that was radiating from Darius, the panic that was quite clearly getting the better of him.

Without thinking, Asher stretched out a hand and gave Darius a light tap on the back with the room key in a bid to get his attention. Darius's green eyes, glassy and unfocused, turned to him. For a moment, the vulnerability in his eyes hit Asher with more impact than he was expecting, a punch to the gut. Darius didn't say anything; he just blinked, his eyes too lost in his thoughts to fully register Asher. His eyes were damp, as though he was on the verge of falling apart, and Asher couldn't speak, his words drying on his tongue.

Darius's gaze shot down to the card Asher held. His hand darted out in a snatch, stealing it from Asher's hand, and Asher didn't resist, watching as Darius's fingers clenched around it in a hard fist. There was something flickering in his eyes—relief, maybe, or something closer to desperation.

"Oh my God, Hallam—you literally saved our asses!" Darius cried, still in a panic, the use of Hallam's name coming naturally and without a second thought.

Asher did not correct him. It did not matter.

Darius's focus was entirely on the room number on the card, his face tightened when he read it. His shoulders relaxed almost imperceptibly as if some level of certainty had descended. With not a second glance at Asher, Darius grasped his wrist and pulled him towards the staircase, heading to the higher floor.

The elevator was never an option. They had to take the stairs again. Darius's grip on Asher's wrist tightened as they climbed, each step hurried, each breath strained. Asher didn't question, didn't try to slow him down. He just followed, his mind filled with questions he couldn't ask, unable to shake the feeling that Darius was way over his head.

Darius didn’t look back. He was too consumed by the chaos in his mind to realize just how much Hallam had been pulled into this mess. In his panicked state, all he could focus on was getting to safety with Hallam, the only person who mattered right now. He didn’t even register that the hand he grabbed wasn’t his best friend's.

They reached the top floor. Darius's hand did not let go of Asher's wrist as he walked in front, his stride still frantic.

Darius and Asher reached the door of their room. Darius put the card into the slot, and the door creaked open. He didn't waste any time as he walked inside but had turned around and shoved Asher against it even before the door had a chance to properly shut.

"Hallam—"

His words jammed in his throat, confusion befalling his mind as he stared at the man standing before him. Blond hair, blue eyes.

The reality struck him like a train.

Darius backed away sharply, his foot catching on the carpet, and he sat down on his ass. His mind was spinning. He could hardly credit what was happening.

"No... all this... time... you?"

He couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. The words stuck in his throat, but he was suffocating on the wave of emotion. He wanted to scream. He wanted to cry.

"Hallam.... FUCK!"

Darius stumbled to his feet, pushing Asher away from the door in a frantic attempt to attempt some semblance of control over what was occurring. But Asher did not move. He stood his ground, watching Darius with a calm, unemotional gaze.

"You dragged me all the way up here, acting like the fog was big stuff, and now you're cracking? You said you'd explain what was going on. So, continue."

Darius faced Asher, his face tight with tension. He spoke deliberately, as if each word was a burden.

"The mist... it's not normal. Every 100 years, Earth lets it out as part of her natural cycle of purging. It's how she rebalances herself when things get too unbalanced."

He moved towards the window, his eyes traveling down to the mist below, his voice increasing in intensity.

"Gases of the mist—carbon monoxide, hydrogen sulfide, chlorine gas, and sulfur mustard—are not merely toxic. They are natural, drawn up from the depths of the Earth, part of a cycle older even than civilization. A purifying. A renewal. But sometimes death is not immediate. Some drop in minutes, their lungs burned raw, their bodies convulsing as poison takes its hold."

"The gases don't kill—destroy. The known ones rip apart lungs and flesh, but the unknown ones are worse. They seep into the brain, reprogramming thought, stripping the human away until all that's left is beast. Until they turn."

Darius walked back and forth, raking a hand through his hair, clearly struggling with the sheer size of it all.

"The mist doesn't stop until a threshold of deaths is met. Beyond that, it starts to lift. The mist retreats, taking the altered with it. They topple over, really dying this time."

He paused, his expression darkening.

"And when they die… it's no ordinary death. Their bodies don't rot. They melt down into a poisonous fertilizer. Their bodies mingle with the gases, feeding the soil with this foul, unnatural power. That fertilizer burrows deep into the Earth's core, frozen for the next 100 years."

He inhaled, the grief in his eyes evident.

"This is every century, every 100 years, like a clock. Earth restocks herself. If we survive this time around, we will not survive the next one. We'll be dead before it happens. The next generation might see it with us, though. When the cycle breaks, the soil is contaminated—with the next 100 years until recolonization."

Darius paced the hotel room, his feet restless, his mind spinning. The phrases in the journal whirled in his head, combined with the bleak reality of what happened. Hallam… He knew Hallam was dead. He couldn't process it now—he had to act, to think, to live.

His hand reached into his pockets, fingers tracing the coffee filters and cloth napkins he had stuffed in there beforehand. With a rough breath, he yanked them out and placed them on the bedside table in tidy piles. Every movement was automatic, something to keep himself from falling into the hole yawning in his chest. His breathing was uneven, his body tense, as if he were bracing for a fall he couldn't afford.

Asher sat on the edge of the bed, his brows furrowed, trying to make sense of what he'd just been informed. His arms were crossed and his jaw set. His mind refused it—it was something he'd never learned at school, something he'd never been told about. But the resolve in Darius's tone made it impossible to completely disregard.

“The Earth is an entity?” Asher asked finally, his voice laced with doubt. He leaned his elbows on his knees. "Like, a living, breathing thing?"

Darius didn't even glance at him, his hand already reaching into his pocket for his phone. "Not now," he choked out, fingers trembling as he unlocked the screen and scrolled to his mother's number. He hit call. Held the phone against his ear. Waited.

One ring.

Two rings.

Three—

Voicemail.

Darius struggled for air, his throat closing up. He tried once more. Same thing.

His hands were icy, his eyes blurring. His mother, his father, the twins—nobody was answering. The fog had reached the UK. He could sense it. He felt it in his stomach. The burden of uncertainty hung on him like a heavy weight. He gripped the phone, his knuckles turning white, as his body shook silently in sobs. His breath caught in his throat as he tried to stay on his feet, but the fear inched at him, merciless.

Asher, having been there the whole time, hesitated. This wasn't the Darius of a second ago—sensible, cool, full of wisdom. Now, however, he was merely. broken.

With a groan, Asher heaved himself up. He wasn't particularly skilled at this kind of thing. People comforting wasn't something that came easily to him. But seeing Darius like that, shaking, clutching his phone as if it was his only lifeline, he couldn't just remain where he was.

He placed a tentative hand on Darius's back. "Hey," he said, his voice a bit softer than it had been. "We don't know anything for sure yet. Maybe… maybe they just can't get a signal at the moment."

Darius breathed in sharply, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand. "Maybe" he snarled, but his voice betrayed him. He didn't believe it.

They remained there for a moment—Darius staring at his phone, Asher standing rigidly beside him, his hand still on Darius's shoulder blades. At last, Darius took a breath and made himself focus. To think.

He put down the phone and wiped his face once more before standing upright. "Sorry," he breathed. "I just…" He shook his head, unable to go on.

"It's alright." Asher stepped back, giving room. Then, hesitating, he rested his head, his earlier questions still bothering him in his mind. "How did you learn all of this, then?"

Darius sniffed, shoving the phone back into his pocket. His voice was firmer now, though still heavy with emotion. "Because my great-grandfather did."

Darius steeled himself with a deep breath. Asher's question still lingered, weighed down by its ramifications, but there was no room for hesitation.

"My great-grandfather," he began, voice still tight with emotion but more under control now. "He was a scientist—brilliant, but. unorthodox. He believed the Earth was alive, that it had its own consciousness. No one paid him any attention. They thought he was just another war-shocked lunatic. But he put down in writing all he knew about the mist."

Asher crossed his arms, eyes narrowing as he examined Darius. "And you believe he was correct?"

Darius looked at him. "You just saw what's out there." He jerked a hand briefly in the direction of the window. "People transforming into monsters. The mist coming in like clockwork. Tell me what part of this is normal to you."

Asher closed his mouth, lips tightening into a thin line. He had no answer to that.

Darius exhaled, his gaze flicking to the bedside table where napkins and filters were placed, a discreet reminder of his own preparedness. "The mist has appeared previously. 1820, 1920. Every hundred years. People blamed war, industry, anything but the truth. My great-grandfather tried to prove it was a natural cycle—a purge. The earth fights back when we overstep."

“Okay, but why the hell didn’t anyone else pick up on this?” Asher pressed. “You’re telling me your great-grandfather was the only one to figure it out?”

Darius shook his head. "Others noticed the pattern, but they had no proof. And my great-grandfather? He had proof—chemical analysis, witness testimony—but he never published it." His jaw tightened. "My great-grandmother concealed his research. She was scared that it would ruin the family's reputation. So it sat there, in the family library, collecting dust."

Asher let out a low whistle. "So you just… stumbled across it?"

"Near enough." Darius's lips twisted in a gesture too sour to be a smile. "I was cleaning out the old family library as punishment for some foolish thing I'd done in my main family home. That's where I found his diary. Read it cover to cover. First, I thought it was nonsense. But I checked his research, did my own research. And once I examined the dates, the reports, the trends…" He let out a sharp breath. "I knew he was right."

Asher ran a hand over his face, attempting to wrap his head around it all. "So you were expecting this."

Darius's face clouded over. "I suspected. But with no means of actually proving it, I wasn't able to do anything. No one would've listened to me anyway."

Asher stared at him for a long while, then let out a dry laugh. "You're telling me the world has been missing a hundred-year doomsday clock, and the only reason we're not stone blind right now is that you got grounded?"

Darius let out a sound that was almost a laugh. "Yeah. Pretty much."

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The distant wail of sirens outside was the only sound between them.

Then Asher straightened. “Alright. So if this has happened before, that means someone survived it. What’s our next move?”

Darius’s gaze flickered toward the bedside table again. The filters. The napkins. Small things, but important ones. They had to be smart, careful.

“We need to figure out where it’s safe to use firearms and where it isn’t,” he said. “Some gases are flammable. If we’re not careful, we’ll blow ourselves up.”

Asher nodded, rolling his shoulders. “Alright. Lead the way, genius.”

Darius opens the phone. "We still got wi-fi let's use that till the quota runs out. It's my first time ever in the US so I've gotta get used to the map of California." He flipped the screen, eyes scanning over unfamiliar roads.

Asher gave him a skeptical glance, arms crossed. "First time, huh? Where are you from?"

Darius glanced up for a moment before lowering his eyes on the map again. "England."

Asher grinned. "Figures. The accent betrayed it." He tilted his head to the side. "We should properly introduce ourselves, considering we're stuck together. What's your name?"

Darius looks up through his eyelashes. "Darius Ormonde."

Asher nods. "Asher César. Now—" he gestured towards the phone. Darius, however, was searching the room before reaching down to grab the small notebook that rested on the bedside table. "We have to think about this." He opened it up and started sketching a rough map, marking key points based on what he could see on his phone.

"What are you doing?" Asher asked, peering over his shoulder.

"Marking key locations." Darius clicked his pen against the paper. "Safe zones, potential labs, supply drops—anything valuable." He gave Asher a look. "The safe zones—skyscrapers 500 feet and higher. The fog goes up to about 450-500 feet, so anything above that should be fine. We need to find the best places to get above it." He raised an eyebrow. "You're here. San Francisco's California's best lab. And anything that could be helpful to us?"
Asher frowned, arms folded as he attempted to process it all. "Alright, safe zones are 500 feet up. But why a lab? What exactly are we looking for?"

Darius didn't even glance up from his notebook. "Level A suits. We can't venture through the mist without protection, and these suits are proof against biochemical exposure."

Asher hissed out a breath, rubbing his jaw. "Shit. Yeah, that would fit." His forehead furrowed, then he snapped his fingers together. "UCSF. University of California, San Francisco. They have biohazard research labs—level-high containment labs. If anyone's going to have what you're looking for, it would be there."

Darius picked up his pen, writing it down immediately. "Good. That's our destination."

Asher's gaze went out to the window, where stranded cars clogged the roads. "We take my car as far as we can. If we get a jam, we take a motorbike."

Darius nodded, tightening his hold on the pen. "If we stop, we're dead."

Asher smiled. "Then we don't stop."

"First, let me finish this map. Our phones won't last forever," Darius muttered, continuing to draw.

Asher leaned back slightly, watching him work. "Hm. By the way, you mentioned the mist disappears when it has reached its death toll… so how long are we talking?"

Darius did not lift his gaze, his pen tracing the line on the map, his voice firm. "It could be weeks, months, or even worse years. Just know it won't be over until the body count is fulfilled."

Asher's drumming fingers halted. "So what, we just sit here waiting? We can't just—"

Darius stopped him with a grand sweep of his hand. "Relax. There's no rush. We're safe in here. I'll finish this map, and then we can figure out how we're going to escape."

Asher let out a rough breath. "And then what? We can't exactly go outside unprotected."

Darius looked up; his gaze peaceful but firm. "We haven't got a defense yet, I know. But we have to focus now. We'll attack when we are ready—not one moment earlier, not one moment later."

Asher let out a deep breath, annoyance creeping in before he caught Darius's peaceful demeanor. He ground his concern and sat in a chair. "Yeah, okay Just don't take all day."

Darius smiled at him with a small smirk, his voice calm. "I'll take my time. Just don't lose your mind, and we'll be fine."

Asher chuckled, the tension in his shoulders easing. "Okay, okay. Just don't make me wait forever."

Darius didn't miss Asher's presence, sitting slumped in the chair, absently running his hand over the lip of the table. "Asher, huh?"

Asher humming didn't make it past the cushions. "Yeah."

Darius looked around the room. "Look for food. And check the news."

Asher snorted. "Already done talking to you then?"

Darius let out a sigh. "Just make do with what we have for now. Save the rest. Those are worth life now."

Asher shrugged at that and pulled himself to standing. He moved over to the minibar, opened it, and surveyed the meager contents. A few candy bars, an apple juice in a miniature bottle, and crackers. Shrugging again, he grabbed the juice and a chocolate bar, tossing the latter onto the bed.

"There. Gourmet dinner."

Darius picked up the chocolate bar, his eyebrow raised. "You eat like a five-year-old."

"Hey, sugar wakes me up," Asher shot back, reclining into his chair and switching on the television.

STATIC. THEN—A LIVE NEWS REPORT.

The TV screen flashed to display the blurred images of a news helicopter soaring over a city shrouded in fog. The camera pulled in for a close-up on the streets below, where automobiles were bumper-to-bumper parked, doors thrown open. Bodies—some torn in two, some still squirming—lined the sidewalks.

A panicked news anchor’s voice crackled over the footage.

“We are broadcasting from above San Francisco as the city falls into chaos. This mist appeared suddenly, and—" the reporter’s voice broke, "—it’s like nothing we’ve ever seen before! There are—people, but they aren’t…they aren’t people anymore—"

The camera zoomed in on the ground.

The creatures weren't zombies—ghastly, mutilated monstrosities. Burned and bubbling flesh sloughed away in sections, revealing charred, infected meat beneath. Some were twisted at unnatural angles, bone protruding, sinew dangling from bent joints like wet ropes. There was one of them, a woman, leaning against a car, half her face scorched away, skull visible beneath.

The reporter's voice trembled.

"They—they were people! But the mist—it's—it's—"

The helicopter descended, its blades slicing through the heavy fog. The fog seeped into the cabin, curling through the vents like a beast. The air filters were helpless against it.

The pilot gasped in—and then gagged, his hands tearing at his throat. His skin blistered on the spot, veins swelling and darkening as the gas consumed him from the inside out. He screamed, a raw, animal sound that tore through the speakers.

"OH—OH MY GOD! IT BURNS! IT FUCKING BURNS!"

The co-pilot spun to him, his face pale with horror. "What's happening?! Hey—stay with me, STAY WITH ME!"

The camera switched to the face of the pilot—LIVE, FULLY IN VIEW.

His eyes exploded first, bubbling into a yellow pulp before they did explode. His mouth gaped open more than any human could have, gums peeling back off to show his jawbone. His teeth shot out in clumps, his tongue shrinking away like a raisin. His backbone thrashed, bones cracking audibly as his body twisted into something that was no longer human.

The co-pilot screamed. The camera crew screamed.

The reporter’s voice was shrill, desperate. "CUT THE FEED! CUT THE—"

It did not cut.

The world saw the pilot's body twitch once and then stiffen. For one moment of silence. Then he moved again—inhuman, jerky. His jaw dislocated, and he lashed at the co-pilot.

STATIC.