Eating is the best with a good view

   Back in the vent, we crouched near the gap and waited. Below us, the guards’ canteen was still empty. Clean tables, untouched food, and a ticking wall clock counting down the minutes.

   We were waiting.

   Fifteen rested his chin on his arm as he peeked through the vent. “You might be quite a prankster, you know that?”

   I looked at him. “Does that mean to be a compliment?”

   Before he could answer, the door to the canteen opened.

   A group of guards entered, laughing and talking as they lined up at the buffet. They filled their trays casually, unaware of anything unusual.

   We both watched in silence as they sat down and took their first bites.

   It didn’t take long.

   One of the guards stopped mid-chew and made a face. Another grabbed his cup and drank like his mouth was on fire. A third spat something into a napkin and started cursing. Several of them looked around, confused, fanning their mouths, reaching for water. Some stood up and shouted across the room. The mood shifted fast—confusion turning to frustration, then straight into chaos.

   I finally reached for my own food and started eating. Beside me, Fifteen opened his bag and dug in.

   The food tasted even better while watching the guards melt down.

   And all because I added a generous amount of pepper to all the meals in the buffet.

   Fifteen laughed with his mouth full.

   We ate slowly, enjoying both the meal and the show. No one suspected anything. No one looked up.

   I took another bite and asked, “By the way, how did you know what time it was?”

   Fifteen didn’t look up from his food. “Most of the guards wear watches. You can catch a glimpse if you pay attention.”

   I frowned. “That’s it?”

   “Well,” he said, swallowing, “you also have to learn to count seconds. After a while, it becomes automatic. Just keep track, and you’ll always know the time.”

   I blinked. “You’re serious?”

   “Yep.” He grinned. “So go ahead. Praise me as much as you want.”

   “...I regret asking.”

   He just laughed.

   Still, the thought stuck with me.

   Maybe I should try it, I thought. Counting seconds... Might be useful.

   After we finished eating, both of us said at the same time:

   “Thanks for the dinner.”

   Then we moved.

   We crawled back through the vent, retracing our path. The air was warm, the tunnel quiet. On the way, we reached another vent opening—this one right above a garbage container.

   “Here,” Fifteen said.

   We dropped our trays and bags through the gap. They landed perfectly inside the trash container. 

   We kept going until we reached the destination and jumped down into the isolation room.

   The second we hit the floor, we dropped onto our backs with full stomachs.

   It felt strangely peaceful.

   Then, without thinking, I laughed.

   Not a dry exhale. Not a smirk.

   Actual laughter.

   Probably the first time I’d ever actually done that.

   First time in my whole life.

   Fifteen looked over and smiled.

   I silenced for a moment.

   ...

   "...Sora..." I said quietly.

   He turned his head. “Huh?”

   “You asked about my name the first time we met, right?”

   I stared at the ceiling.

   “It’s Sora.”

   He smiled wider. “That’s a nice name.”

   Then he reached out a hand.

   “My name is Zeno. Nice to meet you, Sora.”

   I reached out and shook it.

   “Nice to meet you, Zeno.”

   That was how I met Zeno, my first real friend.