Good Morning

Morning light was already bleeding through the gap in the curtains when Hugo finally opened his eyes.

His body felt incredibly heavy, a direct result of staring at a screen until 1:00 AM, but he didn't move to get up. He lay perfectly still on his back. That strange, quiet warmth from last night was still sitting squarely in his chest. It was a fragile, unfamiliar anomaly. He felt as if, by shifting his weight or taking a deep breath, the feeling would shatter and vanish completely.

He didn't want it to vanish. For the first time in years, he was feeling something other than exhaustion or dread, and he just wanted to hold onto it for a few more minutes.

"What is wrong with you?!"

The sudden, echoing shout violently pierced the floorboards.

Hugo flinched, his entire body seizing up. The warmth in his chest evaporated instantly, replaced by a freezing rush of adrenaline.

It was his father, downstairs in the kitchen.

Hugo didn't consciously make a decision. His reflexes just took over. He grabbed the thick edge of his duvet and pulled it entirely over his head, burying his face into the mattress. In a fraction of a second, his entire mood had completely inverted. The brief, foolish illusion of a normal teenage life was gone, and he was right back in his cage.

He lay trembling in the dark under the blanket, listening to the muffled, angry vibrations of his father's voice echoing up the stairs. Hugo mentally retraced his steps from the night before. 

Did I leave a light on? Did I forget to lock the door? Is he shouting because of me?

Ten agonizing minutes passed before the heavy slam of the front door shook the house walls. A moment later, a car engine started in the driveway and slowly faded down the street.

The house plunged into a suffocating, dead silence.

Hugo slowly pushed the blanket off his head. The cold morning air hit his face. He dragged himself out of bed, his bare feet silently hitting the floorboards, and crept down the stairs.

He checked the kitchen first. Empty. He checked the living room. Empty.

He walked softly down the hallway and stopped in front of his parents' bedroom. The heavy wooden door was firmly shut. He couldn't hear any crying, just absolute stillness on the other side. She was definitely in there.

Hugo stood inches from the wood. He slowly raised his hand, his knuckles hovering just a millimeter from the door.

He stared at his own hand. What was he supposed to say? 

Are you okay? Was he yelling at you, or was he angry at me? 

He didn't know how to comfort her when he was just as terrified as she was. Slowly, his hand dropped back to his side. He turned around and walked away in silence.

Twenty minutes later, he stepped out the front door, his school bag slung over his shoulder. The crisp morning air hit his lungs like a physical reset button. With every step he took away from the house, the heavy, suffocating gravity in his chest began to lighten incrementally.

He kept his head down, tracing the cracks in the pavement, until the tall, iron gates of the high school finally came into view.

Hugo stood just outside the classroom door. He took a slow, deliberate breath, trying to force the heavy, suffocating weight of his house out of his lungs.

It didn’t work. The tight knot in his chest refused to unravel. He couldn't just shut off the lingering echo of his father’s shouting or the memory of his mother’s locked door. Human emotions didn't have a power switch, no matter how desperately he wanted one.

He gripped the handle and slid the door open. The metallic scrape briefly drew a few glances from the front row before the students went back to their loud morning chatter. Hugo naturally turned his eyes toward the back corner.

He stopped walking. The atmosphere around their clustered desks was visibly toxic.

Mina was slumped forward, her forehead pressed completely flat against the wood of her desk. Her arms hung limply by her sides like she had given up on life entirely. Right next to her, Yuri was sitting impossibly rigid, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. She was glaring straight ahead at the blackboard with a terrifying silence.

Shira stood at a safe distance, leaning against the windowsill. She looked deeply exhausted. When she noticed Hugo, she pushed herself off the wall and walked over to intercept him.

"Morning," Shira murmured, offering a small, weary smile.

"Morning," Hugo replied. His eyes flicked back to the disaster zone at the desks. "What happened?"

Shira let out a slow, long-suffering sigh. 

"Mina left the flash drive on her kitchen counter."

Hugo just stared at her for a second. Looking at Mina’s defeated posture, it made perfect sense.

He didn't say a word. He just shifted his backpack off his shoulder, walked past Shira, and stopped directly in front of Yuri.

Without breaking eye contact with Yuri’s furious glare, Hugo unzipped the small front pocket of his bag. He pulled out a cheap, black piece of plastic and dropped it onto Yuri's desk.

Clack.

Yuri flinched slightly at the sound. She looked down at the small plastic rectangle sitting next to her notebook. Then, very slowly, she looked up at Hugo, her jaw slightly slack.

"You..." Yuri started, her voice barely a whisper.

Hugo offered a single, brief nod. He didn't offer any long explanations. He had copied the final presentation files over to his own drive right before shutting his laptop off last night. It wasn't some grand, calculated plan. He had just prepared a backup, just in case.

Shira tapped Mina’s slumped shoulder and pointed silently at the black plastic square sitting next to Yuri’s notebook.

Mina slowly lifted her head. She stared blankly at the desk for a second before her eyes darted up to Hugo.

"Hugo brought a backup," Shira said. The tight, exhausted line of her mouth softened into a small curve.

Mina pushed her chair back so hard the metal legs shrieked against the floorboards. She jumped up, pressing her palms firmly together in front of her nose, and bowed at a sharp ninety-degree angle.

"Thank you! Oh my god, thank you, thank you, thank you..." she chanted loudly, turning a few heads in the front row.

Hugo stiffened. His arms locked rigidly by his sides.

‘Someone standing outside.’ The memory of Shira’s voice suddenly crossed his mind. He looked down at the top of Mina’s head, and then met Shira’s eyes right across from him. He wasn't watching them from the back of the room. He was standing directly in the middle of their desks.

Beside the bowing Mina, Yuri dropped her face into her hands. A long, shaky breath hissed out through her teeth. Her shoulders, which had been hiked up to her ears since Hugo walked in, completely collapsed. She lifted her head, the sharp, terrifying glare entirely gone.

"Thanks, Hugo," Yuri muttered, her voice hollowed out by pure relief. "You really saved us this time."

Hugo gave a single, jerky nod. He turned around on his heel and walked straight back to his empty desk in the corner.

He unzipped his bag and pulled out his textbook. Before he even had it open, the heavy silence at the front of the room was completely shattered.

"My life literally flashed before my eyes," Mina gasped, collapsing heavily back into her chair.

"Keep your voice down," Yuri snapped instantly, the strict edge immediately returning to her tone. "The teacher is about to walk in. And if you ever do that to me again, I will end you."

"Don't be mean, I was traumatized too!" Mina whined, grabbing Shira's sleeve. Shira just leaned against the desk, laughing softly under her breath.

Hugo sat down. He opened his textbook to a random page, resting his chin heavily in his palm. He looked out the window at the morning sky.

The tight, freezing knot that had been sitting behind his ribs since six o'clock this morning hadn't magically disappeared. It never did. It still sat there, a low, dull ache at the bottom of his lungs, a quiet reminder of the locked door he had left behind.

But as he listened to Yuri aggressively whispering threats at Mina across the room, the knot loosened. Just a fraction. Just enough for him to draw a full, unbothered breath.

He let his eyes drift entirely out of focus, staring at the glass. And for the first time in a long time, he didn't try to tune out the noise.