Ethan moved through the kitchen on autopilot. Every muscle protested, but his body clung to the rhythm of something familiar—doing, not thinking.
He pulled out the basics: sugar, flour, milk, eggs. His hands still shook a little as he mixed them together, the whisk clattering against the bowl. The sound was oddly comforting, grounding. The scent of flour in the air made the apartment feel almost normal again.
He didn't measure anything, just worked from memory—simple bread dough, the kind Aunt May once taught him to make when he helped at the soup kitchen. Fold, press, turn. Fold, press, turn. Something human in the middle of all this madness.
Once the dough looked right, he set it in a pan and slid it into the oven. The faint hum of heat filled the silence.
Then he grabbed the cold can of Rockstar from the fridge, cracked it open, and took a long drink. The carbonation burned his throat, but he didn't care. He needed something.
The panel flickered back into being above the counter.
[Energy Restored: +0.7 Temporary Boost] [Total Energy: 1.5 / 3.0] [Status: Stabilized]
He could feel it immediately—his body didn't ache quite as much, the dizziness fading. His fingers stopped trembling.
Ethan leaned on the counter, exhaling slowly. "Okay," he murmured. "Back in one piece… sort of."
But his mind wouldn't stop. The panic might've passed, but the consequences hadn't. Susan and Johnny were on their way. He couldn't just tell them, Hey, turns out I might be a living debug file for reality.
He rubbed his temple, thinking fast.He needed a story—something believable, something that would keep them from looking too close.
Maybe I blacked out from stress?Maybe a new anxiety med backfired?Maybe I saw something online that triggered me?
Each lie formed easily enough, but when he tried to settle on one, a strange bitterness filled his mouth, like he'd bitten into metal. His pulse quickened again, though not from fear—something about lying just felt wrong.
He frowned. "You've got to be kidding me," he muttered. "Do I have a moral subroutine now?"
He paced the kitchen, muttering through possibilities. If he framed this mutation—whatever it was—as something harmless, something halfway between a panic attack and a neurological glitch, maybe they wouldn't press too hard.
Because the truth? The truth was too big.And if he could do this—open panels, move points—then maybe there were more codes. More commands waiting for him to discover. The thought was both thrilling and terrifying.
The smell of baking bread snapped him back to reality, warm and sweet. For the first time since waking up on the floor, something actually felt alive.
Then—DING.The oven timer rang just as a car screeched into the driveway outside.
Ethan froze.His eyes flicked to the window. The sound of tires on asphalt, the sharp slam of doors—he didn't even need to look to know who it was.
Susan and Johnny had arrived.
The timer's chime jolted Ethan into motion. He hurried to the oven, yanking it open and pulling the pan out with his bare hands. The heat stung, but he barely noticed—he set the loaf on the stove, the golden crust steaming faintly in the cool kitchen air.
That's when he heard it.The sound of a key turning in the lock.
His heart dropped."Oh, great. Perfect timing…" he hissed under his breath, realizing what was about to happen.
He'd given Susan a spare key months ago. For emergencies, she'd said. Just in case.And now, of course, she was using it.
"Idiot," he muttered, running a hand through his damp hair. "You actually gave her a key."
The familiar anxiety began to climb his throat, his chest tightening again—but he forced it back down. Not now. Not in front of her. He braced his hands on the counter, took a shaky breath, and turned just as the door flew open.
Susan stepped through—and stopped short.
Susan's POV
For one terrifying second, Susan thought he'd collapsed again.Then she saw him—standing, barely, in the middle of the kitchen. His clothes were soaked through, clinging to his frame. His face was pale with ghost-white patches across his cheeks, eyes bloodshot, lips trembling. His hands twitched as if they couldn't decide whether to move or freeze.
She'd seen panic before, but not like this. Ethan looked like he was about to vanish.
"Oh, Ethan…" she breathed, and before he could speak, she crossed the room and wrapped her arms around him.
Ethan's POV
The moment Susan's arms closed around him, the fragile control he'd been holding shattered.All the fear, the pain, the confusion—everything he'd tried to swallow—hit him all at once. His chest heaved, and a sob tore free before he could stop it.
"I—I don't want to hurt anyone," he managed, voice breaking. "I swear, Susan, I don't—I'm not like them…"
Flashes burned behind his eyes—mutant hate groups screaming through megaphones, flames swallowing buildings, terrified faces on the news. The word mutant echoing like a curse.
His knees buckled. He clung to her like she was the only solid thing left in the world.
Susan held him tighter, one hand at the back of his head, her voice calm and steady even as her eyes filled. "You're okay, Ethan. You're safe. Nobody's going to hurt you."
Footsteps thundered in from the doorway, and then Johnny was there too—dropping to his knees beside them, wrapping both arms around them without a word.
The three of them stayed like that on the kitchen floor: Ethan shaking, Susan whispering quiet reassurances, Johnny's warmth keeping them steady.
Outside, the world still buzzed with fear and hate.But in that small apartment, for the first time since the Resonance, Ethan Vale wasn't alone.
Ethan's breathing began to slow. His body sagged, exhaustion finally winning. The adrenaline, the panic, the energy drain—it all came crashing down at once. His vision blurred again, darkness creeping in at the edges.
"Su…" he tried to say, but the word never finished. His legs gave out completely, and he went limp in Susan's arms.
Susan caught him, lowering him gently to the floor. Her heart ached at how light he felt. She pressed a hand to his cheek—he was burning up.
She turned to Johnny, voice firm but trembling with concern."Pick him up," she said. "He's coming back with us. I'll call the school and let them know he won't be able to make it today."
Johnny nodded without a word, scooping Ethan up effortlessly. As they left the apartment, the faint smell of freshly baked bread lingered behind them—warm, soft, and human.