Kai and Noah waved once before turning away from the field, their figures growing smaller as they headed down the road toward wherever their plans were taking them. Tyler watched them go for a brief moment, then turned back toward the noise and movement of the field, where laughter and raised voices still filled the air.
He broke into a light jog, weaving past the edge of the game just as Elijah noticed him returning.
"Hey," Elijah called out, tossing the ball lightly into the air before catching it again. "We decided to play one more."
Tyler didn't hesitate. "Alright."
The game resumed with less structure than before, the kind that only came when everyone was already tired enough to stop caring about rules. Someone tripped and stayed down longer than necessary, laughing. Another missed an easy pass and blamed the sun. The ball moved slower now, feet heavier, but the mood was lighter, loosened by exhaustion.
Time slipped by without anyone counting it.
By the time the sun dipped lower and the light softened into a dull orange, the match ended naturally rather than decisively. Someone declared victory with a raised fist. Someone else groaned dramatically and demanded a rematch another day. Shirts clung damply to skin, and goodbyes were exchanged without ceremony.
Tyler stood near the edge of the field, waiting as Elijah finished talking with a few of the others. He wasn't in a hurry. The air had cooled slightly, carrying the scent of grass and dust, and for the first time in a long while, Tyler felt something settle into place inside him.
It was a quiet feeling. Not excitement. Not pride.
Just ease.
He tilted his head back and looked up at the sky, watching the colours deepen as evening approached. The tension he carried so often, the constant readiness, was absent. In its place was a calm he hadn't realized he was missing.
I haven't felt this in a long time, he thought.
The realization didn't alarm him. It grounded him.
The future would be heavy. He knew that. Responsibilities would come, decisions would stack, and the world would not wait for him to be ready.
Tyler made a decision that felt firmer than any plan he had made before.
"The future will be better this time," he said under his breath. "For me. For everyone. I'll make sure of it."
Tyler lowered his gaze toward the pond, its surface dull and shallow in the fading light. He stepped closer, looking down until his reflection stared back at him, distorted slightly by the uneven water. For a moment, he simply observed his own face.
His eyes caught the light.
Blue, with faint sparks that shimmered briefly before settling.
"Because I have these," he murmured quietly, the words meant only for himself.
A voice came from behind him, casual and familiar. "You've been staring at that pond since we got here."
Tyler didn't turn around.
He didn't need to.
The presence behind him was already clear, the thoughts brushing faintly against his awareness, distinct enough that he could recognize them without effort. Elijah. The familiarity of it made Tyler relax further rather than tense.
Without looking back, he replied softly, "It was fun today, Elijah. It really was."
Elijah paused beside him, then smiled, the expression easy and unguarded. He rested a hand on Tyler's shoulder, squeezing once. "Good. That's a good thing."
They stood there for a moment longer before Elijah stepped back. "Come on. Let's go home."
Tyler nodded. "Yeah."
They walked together through the quieting streets, the energy of the day settling into comfortable fatigue. By the time they reached Tyler's house, the lights inside were already on, warm against the deepening evening.
Elijah didn't bother knocking. He raised his voice instead. "Aunt! I brought your precious son back safely, still in one piece."
The door opened almost immediately. Melissa stood there with an expression that mixed relief and amusement. "I see him," she said, looking Tyler over. "He doesn't look broken."
"That's because I did my job perfectly," Elijah replied, grinning. "No injuries. Only mild exhaustion."
Tyler stepped past him. "We just played soccer."
Melissa smiled, her gaze lingering on Tyler's face a little longer than necessary. "You look happy."
"I am."
She nodded, satisfied, then turned to Elijah. "Thank you for bringing him back."
Elijah waved it off. "Anytime."
After a few more words and another reminder about hydration, Elijah stepped back onto the porch, already turning away. "I'll see you tomorrow."
"Yeah," Tyler said.
Elijah lifted a hand in farewell and headed down the street toward his own home, disappearing into the evening.
Tyler stood at the doorway for a moment, watching him go, the quiet of the house welcoming rather than heavy.
The days that followed settled into a gentle pattern.
Morning came without urgency, sunlight creeping in slowly, waking Tyler before any sound did. Some days began with Elijah knocking on the door, already talking before it opened. Other days unfolded more quietly, shaped by chance meetings and shared boredom rather than plans. Summer stretched itself thin and generous, offering time without asking for productivity in return.
Tyler spent long afternoons outside, moving between places without feeling the need to linger anywhere too long. Sometimes it was the field, sometimes the narrow lanes between houses where neighbourhood children gathered with no clear goal beyond filling the hours. The games changed constantly. One moment it was soccer with uneven teams and shifting rules, the next it was racing each other to the end of the street, laughter breaking out whenever someone tripped or gave up too early.
Elijah was there most days, louder and more energetic than the others, pulling people into motion whether they wanted to move or not. Katherine joined occasionally, sharp-eyed and competitive even during games that weren't meant to be taken seriously. Daniel followed more quietly, reliable and patient, stepping in wherever he was needed without complaint.
Tyler noticed how easy it was to exist among them when he stopped measuring himself against the moment.
He played when he felt like playing. Sat when he felt like sitting. Talked when words came naturally and stayed silent when they didn't. No one questioned it. Childhood accepted inconsistency without demanding explanation.
On one afternoon, they sprawled beneath a tree near the field, the grass warm against their backs, conversation drifting without direction. Elijah complained about how slow summer felt when there was nothing planned. Katherine argued that it was better this way. Daniel listened, occasionally nodding, occasionally adding a quiet comment that redirected the discussion without drawing attention.
Tyler lay there with his hands folded behind his head, eyes half-closed, listening more than speaking. The sky above shifted lazily, clouds stretching and dissolving. Time passed without friction.
Another day, a group of neighbourhood kids dragged Tyler into a game he didn't fully understand, something involving a stick, a stone, and rules that changed every few minutes. He lost twice, won once by accident, and laughed more than he expected to. When the game dissolved into argument and then boredom, they simply moved on, scattering without ceremony.
That, Tyler realized, was the quiet magic of it.
Nothing needed to be preserved.
Evenings often ended on porches or doorsteps, conversations tapering off as the light faded. Tyler returned home tired in the best way, body worn out, mind calm. Melissa noticed the change without commenting on it directly, her questions gentle, her smiles lingering a little longer.
Vanessa observed too, though her interest was sharper, more assessing. She asked where he had been, who he had seen, how long he planned to stay out next time. Tyler answered politely, offering nothing extra. The questions did not unsettle him. They simply existed, like background noise he no longer needed to focus on.
One afternoon, when the heat pressed heavier than usual, Tyler sat at the table with a glass of water, flipping through a book without really reading it. Melissa moved quietly around the kitchen, preparing something simple for later.
The doorbell rang.
Tyler looked up just as Melissa called out, "I'll get it."
Noah stood outside, shifting his weight from foot to foot, excitement barely contained. The moment he saw Tyler, he grinned. "You're home."
Tyler nodded. "What's up."
Noah stepped inside, glancing around quickly as if checking who might be listening. "We decided the day."
Melissa paused, curiosity surfacing. "Decided what."
Noah straightened, suddenly aware of her presence. "Uh, we're planning a small surprise."
"A surprise," Melissa repeated calmly.
Tyler closed the book. "For Ms. Rivers."
Melissa's expression softened immediately. "Oh."
Noah nodded quickly. "She's leaving soon. Getting married and moving. Kai thought… we thought we should do something. Just us."
Vanessa appeared in the doorway, drawn by the conversation. "Something like what."
Noah hesitated, glancing between the adults. "A small party. Nothing big. At her house. We're keeping it quiet so she doesn't find out."
Vanessa folded her arms loosely. "And when is this."
"Wednesday," Noah replied.
Tyler spoke without hesitation. "I'll come."
Noah's grin widened. "Really."
"Yes."
Melissa smiled at Tyler, approval clear in her eyes. "That's thoughtful."
Vanessa studied him for a moment longer. "You're sure."
Tyler met her gaze calmly. "Yes."
Noah relaxed visibly, the tension draining out of him now that the decision had been made. "We're still figuring out what to bring. Cake maybe. Some decorations. We don't have much money."
Melissa set down what she was holding. "I can help with that."
Noah blinked. "Really."
"Of course," she said. "She was important to you."
Vanessa nodded once, already calculating logistics. "Just tell us what you need."
Noah exhaled, relief evident. "Thanks. I'll tell Kai."
He turned back to Tyler, excitement returning. "I knew you'd say yes."
Tyler smiled faintly. "Just let me know."
Noah nodded eagerly and headed back toward the door, pausing only long enough to wave again before leaving.
The house settled back into quiet.
Tyler returned to his seat, the book still unopened in front of him. The afternoon light filtered in through the window, soft and unhurried. Somewhere outside, children shouted, laughter carrying faintly through the air.
Another choice made. Another moment lived.
And this time, Tyler didn't question it.