1. Animal control

1 - 2

The hum of traffic and chatter faded into a muted symphony as Ezer stepped off the bus, the blistering heat of the late summer air wrapping around him like an unwelcome embrace. He fiddled with his earbuds, the steady stream of German lessons—a constant reminder of his parents' expectations—giving way to the cacophony of the city's heartbeat. Ahead, amidst the throng of people bustling to and fro, stood Jay, a solitary figure grounded like an ancient oak in a field of wildflowers.

"Hey," Ezer called out, his voice barely breaching the distance between them.

Jay turned, his sharp gaze cutting through the crowd, locking onto Ezer with an intensity that sent a ripple of something—anticipation? excitement?—through Ezer's veins. He walked up to Jay, his steps hesitant but determined, aware that this meeting was nothing like he'd expected—less like two acquaintances and more like the prelude to something significant.

"Good to see you," Ezer said as he reached Jay, who nodded in acknowledgment, his lips a flat line. The white streak in Jay's hair caught the sunlight, lending him the look of a character from one of those graphic novels Ezer's classmates whispered about, the ones where heroes hid behind stoic facades.

"Likely to be hot all day," Ezer remarked, squinting against the sun, hoping to elicit more than the usual monosyllabic response from Jay. 

"Looks like it," Jay replied, his voice carrying a hint of something undefinable, maybe the weight of unspoken stories or hidden scars. Ezer noted the way Jay's eyes seemed to hold entire galaxies, dark and mysterious, hinting at depths untold.

"Shall we?" Ezer gestured vaguely to the mall entrance, its glass doors reflecting the promise of air-conditioned respite from the relentless summer glare.

"Sure," Jay said, falling in step beside Ezer as they navigated the maze of the mall, the air cool and filled with the mixed scents of fast food and new clothes.

Ezer glanced up at Jay, taking in the angular jawline and the almost imperceptible softening around his eyes. In that moment, there was a glimmer of something beneath the surface, a crack in the facade that made Ezer think of long-hidden treasures waiting to be discovered. It wasn't just the contrast of Jay's white hair against the sea of black and brown locks around them; it was the sense that Jay carried worlds within him, each more intricate and fascinating than the last.

As they walked side by side, a sense of camaraderie began to weave itself into the fabric of the sweltering afternoon. The buzz of conversation, the distant laughter of children playing near the fountain, the rhythmic click of shoes on tile—all of it underscored the beginning of an unexpected connection, a friendship unfurling like a sail against the vibrant backdrop of summer.

3 - 4

Ezer's suggestion hung in the air like a kite caught on a summer breeze, hopeful and tentative. "Do you want to do something fun?" he asked, tilting his head as he searched Jay's face for any sign of interest.

"No," came Jay's flat reply, yet there was no edge to his voice, just a matter-of-factness that Ezer was beginning to recognize as typical.

"Is there anywhere you'd like to visit?" Ezer prodded gently, trying to navigate the enigma that was Jay. His companion's gaze seemed distant, as if he were looking through Ezer rather than at him. "Anywhere is fine."

The non-answer nearly coaxed a sigh from Ezer, but he swallowed it down, opting for patience over frustration. Better an 'anywhere' than a 'whatever', he supposed. Without a compass to guide him towards Jay's preferences, Ezer charted his own course. "What should we do?"

Outside, the sun blazed with the unforgiving intensity of midday, pressing warmth against the glass panes of the mall. "How about a movie?" Ezer suggested, hoping the darkness of a cinema would offer a reprieve from the heat and the indecision.

Jay's silence this time wasn't a dismissal but a consent, and together they lost themselves in the spectacle of a summer sci-fi blockbuster, where galaxies collided and heroes rose amidst the chaos of CGI wonders.

Emerging from the cinematic cocoon, Ezer blinked against the harsh light of reality. It was noon, the mall now a hive of activity, every corner buzzing, every escalator packed with bodies moving in a mechanical dance. He posed the question again, already anticipating the response.

"Anywhere is fine."

This time, Ezer took the lead, steering them away from the cacophony and towards a quiet Vietnam restaurant tucked away in a less frequented corner of the mall. Its subdued atmosphere was a stark contrast to the noisy food courts they passed, the clang of cutlery and sizzle of frying pans replaced by soft instrumental music and the gentle clinking of porcelain.

"Do you want to go in?" Ezer asked, more for confirmation than permission.

He paused, unsure, a momentary hitch in his resolve. Was he so transparent in his need for companionship? But Jay had already moved ahead, echoing the question back, "Do you want to go in?"

Ezer hadn't intended to, had only sought someone to share the weight of the long summer days. Yet, with Jay stepping into the lead, something compelled him to follow. So he nodded, and they entered the cool embrace of the restaurant, leaving the bustle of the world behind.

In the shared silence that unfolded between them, Ezer found a strange comfort. Here, in the company of this enigmatic figure whose every word was measured and whose eyes held untold stories, Ezer sensed the stirrings of an unlikely friendship. It was a connection forged not in words but in the spaces between them, a silent understanding that bloomed amid the relentless pressures of Asian high school life and the unspoken expectations that loomed over their future.

As they waited for their meal in the tranquility of the restaurant, the motif of summer surrounded them—not just in the heat that pressed against the windows, but in the promise of new beginnings and unexpected bonds forming under the watchful eye of the relentless sun.

5 - 6

The clink of porcelain and the murmur of patrons filled the air as Ezer and Jay settled at a table with their food. Outside, the sun scorched the pavements, and anyone unlucky enough to be caught in its gaze was bound to feel its fiery touch. The weather report hadn't lied; it was sweltering—a typical harbinger of long summer days.

Ezer, who usually shunned glasses except for the most demanding reading sessions, squinted slightly across the table. Just yesterday, his myopia had betrayed him, causing him to see Jay's figure in a warped light—twice. As they began to eat, he felt an odd impulse to share this snippet of confusion, seeking to break through the barrier of silence that Jay often erected around himself. 

"The first time I saw you, I thought your arm was broken," he said, a half-smile playing on his lips. It was meant as a joke, but his voice carried a hint of the embarrassment he'd felt upon realizing his mistake.

To illustrate, Ezer lifted his arms, trying to bend them in an exaggerated, unnatural angle. His fingers contorted awkwardly, failing to replicate the image that had flashed before him that day. The memory brought back a visceral sensation, an empathetic twinge in his own bones. "I almost called 911," he confessed, a nervous chuckle escaping him.

Jay simply watched the display, his expression unreadable as ever. Then, with a small shake of his head, he uttered, "Luckily, you didn't." His voice was flat, devoid of ridicule or warmth—just a statement of fact.

Ezer's smile faltered as he met Jay's gaze, a wordless conversation hanging in the balance. Stubborn, perhaps, he mused inwardly, but there was also a resilience in Jay's eyes that Ezer couldn't help but respect.

They ate in relative quiet, the heat of the day wrapping around them like an unspoken agreement to endure together. It wasn't the kind of friendship Ezer had known before, one forged in the crucible of Asian high school life where every achievement was a stepping stone to meet lofty parental expectations. Here, with Jay, it was something else entirely—something formed not from shared triumphs, but from the simple act of sharing moments and enduring the oppressive summer heat, side by side.

7 - 8

The bustle of the Vietnam restaurant was a cacophony all its own, a symphony of clattering dishes and sizzling woks. Ezer maneuvered through the throng, procuring a number from the harried server before finding their place in line. He gestured to Jay, pulling out a chair with a kind of practiced ease that spoke of his desire for them both to be comfortable during the wait.

"Thirty-five," he announced, showing the slip to Jay, whose eyes briefly flicked to the number before returning to observe the room's chaos.

They settled into an odd rhythm, the minutes ticking by as Ezer chatted away about the explosive CGI scenes and clever plot twists of the movie they'd just seen. Jay's responses were sparse, yet when he spoke, it was with surprising clarity, recounting details Ezer had missed with a precision that somehow made the film feel new again.

Ezer's phone chimed intermittently, messages from friends popping up like digital buoys in a sea of social expectation. They fretted over this enigma named Jay, but Ezer found their concern misplaced. To them, Jay might seem a puzzle, his lack of expression a barrier, but Ezer saw something else—a quiet depth, perhaps even a kindred spirit navigating the unspoken currents of a life less ordinary.

Mid-conversation, Ezer's phone vibrated once more. He glanced at the screen, expecting another wave of concerned texts but instead found a message from Jay. Puzzled, he turned towards his companion, only to find him lost in thought.

"Is there a problem?" Ezer prodded gently, conscious that their turn to dine was drawing near.

Jay's gaze held onto Ezer's, and for an instant, Ezer felt stripped bare, as if Jay's deep-set eyes could navigate the labyrinth of his thoughts with the same precision he'd recounted the movie's finer points. But the sensation ebbed away as quickly as it had crashed over him, leaving only the hum of the crowded restaurant between them.

After a moment that seemed to stretch and contract all at once, Jay broke the silence, a softness in his voice that seemed to soften the edges of his typically stark demeanor. "No. Just thinking," he said, and there was a hint of something indefinable in his tone—a whisper of summer winds promising secrets and stories yet untold.

The number blinked up on the digital display, pulling them back from the brink of something neither could quite define. They rose together, two figures cast adrift on the tides of an unexpected friendship, moving toward the promise of food and further shared silences.

9 - 10

Jay's phone slipped back into his pocket, a silent sentinel now stowed away as he rose from his seat with a fluid motion that belied the stillness of their conversation. "No. Just going to the restroom," he stated, his voice betraying no urgency but carrying a calm certainty.

"Wait," Ezer blurted out, a sudden anxiety pricking at the edges of his thoughts. He scrambled for something to say, anything that might pierce the quiet armor Jay always seemed to wear. "Do you hate ice cream?" It was an odd question, perhaps, but it hung in the air between them, a lifeline thrown in desperation. 

Ezer had always been the one to read between the lines, deciphering the unspoken expectations of his Asian parents, where excellence was the only currency. Now, he applied that analytical precision to Jay, laying out questions like a chess player arranges his pieces—strategic, direct.

A flicker of something passed through Jay's eyes—amusement, perhaps?—before he answered. "No."

With that single word lingering like the aftertaste of something sweet yet undefinable, Jay turned and walked away, threading through the throng of mall-goers with ease. His strides were quick, decisive, carrying him around a corner and out of sight. Ezer watched, the buzz of the crowd swelling around him, as Jay navigated the space with the same natural grace he'd shown in recalling movie scenes Ezer could only half-remember.

The crowd was a living entity, pulsing with the heat of summer, each person an orbiting satellite in their own right. Yet Jay moved among them untouched, a lone comet charting a solitary course through a sky crowded with stars.

Ezer stood there for a moment longer, the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. There was an enigma wrapped in Jay's tall silhouette, a puzzle that beckoned with the promise of long summer days filled with whispered confidences and shared laughter. And it was a puzzle Ezer found himself increasingly eager to solve.

11 - 12

Jay's phone vibrated silently in the deep recess of his backpack, a subtle cue that went unnoticed by the bustling shoppers but immediately drew his attention. He slipped away from the throng, finding sanctuary in a quiet corner behind a potted fern that was too green against the sterile mall backdrop. The screen lit up with Dr. Krystiana's message, her words terse and urgent against the soft glow: "S-level sighting. Lake Lysandra. Immediate response required."

High-dimensional creatures, anomalies that defied the very fabric of science, had been a scourge upon Earth for three decades—slipping through dimensional tears like shadows at dusk. The HDCRD, a bulwark against these invaders, tasked itself with sealing the breaches and safeguarding humanity. Jay, with his rare abilities, stood as one of their finest sentinels.

As his thumb scrolled through the report, Jay's expression remained impassive, though internally he cataloged every piece of data. The creature's rapid disappearance concerned him; it indicated intelligence, perhaps even awareness of human surveillance. Such traits made it all the more dangerous.

He leaned back against the wall, the coolness of the painted plaster a contrast to the heat emanating from the crowd. From the pocket of his cargo pants, he retrieved a small nail—a nondescript object to any ordinary onlooker, yet intrinsic to his extraordinary ability.

It had been two years since his powers were classified SSS. At sixteen, he was already among the elite, his name whispered in HDCRD halls with a mixture of awe and expectation. Others might have felt burdened by such responsibility, but Jay embraced it with a stoic acceptance born of necessity. Ezer's world of academic pressures and parental expectations seemed distant in comparison, yet somehow equally complex.

The mall's summer air was thick with the scent of consumerism and fast food; a sharp contrast to the crisp, unpolluted breeze he knew awaited him at Lake Lysandra. As he prepared himself for the task ahead, he couldn't help but ponder the strange twist of fate that had brought Ezer into his life—a friend whose questions pierced through his reserve with surprising precision.

Just as the sun continued its relentless march across the sky, so too must he continue his clandestine battle. With a final glance at the document, Jay tucked the nail between his fingers, its familiar metallic chill a prelude to his departure. A moment later, he would be gone, leaving no trace of his presence save for the lingering sense of mystery that seemed to encapsulate his very essence—a riddle wrapped in the enigma of summer's fleeting embrace.

13 - 14

A drop of crimson swelled at the tip of Jay's finger, the sharp nail still held between his thumb and forefinger. He watched it, unflinching, as the bead of blood grew larger, gravity threatening to claim its prize. But in the blink of an eye, before the liquid could escape his skin, Jay Wynne vanished—his gift of teleportation whisking him away to confront dangers unseen.

Meanwhile, Ezer stood amidst the hum of the crowded mall, clutching a paper tray with two spirals of soft-serve ice cream—one vanilla, one chocolate, swirls conjoining in a frozen dance. The buy-one-get-one-half-priced sign had beckoned him, a small comfort in the simmering heat of summer. He wove back toward their rendezvous point, only to find another shopper had claimed his seat—a mother corralling a flock of children, sticky fingers reaching for anything within grasp.

With a sigh that mingled with the murmurs around him, Ezer sidestepped the growing queue and found sanctuary near the railing. There was a coolness to the metal under his palm, a respite from the sun's glare filtering through the skylights. As he leaned against the banister, the cold seeped into his skin, drawing out the tension that had gathered like storm clouds. 

Ezer licked at the melting treat, his thoughts drifting. His parents' voices echoed in his head—lectures on responsibility, admonitions to keep up with his peers. But those pressures felt distant now, dulled by the peculiar orbit he found himself in—gravitating around an enigma named Jay.

He scanned the crowd, searching for that distinctive shock of white hair amidst the sea of faces. Those few minutes without Jay's stoic presence felt oddly empty, like missing notes in a familiar song. Then, there he was—Jay reappeared, threading through the throng with an ease that spoke of a different kind of upbringing, where the currents of human traffic were less an obstacle and more like terrain to be navigated with precision.

"Where have you been?" Ezer called out, his voice barely rising above the chatter. But Jay didn't need to hear it; he always seemed attuned to Ezer's frequency, no matter how softly spoken.

"Needed some air," Jay replied, his tone even, but not unkind. It was a simple answer, devoid of detail, yet Ezer saw a truth in the slight downturn of Jay's lips, a shadow that crossed his eyes—a fleeting acknowledgement of the world he guarded, so unlike the sheltered halls of academia that Ezer knew.

As they resumed their walk side by side, the setting sun cast long shadows across the floor, turning shoppers into silhouettes. The warmth lingered, the scent of sunscreen and popcorn heavy in the air, while laughter fluttered like butterflies among the rafters. In this momentary calm, Ezer realized that summer had unfurled a new chapter, one penned in the ink of unexpected friendships and the sweet taste of shared secrets.

15 - 16

Jay's silhouette cut a distinct figure against the flurry of mall shoppers, his white T-shirt stark amidst the rainbow of colors swirling around him. Ezer noticed something odd—Jay's backpack, usually pristine, looked unmistakably wet, clinging to his back with dark, heavy splotches. Concern knit Ezer's brows as he hastened his steps, closing the distance between them. 

"Jay," Ezer called out, but Jay didn't turn. It was as if he sensed Ezer's approach, the air between them thrumming with a silent understanding. When Ezer reached out, fingers grasping the damp fabric of the backpack, Jay halted mid-stride.

"Don't touch it. It's dirty," Jay warned without looking at him.

Ezer drew back, his "?" hanging in the space between them—an unspoken question mark punctuating the moment.

Jay peered over his shoulder, noting the bewilderment on Ezer's face. "I accidentally dropped my bag in the restroom," he explained, his voice carrying an edge of dismissal. "Let's go."

They fell into step together, leaving the noise of the mall behind. Ezer's curiosity swelled like a tide within him. "What kind of accident? Did you hurt?" His words were careful, probing the silence that often wrapped around Jay like a shroud.

Glancing sideways, Jay's expression remained unreadable. "No, just a small accident. Not a big deal," he said, redirecting his gaze ahead, effectively closing the conversation.

Ezer wrestled with his thoughts as they walked—a dance of questions and half-answers. He understood the reticence; both of them had grown under the weight of Asian parents' expectations, where a fall meant standing up before anyone saw, where vulnerability was as foreign as failure. Yet, beneath the summer sun's relentless gaze, Ezer felt the thawing of barriers, the quiet forging of a bond that transcended words.

"Accidents happen," Ezer finally murmured, more to himself than to Jay, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "But hey, we got through the day, right?"

"Right," Jay acknowledged, and there it was—a glimmer of something shared, a subtle sync in their mismatched rhythms.

Summer seemed to stretch out before them, a canvas of long days and warm nights, laughter echoing off high school walls, and the thrill of uncharted friendship. In the midst of it all, Ezer realized that sometimes the most profound connections are those that catch us completely by surprise.

17 - 18

The city's cacophony faded into a gentle hum as Ezer and Jay ambled along the riverbank, their footsteps in sync with the languid flow of water. A symphony of cicadas serenaded the encroaching dusk, and the storefronts they passed whispered tales of the day's end. The sun dipped low, painting the sky in shades of amber and mauve, casting long shadows that danced upon the pavement.

"Here's good," Jay said, his voice a soft intrusion into the quiet, as he gestured towards an empty bench.

Ezer nodded, settling beside him on the weathered wood, the river's cool breath kissing their skin. They watched the water's surface flicker with the last light of day, the city's skyline reflecting like a myriad of scattered dreams.

Jay's movements were deliberate as he reached for his dampened backpack, setting it between them. With a deft unzipping, he revealed its contents—a collection of metallic sheen and enigmatic shapes. Ezer leaned forward, curiosity igniting within him as he peered at the peculiar assortment.

"What are those?" he asked, his gaze darting from one alien tool to the next.

"Tools for my job," Jay responded, his tone matter-of-fact as if the answer was as plain as the twilight around them.

Ezer's brow furrowed, his mind scrambling to piece together the puzzle that was Jay. "What kind of job needs these?" he inquired, unable to mask the intrigue lacing his words.

"Animal control," Jay stated, locking eyes with Ezer, earnest and unwavering.

A pause hung in the air, heavy with the unsaid, as Ezer's thoughts raced. Animal control—yet nothing about the tools seemed ordinary or benign. And there was Jay, a mosaic of sharp edges and soft secrets, challenging every preconceived notion with each revelation.

"Seems... intense," Ezer ventured, his voice hesitant but compelled by the flickers of connection that sparked between them.

"Sometimes," Jay replied, a ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, hinting at depths untold. It was a rare glimpse behind the stoic facade, a silent acknowledgment of shared understanding.

Ezer contemplated the weight of expectations, the unspoken pressures that lingered like summer's humidity. He thought of his parents' aspirations, the unyielding drive for success, and how, in this fleeting moment, none of it seemed to matter.

"Summer's weird, huh? Full of surprises," Ezer mused, a soft chuckle escaping him as he looked out over the rippling water, finding solace in the unpredictability of life.

"Definitely," Jay concurred, and though the word was simple, it carried the weight of a thousand conversations yet to be had, a promise of tomorrow's discoveries.

As the evening deepened, the two sat in companionable silence, the bond between them as palpable as the warm breeze that whispered promises of endless possibilities and the magic of unexpected friendships.

19 - 19

The evening air was cooling as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a soft glow over the city. Ezer watched the water of the river catch the last light, turning it into a shimmering ribbon that snaked through the urban landscape. Beside him, Jay remained an enigma, his presence both comforting and mysterious.

"Take care. See you tomorrow?" Ezer's voice broke the silence, his words tentative yet hopeful, reaching out for something he could not fully grasp.

"Sure." Jay's reply was succinct, the familiar brevity of his responses now a thread in the fabric of their growing friendship.

Ezer stood up, feeling the rough texture of the bench beneath his palms as he pushed himself to his feet. In the dimming light, he saw the outline of Jay's face, sharp and certain, a stark contrast to the soft confusion that often weaved through his own thoughts. The simplicity of Jay's answer resonated with an odd sense of reassurance.

As they parted ways, the warmth of the day still clung to Ezer's skin, whispering of a summer that refused to be ordinary. The weight of expectations from his Asian parents, the constant drive for academic excellence, seemed distant now, like echoes muffled by the sound of the river's flow.

He walked back through the city, passing under streetlights that flickered on one by one, their glow illuminating the path home. Ezer felt the unfamiliar contours of a bond forming, a connection with someone who defied all predictions—someone who turned any attempt at categorization into folly.

With each step, Ezer's mind replayed the day's events—the movie, the quiet restaurant, the gadgets in Jay's backpack—each moment layering upon the next, building a story of unexpected companionship.

"Summer's weird," he whispered to himself, a small grin lifting the corners of his mouth. There was freedom in the unpredictability, a liberation from the rigorously plotted courses of his life. It was a season of new experiences, of unraveling the riddles wrapped around Jay, and perhaps, in doing so, unwrapping parts of himself long tucked away.

It had been a day marked by the mundane magic of movies and meals, yet it was colored by the thrilling unknown of Jay's world—a world that now beckoned Ezer with its silent siren call. Tomorrow promised more of this curious dance between reality and the mysteries that lay just beyond reach.

Ezer reached home with the moon riding high in the night sky, his heart beating to the rhythm of the summer's serendipitous song, eager for the dawn of another day.