#dalton richards | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

angstylittleguy · 5 months ago

Text

Day 94

Bennett is still trapped in a time loop, one where Dalton experiences a growth spurt that exposes his powers, leaving Bennett to scramble to try to prevent it. // Part 1

tw: violence (implied), blood, trauma

character context: Bennett frequently gets stuck in time loops and the only way to get the loop to end is for him to survive the day. Dalton is a size-shifter whose height is affected by his emotions. Meiling is able to to move as quick as lightning, but the effects it has on her muscles and joints has long-term effects.

word count: 3.6k

-> In Which Everything Goes Wonderfully Wrong masterpost link: Here

-> character introductions and moodboards: Here

Bennett’s eyes snapped open and he involuntarily took a big gulp of air, breath spilling into his lungs. The clock on his bedside table flashed 4:28 am, its relentless, looping certainty mocking him. Day 94. Ninety-four times he had woken up in this room, to this exact moment, and the crushing weight of his task pressed heavier on his chest with every repetition.

He sat up, the springs of the mattress groaning under his shifting weight. His room was exactly as it always was—the corner of his favorite band poster was still peeling off the wall, notebook paper was still scattered across his desk, and Josiah’s bedroom was still painfully vacant—all frozen in place, like actors who never tired of performing the same scene.

But today felt different. Not because anything around him had changed, but because Bennett himself had. The frustration, the weariness, the endless strain of trying to fix a world that refused to stay fixed—it was all boiling over.

He stalked to the bathroom, flipping the light switch with his elbow. Bennett drew another tally mark on his skin with the sharpie marker. He couldn’t bear the sight of his reflection. He was unscarred. No scrapes, scratches, or bruises to show what he had been through. Bennett didn’t even have bags under his eyes.

He pulled on his hoodie and jeans with mechanical efficiency, his mind already racing. Focus, Bennett. No time to wallow. You need to try something new.

Everything he’d tried had failed. Talking to Dalton hadn’t worked. Calming him hadn’t worked. Fighting him hadn’t worked. It was like the loop itself was conspiring to unravel their lives, no matter what he did. Well, fuck you too, universe.

Bennett slipped out of his dorm room quietly. The hallways were dead silent, no one in their right minds awake this early. He pulled his hood over his head, yanking on the strings. Bennett went through everything from previous days—strategies, dead ends, desperate theories—but none of it had gotten him anywhere.

Bennett left his dorm building, the chilly, November morning air biting at his nose. His eyes were focused on his feet as he walked, listening to the sound of his shoes on asphalt. He didn’t need to know where he was going, his feet carried him on muscle memory now. They knew the way to Dalton’s house even if Bennett was sleep-walking. He had made the trek for nearly eighty days now.

The thought made him slow to stop.

He couldn’t stop Dalton if he didn’t understand what was happening.

Bennett was done winging it. He’d treated the loop like a puzzle to solve with brute force: fix Dalton, stop the chaos, and the loop ends. But ninety-four days of failure said otherwise. Maybe there was something he missed.

Bennett changed course. The library wouldn’t open for hours, but Bennett knew how to get in. He’d done it before, back when he thought the loop was just a weird fluke that would fix itself after a few days.

The main doors were locked, as expected. Bennett ducked around to the back, where the staff entrance was. The lock was old, and he jimmied it open with practiced ease.

The library’s faint, musty smell hit him as he stepped inside, the dim glow from the emergency lights casting long shadows across the rows of bookshelves.

His fingers brushed over the spines of books he hadn’t thought to look at before: physics, philosophy, mythology. He didn’t know what he was looking for, exactly, but maybe that was the point.

He pulled a stack of books off the shelves and carried them to a table, dropping into a chair. The first book he opened was dense and filled with diagrams he barely understood, but he forced himself to read.

He found a sketch of a brain surrounded by looping arrows, annotated with theories about subconscious imprinting and emotional residue.

“Subconscious...” he muttered, tapping the paper with his index finger. He’d read the word a dozen times, but it hadn’t clicked. If the loop reset physical states and erased conscious memory, then what wasn’t being reset?

“The hippocampus processes emotional stimuli... subconscious responses to trauma can persist despite amnesia…”

His breath hitched. Trauma. That was it. The loop was only designed to reset surface-level states—bruises healed, memories vanished—but emotions, instincts, and stress responses weren’t so easily erased. They were scars on the soul, not the skin.

Bennett’s pulse raced. It wasn’t just the loop causing this—it was the feedback cycle. Every loop compounded the emotional residue left behind, a snowball growing larger and larger until it was impossible to stop.

Dalton’s powers—triggered by emotion—were accelerating the effect.

He raced to the front desk of the library and searched for a pen. Bennett pulled up his hoodie and scribbled notes upside down on his stomach:

Subconscious retains residue → emotional imprint amplifies.

Dalton’s powers tied to fear/guilt → loop resets physical but not emotional.

Every reset = bigger snowball.

“Which means...” Bennett’s voice trembled as he traced the chain of logic. “Every loop makes Dalton more unstable. If this keeps going, I won’t be able to stop him.”

The thought made his chest tighten. He ran a hand through his hair, forcing himself to focus. If this memory glitch was amplifying the emotional residue, then reversing that process might stabilize Dalton. But how?

The faint sound of footsteps snapped him out of his thoughts. He froze, listening intently as the sound grew louder, then stopped. A figure stepped out from behind a shelf, and Bennett’s heart skipped a beat.

It was a girl, probably his age, with shoulder-length dark hair tucked behind her ears. She wore an oversized jacket and sneakers, her hands stuffed casually into her pockets. Her gaze landed on him, curious but unafraid.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, tilting her head. “The library’s closed.

Bennett stared at her for a moment, the pen still clutched in his hand. He lowered his shirt. His first instinct was to lie or make an excuse. But then, he thought, Why bother? She wouldn’t remember this tomorrow. None of them ever did.

“I’m stuck in a time loop,” he said bluntly, dropping the pen onto the desk. “Day ninety-four.”

Instead of the confusion or disbelief he expected, the girl just nodded, as if he’d told her something as ordinary as the weather forecast. “That’s rough,” she responded.

Bennett blinked. “And why have you broken into the library at five in the morning?”

The girl just shrugged. “Wanted to see if I could.”

An awkward beat passed.

“So,” the girl finally said, “do you want any help?”

“Help?”

“With the whole time loop thing.”

Bennett frowned, suspicious. “You believe me? Just like that?”

“Yeah, why not? If you’re lying, whatever. If you’re telling the truth, helping you get out of a time loop is probably the coolest thing I’ve done in a while.”

Her logic was unsettlingly calm, but Bennett couldn’t deny the flicker of relief he felt at her offer. Ninety-four days of carrying this alone had frayed his nerves, and though he didn’t trust her yet, it was tempting to let someone else share the load for once.

Bennett studied her. The faint emergency lighting cast long shadows across her face, but her expression was relaxed, even playful. She looked as if she were discussing a movie plot, not the unraveling of reality.

“What’s your name?” he asked cautiously.

“Meiling,” she replied. “And yours?”

“Bennett.” He took a deep breath. “Well, Meiling, if you’re serious about helping, I don’t know how much use you’ll be. I’ve been at this for three months, and nothing’s worked. Unless you’ve got a PhD in physics or magic tricks, I’m not holding my breath.”

“Wow, three months?” She whistled low. “That’s a long time to be stuck in one day. What’s the deal? You have to save the world or something?”

“Something like that.”

Meiling tapped a finger on her chin. “Alright, hit me with it. What’s the situation?”

Bennett hesitated. The idea of explaining everything felt exhausting, but her easy acceptance of his predicament was oddly comforting. Maybe talking it through with someone new could help.

“Fine. Long story short: there’s this guy. He’s… unstable. Every time the day resets, it gets worse. I’ve tried talking him down, restraining him, everything. Nothing sticks because the loop resets it all.”

“Sounds like a tough gig,” she said. “So, what’s your next move?”

Bennett frowned. “That’s the problem. I don’t have one. I was hoping to figure something out here.” He lifted his shirt, showing off the notes he scrawled on his stomach with the pen. “But so far, all I’ve got is a theory that emotional residue doesn’t reset like everything else.”

“Sorry, I’m not trying to change the subject, but why are you writing all over yourself?”

“The ink on my skin doesn’t reset with the loop. If I wrote this down on paper, I’d just lose it tomorrow.”

Meiling raised her eyebrows. “Smart. A little weird, but smart.” She put her hands on her hips. “Alright, Bennett. You’ve got emotional residue, an unstable friend, and ninety-four failures under your belt. Let’s make sure the number doesn’t keep adding up.”

Bennett snorted. “Easy for you to say. I’ve tried almost everything.”

“Well, surely not everything. Explain it to me. What do we know so far?”

He let out a long breath. “Alright, I’ll explain, but you’re probably going to think I’m insane.”

Meiling leaned against the edge of the desk, crossing her arms. “Try me.”

“Every day, I wake up at 4:28. No matter what happens during the day—no matter what I do, or what I try—it always ends the same way.”

Meiling tilted her head. “The same how?”

“I die,” Bennett said flatly. His voice didn’t waver, but he shoved his hands in his hoodie pocket. “Every single day. Sometimes it’s quick. Sometimes it’s… not. But no matter what, the loop resets the moment I die, and I wake up in my room like none of it ever happened.”

Meiling’s brows furrowed slightly, but she didn’t interrupt.

“It’s been ninety-four days,” Bennett continued, his tone bitter. “Ninety-four times I’ve watched everything fall apart. Ninety-four times I’ve tried to stop it, to fix things, and every time I fail. I keep dying, and the world keeps spinning like it doesn’t even care.”

He looked up at her, waiting for the skepticism, the pity, the disbelief. But Meiling just nodded thoughtfully, her lips pressing into a thin line.

“You die every day?”

“Yeah.” Bennett said, his voice edged with bitterness. “Every time I bite it, the loop starts over. It’s like the universe has decided my death is some kind of checkpoint.”

“That sounds like absolute hell,” she said.

“Tell me about it.”

Meiling frowned, leaning forward slightly. “So, if you stayed alive—”

“—The loop wouldn’t reset,” Bennett finished.

“But if you know you’re going to die, why don’t you just… not leave your room? Stay put, ride it out.”

Bennett shook his head, a harsh laugh escaping him. “Believe me, I’ve tried. But I can’t bring myself to do it. That’s not an option right now. Not with Dalton getting worse every day. If someone finds out about him, or if he hurts someone... I can’t let that happen.”

“Dalton?”

He nodded. “He’s my friend.”

Meiling hummed. “What happens?”

Bennett hesitated. “It’s complicated. I don’t even fully understand it myself, but it’s bad. And the longer this loop goes on, the worse it gets. I’ve seen it spiral out of control too many times already. I have to stop him, but every time I try, I die before I can make it work.”

Meiling was quiet for a moment, her fingers drumming idly against her arm. Then she straightened up. “Okay,” she said, her tone brisk and decisive. “So, here’s what we’re going to do: we’re going to stop Dalton from doing whatever this terrible thing is, and we’re going to make sure you don’t die in the process. Deal?”

Bennett blinked at her. “That’s what I’ve been doing for the past ninety-four days.”

“But now you have me.”

Bennett didn’t know whether to feel relieved or uneasy. Meiling’s confidence was infectious, but her involvement complicated everything. People finding out about Dalton’s abilities is exactly what Bennett has been trying to prevent for the past ninety-four days. Telling Meiling what was going on seemed like another problem he’d have to figure out later.

“Right,” Bennett muttered, glancing at her. “You’re all in, huh?”

Meiling shrugged. “You’ve been stuck in some twisted time prison for three months, fighting to stop a catastrophe. Someone’s gotta have your back.” She tilted her head, studying him. “Unless you think I’m just going to get in your way.”

“I don’t know. It’s not that simple.”

“Then make it simple,” Meiling said. “You trust me enough to explain the whole you-die-every-day thing, but not enough to tell me what we’re walking into?”

Bennett chewed on his lip.

“You said Dalton’s your friend,” Meiling added. “If he’s in trouble, wouldn’t he want help?”

Bennett laughed bitterly. “You don’t know Dalton.”

Meiling folded her arms. “Then introduce me.”

“It’s not that easy. He… he doesn’t trust people. Especially strangers.”

“I don’t need him to trust me,” Meiling said, her voice calm but firm. “I just need him to trust you.”

Bennett swallowed the lump in his throat. Finally, he nodded. “Alright, let’s go.”

...

They reached the corner where Dalton’s house came into view. Bennett stopped, glancing over at Meiling.

“This is it?” she asked, her voice light but her eyes scanning the house warily.

“Yeah.”

They approached the door, Bennett already preparing himself for a disaster. He knocked.

Dalton’s footsteps could be heard from outside. Each pounding step made Bennett’s heart sink lower and lower into his stomach. The door opened; Dalton stood in the frame with a confused expression. He already looked a couple inches taller than usual.

“Bennett?” He asked, eyeing him suspiciously. “What are you doing here?”

Dalton’s eyes cut to Meiling. “And who’s your friend?”

“This is Meiling,” Bennett told him, already uncertain. “We, uh—”

Dalton cut him off. “Come inside, I’m kind of in a rush. I’ve got somewhere to be.”

Bennett exchanged a look with Meiling, then took a breath. “That’s actually why we’re here. I really think you shouldn’t go to your showcase.”

Dalton paused. Bennett could see the confusion turning in his eyes. “Why not?”

“Just trust me on this,” Bennett said, trying to sound confident. “Something isn't right. If you go—”

“I can’t just not go. It’s worth half my grade.”

“I really think you should skip.”

Dalton’s lips twitched into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “It’s not just about me. My group and I have been working on this project for months. They’re counting on me to be there. If I don’t show up, I screw over everyone else, too.”

Meiling leaned against the wall, arms folded. “It’s not screwing them over if it’s for a good reason.”

“And what reason would that be?” Dalton asked, his eyes narrowing.

Bennett glanced over at Meiling. He couldn’t mention Dalton’s powers in front of her, that would send him over the edge for sure.

“Just listen to me,” Bennett pleased. “You don’t understand how serious this is.”

“You show up with some random girl to tell me—what? That I’m supposed to ditch the showcase I’ve been killing myself over? Come on.”

Meiling leaned against the wall, watching them carefully. “No one’s saying you have to drop the ball. Just—can’t you postpone for a few hours? Something’s off, and it’s safer if you stay here.”

Dalton paused, his bag slung over one shoulder. His brow furrowed as he glanced between them. “Safer? What’s going on, Bennett? You’re acting weird. And who even is she?”

“She’s… helping me,” Bennett said quickly, though the vagueness didn’t seem to ease Dalton’s suspicion. “You’ve just got to trust me, okay? If you leave, something bad will happen.”

Dalton hesitated, his grip tightening on the strap of his bag. “Bennett, I do trust you. But this—this doesn’t make sense.”

Before Bennett could respond, Dalton winced and staggered, grabbing at his chest. His entire body twitched as if something deep inside him had suddenly shifted.

“Dalton?” Bennett’s voice rose, alarmed. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t… I don’t know.” Dalton clutched at the doorframe, his fingers leaving faint indentations in the wood. His shoulders seemed broader, his posture subtly changing. Then his frame started to expand—gradual at first, but quickly gaining momentum. His height surged upward, his arms stretching unnaturally long, muscles swelling beneath his skin.

“Dalton!” Bennett shouted, stepping forward. “You need to stop it.”

“I’m trying!” Dalton’s voice cracked, deeper than before. His knees buckled as he tried to crouch, but his growing limbs collided with the walls and ceiling, splintering wood and drywall.

“Bennett, what’s happening?” Meiling’s voice was sharp, panic creeping in.

“Just stay back!” Bennett shouted, his focus fixed on Dalton. “Dalton, you have to calm down!”

“I—I can’t!” Dalton’s arms flailed as he tried to brace himself, one of his massive hands knocking over a side table and sending it skittering across the room. His legs stretched awkwardly, one knee slamming into the wall and leaving a deep dent. The house groaned under the strain of his ever-expanding form.

“Bennett, what do we do?” Meiling’s voice was high and tight, barely masking her panic. She dodged another one of Dalton’s flailing limbs as it crashed into a lamp, sending shards of glass scattering across the floor.

Bennett’s mind raced. “Dalton, listen to me!” he shouted, stepping closer despite the chaos. “You need to focus. Breathe. Try to stop yourself!”

“I don’t know how!” Dalton cried, his voice booming now, full of raw fear. His enormous frame hunched awkwardly in the cramped room, limbs jerking in desperate, uncoordinated movements. One arm swung wide, knocking into the wall and tearing it open like paper.

The ground trembled beneath their feet as Dalton grew larger still, his back pressing against the ceiling. The room itself seemed to shrink around him.

“We need to get out of here,” Meiling yelled, grabbing Bennett’s arm, but Dalton’s rapidly expanding leg slammed into the floor, blocking the exit.

“Dalton!” Bennett yelled again, but his voice cracked with the strain. He could barely hear himself over the groaning of the structure. Dalton’s head tilted toward him, his massive, terrified eyes locking on Bennett’s face.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Dalton said, his voice trembling with desperation. “I don’t… I can’t control this!”

The words had barely left his mouth when a massive piece of ceiling collapsed, hurtling straight toward Bennett.

“Bennett, move!” Meiling shouted. In a blur of motion, she darted forward faster than humanly possible. One moment she was across the room, and the next she was at Bennett’s side, pulling him out of harm’s way just as the debris slammed into the ground where he’d stood.

The two tumbled to the floor, Bennett gasping for breath as his mind struggled to process what had just happened. “What the fuck?” he wheezed, staring at Meiling with wide eyes. “How did you—what—what was that?”

Meiling didn’t answer. She didn’t have time. Dalton’s leg shifted again, the massive limb sweeping toward them like a wrecking ball. She grabbed Bennett, hauling him to his feet, but her own movement was too quick and disjointed. One of Dalton’s enormous arms crashed down, pinning her against the wall. She struggled, useless against the sheer size of him.

“Meiling!” Bennett shouted, scrambling toward her, but Dalton’s foot shifted again, and the ground beneath Bennett gave way. He stumbled, landing hard on his back as a massive chunk of debris splintered from above and came crashing down.

“Bennett, no!” Meiling screamed, her voice raw as she strained against the massive limb trapping her. She pushed with everything she had, but Dalton’s weight was too much. She was stuck, helpless to move as the wreckage crushed Bennett beneath its weight.

Dalton froze, his massive form trembling as he realized what had happened. “No… no…” His voice was a whisper, full of horror, though it echoed like a thunderclap through the ruined room. “I didn’t mean to…”

Meiling’s breath hitched, and for a moment, the world seemed to go silent except for the sound of Dalton’s ragged breathing.

Bennett lay there, unmoving, the world pressing in on him from all sides. His vision blurred at the edges, darkness creeping in as the sound of Dalton’s sobs became distant. Everything felt muffled, like the chaos unfolding around him was happening underwater, the weight of his own body sinking him deeper into nothingness. The pain in his chest was overwhelming, suffocating. He couldn’t hold on anymore.

And then, everything stopped.

It was as if the universe itself had decided to freeze, to hold its breath. The weight of the debris pressing down on him seemed to fade, the pain dulling into something almost unbearable, yet distant. Time warped, stretched like taffy, and for a moment, Bennett felt as if he were drifting, floating in a space without up or down.

And then...

Bennett’s chest heaved, a sharp, jagged inhale ripping through him. Oxygen burned as it filled his lungs, the rawness of it grounding him back into reality.

The room was still. The weight of his body sank into the softness of the bed, the quiet of the early morning settling around him like a blanket.

His eyes fluttered open. The sun had not yet risen, the day still untouched by the nightmare that had just passed. Bennett was alive. But somehow, everything had changed.

tag list: @sandwichtheuhh / @gt-daboss / @kazuyumi1412 / @ewmoodboardblorbo / @isumietokyo / @litenmyra / @smol-n-smol / @thesillygoofygoober / @lady-bee-fechin/ @werifesteria20/ @liconich / @wadling-of-wadlimar / @chuuyas-height / @r0bi-n / @abygails / @pinapok / @cryingbreaskfastfriends

34 notes · View notes

angstylittleguy · 6 months ago

Text

The 53rd Day

Bennett is trapped in a time loop, one where Dalton experiences a growth spurt in public, leaving Bennett to scramble to try to prevent it. // Part 2

tw: blood and injury, anxiety, implied death

word count: 2k

-> In Which Everything Goes Wonderfully Wrong masterpost link: Here

-> character introductions and moodboards: Here

Bennett jerked awake, gasping for air like he had been dragged underwater. His lungs burned in his chest and his head spun with vertigo. He was hot, his clothes sticking to his skin uncomfortably. He tore off his shirt as he tried to steady his breathing.

The sun hadn’t even risen yet. Bennett didn’t have to check the time to know it was 4:28 am. It’s always 4:28 am. It’s been 4:28 am every time he woke up for the past 53 mornings. It will probably be 4:28 am tomorrow. And it will be 4:28 am the morning after tomorrow. Bennett thought he was going to be sick.

He threw himself out of bed, slinging the bed sheet that still clung to his legs onto the floor. Bennett didn’t bother to shower, not yet at least. He was out of soap. He had been out of soap for 53 days. No matter how many times he went to the store, no matter how many bars of soap he bought, he would still be out of soap tomorrow.

The bathroom light was blinding, a harsh yellow against the darkness of the early morning. Bennett stared numbly at himself in the mirror, the black tally marks littering his arms like ugly stains. He picked up the sharpie he left by the sink and removed the cap with his teeth. He added another tally on the bicep of his left arm.

His stomach was twisted with knots. Anxiety gnawed at his flesh. Bennett didn’t know what to do.

He wished Josiah was here. Of course, his cursed time loop started the day after Josiah left campus to visit home. The universe had its own unique way of making him miserable.

The store didn’t open until 8:00 am and Bennett had four hours to come up with a plan. Nothing he’d tried thus far had worked, but he had to keep trying if he ever wanted to make it out of this alive. And he meant that quite literally.

He got dressed, putting on the same yellow hoodie that he had worn since the loop started. It never got dirty, so why not? The mud stains, the sweat, the spilled drinks, and the blood had always disappeared when the day reset. No one remembered the failures, the embarrassment, and the near-death experiences (or were they simply death experiences?) but Bennett, and he had nothing to show for all the horrors he’d been through.

Bennett just wished he could go back to sleep. The thought had occurred to him before, many, many times. But no, he couldn’t. He had something important to take care of.

Bennett had been sitting outside of Dalton’s house for three and a half hours before Dalton finally opened the door. He jumped at the sight of the Bennett sitting on his front step, instantly growing a few inches. He put a hand to his chest, trying to calm himself down before he could grow anymore.

“Shit, Bennett,” Dalton said, voice weak like he was out of breath. “What the hell are you doing here? And how long have you been here?”

“Since 4:30.” Bennett stood now, craning his head back to look Dalton in the eye.

“And you didn’t knock because?”

“I figured you needed your beauty rest.” Bennett patted Dalton on the chest. “And I needed time to think.”

“Okay, I don’t know what you’re up to, but I really don’t have time for whatever it is. I’ve gotta…” Dalton’s voice trailed off and he ducked back into his house.

Bennett followed him inside, closing the door behind him and lingering in the living room. Dalton’s voice called out from the bathroom: “Do I look too unnaturally tall to go out?”

“Yes,” Bennett responded, knowing that no matter what he said it wouldn’t change Dalton’s mind. “You’re like, six-ten right now, dude.”

Dalton groaned. “I don’t really have a choice; I need to go.”

He appeared from the bathroom, stalking down the hallway. “It’ll probably wear off after a while, I’m sure it will be fine.”

“Yeah, except it won’t,” Bennett muttered, watching as Dalton grabbed a faded backpack off the floor and slung it over one shoulder. “Where exactly are you going this early anyway?”

Bennett, obviously, knew the answer already.

“It’s nothing, just something for class.”

“Why won’t you just tell me you’re going to your art showcase?”

Dalton’s height seemed to waver with the question, his head nearly brushing the low ceiling now.

Bennett pinched the bridge of his nose. “Dalton, this is exactly why I’m here. Something is wrong with you. Something is wrong with everything. And if we don’t figure it out, we’re just gonna keep doing this dance until one of us—” He stopped himself, his voice catching. “Until one of us can’t anymore.”

Dalton turned back, his face tight with irritation but softened by a flicker of concern. “What are you talking about?”

Bennett hesitated. He hadn’t wanted to do this now, not before he’d had time to think things through. But there was no other way. “We’re stuck, Dalton. Or, I’m stuck. In a loop. Every day, the same shit happens—me waking up at an ungodly hour of the morning, you freaking out and growing in public—and every day, I have to start over like none of it ever happened.”

Dalton stared at him, his expression unreadable. Then he laughed, a sharp, humorless sound. “You’re kidding.”

“I wish I was.”

Dalton ran both hands through his hair, exhaling hard out of his nose. “I can’t just not go,” he finally said. “It’s worth half my grade.”

“Who shows up for school events on Saturdays anyway?” Bennett countered, trying to lighten the mood at least a little. “You should skip, I’m sure everyone will understand.”

“It’s not just about me. My group and I have been working on this project for months. They’re counting on me to be there. If I don’t show up, I screw over everyone else, too.”

“Look, I get it,” Bennett said after a pause. “You don’t want to let anyone down. But maybe—”

“No ‘maybe,’” Dalton interrupted, grabbing his keys from the counter. “I’m going. I have to. I can’t just stop living because of this… whatever this is.”

Bennett stared at him, torn between wanting to argue and knowing it wouldn’t do any good. “Fine. But I’m warning you. It’s not pretty.”

“Noted,” Dalton said dryly, already heading for the door.

The drive to campus was tense, Dalton practically vibrating with nervous energy. Bennett sat silently in the passenger seat of his car keeping an eye on him, half-expecting a sudden growth spurt at any moment.

By the time they parked outside the building, Dalton’s breathing was shallow, his grip tight on the steering wheel. Groups of students and professors were heading inside, some just milling around the entrance.

“Last chance to bail,” Bennett said quietly.

Dalton shot him a look. “Not happening.”

He climbed out of the car, slamming the door shut. Bennett sighed, leaning against the hood as Dalton disappeared into the crowd. He watched him go; shoulders stiff but head held high. Bennett gave him a moment—gave himself a moment—before he followed him inside, trying to prepare for what was going to happen.

...

Bennett stood at the back of the room, his gaze fixed on Dalton as he fidgeted nervously at the podium. Dalton’s eyes flickered toward the crowd, his face pale, a sheen of sweat already forming on his forehead. Bennett could tell he was barely holding it together. He’d seen Dalton like this before—flustered and anxious—but this time it seemed worse. The anxiety radiated off him in waves.

Dalton cleared his throat and adjusted the microphone, his hands shaking. “Uh, hi, I’m Dalton Richards. We… um.” His voice wavered.

Bennett’s heart clenched at the sight. He’d never seen Dalton this nervous, and they were all depending on him. But Dalton’s words were faltering. The audience watched, waiting, and Dalton seemed to shrink under the weight of their expectation.

The lights above glared down like a hot spotlight, making Dalton squint. He gestured toward the projected image of their mural, and Bennett could see his hands trembling. “Our work reflects transformation. And, uh, perseverance,” Dalton stammered.

Bennett’s stomach dropped. He wanted to do something, anything, to make Dalton feel better, but all he could do was watch.

Then, a faint cough echoed through the room, and it was like a switch flipped. Dalton’s eyes went wide, his breathing shallow. The sound of the cough ricocheted off the walls, and Bennett could see Dalton's face twist in discomfort. His chest heaved with each breath, and something in his posture changed.

Bennett swallowed, already knowing what was happening. His heart began to hammer in his chest. Dalton’s whole body was tense, his hands gripping the podium, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I—” Dalton’s words broke off as his chest tightened. The look on his face shifted, panic flashing in his eyes. Bennett’s pulse quickened as he watched his friend stumble, his knees buckling beneath him.

Dalton was growing. His limbs, his torso—everything about him was expanding, elongating in a way that defied reason.

“Are you alright?” one of Dalton’s groupmates whispered, their voice tinged with fear.

But Dalton wasn’t alright. His breaths were ragged, his body shifting uncontrollably as his height surged. The stage groaned under the strain, and the crowd murmured in alarm. Bennett could see the chaos spreading, whispers turning into shouts.

“Dalton!” Bennett called out, pushing through the crowd. His feet carried him toward the stage without thinking, his heart pounding in his ears. He had to get to him. He had to help.

But as he reached the front, Dalton's body surged again. He went down to his knees with a bone-shattering crash. The stage splintered beneath him, sending a jagged piece of wood flying toward Bennett.

Bennett didn’t have time to move. The wood struck him with brutal force, digging into his side. Pain exploded through him as he staggered back, clutching his ribs. Blood soaked his shirt almost immediately.

“Bennett!” Dalton's voice rang out, desperate and raw, but it was too late. Bennett felt his knees give way, the world spinning as he crumpled to the ground. The pain in his side was overwhelming, but worse was the look on Dalton’s face—horror, guilt, and fear all mixed together.

Bennett tried to focus, but his vision was blurry. The world around him seemed to fade as he felt himself slipping, his breath coming in shallow gasps. His hand pressed against the wound, but the blood kept flowing, too much too quickly.

The shrieks of the crowd were distant now, a faint blur of noise. All Bennett could focus on was Dalton, towering above him. His friend’s eyes were wide, panicked, but there was nothing he could do. Bennett couldn’t speak. He couldn’t move.

He just... couldn’t breathe.

Everything felt like it was happening underwater, the edges of his vision darkening. He couldn’t hold on anymore.

And then, everything stopped. The world went still. The pain, the panic, the crowd—it all slowed. Time seemed to stretch, and for a moment, Bennett felt weightless. It was like a second passed, or maybe an eternity. He couldn’t tell.

And then...

Bennett gasped, his chest jerking with a sharp intake of air. The sudden rush of oxygen burned in his lungs, but he was awake—alive. His hand still clutched his side, but when he pulled away there was no blood, no sign of injury. He was in his bed and the sun had yet to rise.

Part 2