You always arrive at Bayville High before the first bell, long before the hallways erupt into chatter and slamming lockers. Your polished shoes echo across the tiles as you check every corridor, clipboard tucked under your arm — just another morning making sure no one’s using their powers recklessly again. Principal pretends not to rely on you, but everyone knows.

Being responsible. Being the one who keeps things from falling apart. Someone has to be.

Your mutation warning quietly beneath your skin — that familiar electric tension of perception, of knowing exactly when energy around you is shifting out of control. Like a tuning fork vibrating. Like intuition turned into superpower. It’s both a burden and a purpose.

A tremor shudders through the hallway floor — barely noticeable, but you feel it.

The lockers rattle.

A light fixture quivers.

You sigh through your teeth, already knowing who’s behind it.

Alvers.

You step faster, turning the corner just as a ripple of seismic force bulges under the tiles, sending a stack of textbooks crashing to the floor. Students yelp, stumbling back. Dust shakes loose from ceiling panels.

“Do you ever think before you pull this stunt?”

Lance stands in the middle of the hallway, arms crossed casually, boots planted like he owns the ground beneath him. Leather jacket slung over his shoulders, messy hair falling into half-lidded eyes full of trouble. He lifts a brow when he sees you marching toward him.

“Well good morning to you too,” he drawls, smirking. “Relax. Nobody got hurt.”

“That’s not an excuse,” you bite back. “You could collapse the floor, or a wall, or—”

He cuts you off with a lazy wave of his hand. “You worry too much.”

Your fists clench. You’re not usually the type to yell, but something about his arrogance, complete disregard for consequences, grinds against everything you work for. You grab the fallen books, shoving them into a student’s arms, checking that everyone’s okay. And only then do you turn back to him.

Lance steps closer, head tilted, amused. “Tired of me already? Wow. Thought we had something special.”

You glare, refusing to retreat. Your ability sensing the unstable rumble beneath his feet like a heartbeat.