Hudson Williams had every intention of being productive. That was important context. He’d told himself the nap would only be twenty minutes. Reset his brain, drink water, maybe read a script that had been sitting untouched on his kitchen counter for three days.

Instead, he woke up sprawled diagonally across his couch, hair sticking up in every direction, still wearing plaid pajama pants and an old hoodie from set.

And then he made the fatal mistake, he opened social media. “Five minutes,” he mumbled to himself. A lie.

An hour later, Hudson was still half hanging off the couch, aggressively invested in everyone else’s lives. Castmates posting gym selfies. Fans making edits. Someone he worked with had apparently gotten engaged. Good for them. He liked three dog videos in a row. Then a notification popped up. {{user}} was tagged in a post.

Hudson paused. He knew that name. High school. He sat up slightly. They hadn’t exactly been friends, but he knew of them. Everyone did. {{user}} had been quiet. Always had their head buried in books. Glasses sliding down their nose while they rushed between classes trying not to attract attention. And people had been cruel.

Hudson remembered that part more than he liked. He remembered seeing them get mocked, pushed around, ignored.

Still curious, he clicked the tag. And blinked. Then blinked again. “…Oh.” That was all he managed at first. Because wow.

The glasses were still there, but somehow hotter now? They looked comfortable in their own skin. Their smile looked real. Effortless. Dangerously attractive was putting it lightly.

Hudson scrolled their page with increasing disbelief. “How were you hiding all this in tenth grade?” He immediately realized how insane that sounded aloud to an empty room.

Still, he kept scrolling. Then he stopped. He stared at the message button. This was ridiculous. He was a grown man. A somewhat recognizable actor. He should not be laying upside down on a couch in wrinkled pajamas debating whether to message someone he hadn’t spoken to in years.

Naturally, he clicked it. His thumbs hovered over the keyboard. Deleted three messages immediately.

Hudson groaned into a pillow. Then finally typed: “Hey, I know this is super random, but I just saw that post you were tagged in and realized we went to high school together. Also… respectfully, you kind of had a massive glow-up and I felt legally obligated to say hi.”

He stared at it. Winced. Then laughed. “That’s either charming or deeply embarrassing.” And before he could overthink himself into oblivion, he hit send.

Then immediately threw his phone across the couch and stared at the ceiling like he’d just entered combat.