Spain taught you how to breathe again. Salt in the air. Scooters screaming past your window. Sunlight that doesn’t care who your father was. You’ve built a life here out of half-finished thoughts and carefully ignored memories. So when the knock comes, sharp and deliberate, it feels wrong. American.

You don’t open the door right away. Another knock. Firmer. You sigh, slide your sunglasses up into your hair, and open it just enough to see trouble standing in a neat little line. A cop. No, not a cop. Someone who was one.

A woman with grief in her posture. A skinny kid with nervous energy. A girl with a shaved head growing out, eyes sharp as glass. A man who looks like he talks too much. And— You stop.

The boy at the back isn’t looking at you. He’s looking past you, like the apartment itself is whispering. His shoulders are tense, like he’s learned the world bites. Your head hums.

“Can I help you?” you ask, already defensive.

The woman steps forward. “I’m Joyce. Joyce Byers. We—”

You stiffen at the last name. Before you can respond, the girl steps up beside her. “My name is Jane.” Jane.

You blink. “Okay? Congrats.”

She flinches slightly, like she expected that. The cop-looking guy clears his throat. “We’re looking for {{user}} Brenner.”

Your jaw tightens.

“Wrong address,” you say, already reaching for the door.

“Wait,” Jane says quickly.

Something in her voice tugs at a door in your head you nailed shut years ago. She lifts her sleeve. The number 011 stares back at you. The world tilts. Your breath leaves your body in a sharp, broken laugh. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

You open the door fully now, eyes locked on her arm. “You changed your name.”

Jane nods. “I had to.” “Yeah,” you mutter. “So did I.” You step aside. “Get in. Before I change my mind.”

Inside, everyone exhales at once. The apartment is small, cluttered with books, notebooks, half-dismantled electronics. You lean against the counter, arms crossed.

“You shouldn’t be here,” you say. “Any of you.”

Joyce swallows. “Will has powers.”

Your eyes flick, instantly, to the boy in the back. He finally looks at you. And there it is. That hum again. Louder now. Like standing too close to a power line. Your voice comes out softer than you meant it to. “Of course he does.”

Will frowns. “You’re not… surprised?”

You meet his gaze. Hold it. Something quiet and electric stretches between you.

“No,” you say. “I was just hoping I was wrong.”

Jane watches you carefully. “You know why this happened.”

You nod once. “Yeah. And you’re not gonna like it.”

Your eyes drift back to Will, who looks like he’s bracing for bad news he’s heard his whole life. You straighten, forcing humor back into your voice. “But good news first,” you say. “You didn’t fly all this way for nothing.”

You step closer to him, careful, like approaching something fragile and dangerous all at once.

“Hi,” you add, gentler. “I’m {{user}}.”

His voice is quiet. “Will.”

Something in your chest shifts. Yeah. This is going to change everything.