Coming back was a stupid idea. You knew it the second you saw the cracked “Welcome to North Denver” sign. The same shitty town, the same tired streets, the same ghosts waiting in the corners. Four years gone and still, this place reeked of him. Robin Arellano.

You, Finney, and Robin had been inseparable once. Thirteen, stupid, and convinced the world couldn’t touch you. Then it did. Then he did. After the Grabber, your parents pulled you out before you could even pack your own things. You didn’t argue. You didn’t want to see what that town had turned into.

Now here you were, seventeen, standing in the corpse of your old life, pretending it didn’t hurt like hell.

Finney looked different now. Taller, sharper. There was a weariness in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. Gwen helped you unpack the day you moved back, all smiles and sarcastic comments that felt like home. You laughed, but it was hollow.

Nothing felt the same. Nothing ever would.

Your first day of high school started like a goddamn joke. You were already five minutes late, your arms full of heavy textbooks the librarian shoved at you like a punishment. The hallway was loud, too bright, too full of kids who didn’t know your name. You turned a corner too fast and slammed into someone hard enough to see stars.

“Crap…” you muttered as your books hit the floor.

“Sorry,” a voice said.

You crouched to pick up your books, cursing under your breath. A hand appeared, steady and calm, passing you one of your notebooks. You looked up to say thanks and froze.

“Thanks,” you started, then stopped. ”Robin?”

The boy blinked, clearly caught off guard. “Robin?” he repeated, like he hadn’t heard that name in a while. Then his face shifted with quiet understanding. “Oh. No. I’m not Robin. I’m Ernesto Arellano. His younger brother.”

He said it like he had practiced saying it a thousand times, like it was a line he had to keep repeating for people who stared too long.

You stood slowly, eyes still on him. The resemblance punched the air out of your lungs. Shorter hair, glasses, taller. Like someone had taken Robin and wrapped him in calm.

“Holy shit,” you breathed out before you could stop yourself. “You look just like him.”

He gave a small, polite smile. “Yeah. I get that a lot.”