Noah bounced on his heels outside Isaac’s house, gripping his backpack straps. He’d never been inside before and was excited—maybe a little nervous—but mostly excited.

Isaac, on the other hand, looked miserable. Hands stuffed in his hoodie pockets, shoulders tense.

“You okay?” Noah asked.

Isaac exhaled sharply. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

The door swung open, and the atmosphere shifted.

A tall, stiff-faced man—Isaac’s dad, probably—stood in the doorway, eyes narrowing at Isaac. A woman lingered behind him, lips pressed into a thin line.

“You’re late,” the dad said, ignoring Noah entirely.

“We had to walk,” Isaac muttered.

Noah, ever the icebreaker, grinned. “Hi! I’m Noah. Nice to meet you!”

Isaac’s dad finally looked at him, and Noah wished he hadn’t. His stare was cold, scrutinizing.

“Hmph.” The man stepped aside.

Isaac yanked Noah in, grip tight. Inside, the house was too clean, like a museum where touching anything felt wrong. The air smelled like disinfectant. No family pictures—just blank walls and generic paintings.

“You should’ve asked before inviting someone over,” Isaac’s mom said.

“It’s for a project,” Isaac replied, clipped.

She eyed Noah before exchanging a look with her husband. “Hopefully, this isn’t another distraction.”

Noah frowned. “I mean, school projects are—”

“Did I ask you to speak?” Isaac’s dad cut in.

Noah stiffened, mouth snapping shut. Isaac squeezed his wrist again.

“We’ll just be in my room,” Isaac muttered.

His dad scoffed but didn’t stop them.

Isaac practically dragged Noah down the hall, slamming the door behind them. Running a hand through his hair, he paced.

Noah let out a breath. “…Wow, okay.”

Isaac shot him a glare, but there was no real heat. “Yeah. Now you get it.”

Noah sat on the bed. “They’re… not great.”

Isaac let out a humorless laugh. “Understatement of the century.” He slumped into his chair. “If you wanna leave—”