— layer family home in portland, oregon, september 2022

Only the seemingly faraway sound of knocking coming from behind him made him realize that he didn't have all day to do this. Prematurely, he retracted his sight from his familiars, causing the whiplash to throw him back unexpectedly.

With a loud crashing sound, the boy practically shot off the bed and hit the floor, blinking away tears and disorientation upon impact. After a few seconds of trying to come to terms with his situation, he slowly craned his neck to look at the still locked wooden bedroom door, as the world stood upside down.

"Isaac?" He heard his mother's faint voice from the other side of said door. "I heard a noise. Are you alright?"

She sounded worried. "I'm fine. I just… dropped something." There was annoyance audible in his tone - he was ticked off by his own clumsiness.

"Dropped…? Sure, if you say so." She didn't seem convinced, yet clearly didn't feel like interrogating him about it. "Dinner is ready, so come down if you are fine."

Granted, he hadn't used this technique after initially realizing how it worked. He had simply assumed he would master it, since it wasn't anything too special – more annoying than hard to do. If anything, he used it once, but never to this extent.

There wasn't anything to it and he never thought strongly about it either. It was simply something that he knew he was able to do, so he would do it, as it was the better choice in this situation.

Now he felt betrayed by his own naivety. He couldn't have known it would end in him making a fool of himself, even if it was only in the company of his familiars. That was it – he decided he would never use this method of utilizing his powers again. That would surely solve the problem.

With that kind of resolve, he finally got up from the floor and fixed his clothes, so he could safely follow his mother into the kitchen. It wasn't a long way down, yet long enough for him to notice things in the hallway.

The pictures along the stairs have been rearranged in the short time he had been inside his room. She had changed some of the older pictures and put up some new ones in their place. It was Ellen's way to commemorate another year passing by.

She would always do that, whenever Isaac's birthday finally arrived, which was the last birthday in the family within the year.

As they passed the well illuminated living space, entering the kitchen with their dining table, he was already able to smell the candles that burned on top of a dark blue decorated cake. No matter how you looked at it, it looked a little off.

Since a few years ago, Isaac's mother, Ellen, had the habit of baking her sons' birthday cakes herself, saying she wanted to put in the extra effort when celebrating their existence. It was a somewhat tedious habit, as Isaac thought, but seeing as it made her happy, even if he couldn't get behind it, he didn't try to stop her.

Still, she kind of consistently managed not to get any better at the task itself after all those years. In a way, it was amazing. The way the frosting looked like she had put it on while full drunk and the uneven color, as well as the fact that there was no other decor on the cake, made the attraction look even sadder. Looking at it twice, it felt like even the candles were depressed, sitting on top of a black hole.

These were things he never quite understood about the human race as a whole. There was this innate craving for sentimental gimmicks like these – same with the pictures on the staircase wall. It was cute, in his opinion, but nothing more than that.

A human's life is fleeting, making the few years all the more special and noteworthy to them; they always tried to keep things and memorize them. Sometimes he felt like they forgot how to live at the same time, as they tried so hard not to forget even a minute. A curious, downright funny behavior.

Ironically enough, it was the greatest reason for him remembering the olden times every year. His mother was so much like Veronica in this aspect, he felt it was uncanny. And it made him smile warmly just a bit.

He only faintly noticed the silence that fell around the table, as he looked up and saw his mother's surprised face, which she quickly knew to wipe off and replace with a smile of her own.

"It's nice to see you enjoy the party, even if it's just a tiny one," she said, and his father was beaming at him from beside her. Only Riley seemed out of sorts somehow.

Despite everyone being aware of just how awful this creation was going to taste once they actually tried it, they sat around the table with happy expressions nonetheless, letting the baker push the tray softly in Isaac's direction.

"Don't forget to make a wish," she added cheerfully.

It wasn't as if he hadn't ever thought of leaving this place behind a few times until now, but there were things he still wanted to do and living a peaceful life wasn't as easy as it used to be, either. This was a comfortable way of living.

Well, his last life didn't end as uneventful as he would have wished for, but at least he grew old and weary in peace, and that's just what he was going for in this round as well.

He diligently wished for just that and blew out the candles to fulfill what he had been asked to do, even if he didn't truly understand how a bunch of molten wax was going to help him with it.

Satisfied anyway, Ellen cut the cake and put a piece on each of their respective plates. Seeing Christian, his father, and Riley, his brother, they also showed slight hesitation before actually taking a bite of the sweet dessert in front of them.

One would have wanted to congratulate them for not showing any further signs of suffering while eating, if only that wouldn't have been suspicious in itself.

He locked eyes with his father, while turning off his taste buds. The calm, middle-aged man could only wink at his son in a covert fashion, as his wife ate in blissful ignorance at what unbridled agony she caused.

It was outright astonishing, how she managed to create delicious meals for them every day, but failed to see the problem whenever it came to her homemade sweets.

"Come to think of it," the man threw in, smoothly distancing himself from his plate, "since tomorrow's a Friday, why don't we go somewhere over the weekend?"

"A trip?" Riley didn't feel too pleased at the prospect, but couldn't outright say no either, if it was something that his uncle wanted.

The anticipation didn't last very long though, since the guest of honor had other plans. Isaac averted his eyes, not liking the fact that he had to put a kibosh on Chris' optimism.

"I can't, I have a prior commitment."

Chris, his father, blinked in confusion. It wasn't the weird type of phrasing his son had chosen to word his complaint, as he sometimes did that in random intervals and they had all gradually gotten used to it by now. No, it was that the one who said it was not Riley, but in fact Isaac – his son, whom he had now known for an entirety of sixteen years, no less!

"You have something planned?" His mind wandered at the thought. 'Did he make a friend?'

A smile almost crept up on his face, but he held it down and faked a cough instead. He couldn't be too soon to judge. Those "commitments" could be anything after all.

Yet he wasn't he only one who jumped to conclusions. "That's so nice to hear," Ellen chimed in with vigor, clasping her hands above the table and positively beaming at her son. "What's your plan?"

Isaac, slightly put off by their suspicious reaction, decided to pay their antics no mind and kept it short. He was already relieved, as they didn't seem too disappointed.

"I promised a child from school to go somewhere together."

As if on cue, both of his parents shared a knowing look, after which his mother reached over the table to put her hand over her son's. "We can go on a trip anytime. It's more important for young people to mingle with their peers, right?"

Even Riley couldn't hide his shock. Be it because of the way his aunt said the word "mingle", or the fact that they acted as if Isaac had found the cure for cancer – or maybe he was just as astonished at the fact that his cousin, the guy he had known for about ten years now, was actually going to spend his free time with a living person that wasn't part of this family or the old lady next door. He couldn't tell, because his mind was way too boggled by all of which unfolded in front of him.

As for the boy in question: Their reactions also didn't make any sense to him, but as always, he didn't pay them any mind. However, he felt nervous all of a sudden, in case they asked him for more details.

"I appreciate your understanding of the matter. I will make sure to be back on time."

"Sure, sure," Chris Layer replied, "take as much time as you need. But don't forget to introduce your friend to us at some point in the future. I mean, whenever you're comfortable with it."

Confused, Isaac furrowed his brows. He couldn't fathom what his parents were thinking, calling that brat his friend. But he concluded that they wouldn't know, so he simply shrugged and replied as vaguely as possible.

"If the opportunity arises, I shall."

As they both seemed satisfied enough with his shady answer, the topic seemed to be settled. Only Riley shook his head, watching the scene unfold in front of him.

"Let's just hope it's actually a person and not some cardboard-cutout or a fucking goldfish."

"Riley!" Ellen called out in a scolding manner, "No cussing at the table. And say stuff like that about your brother's friends."

But Isaac didn't mind his comment at all. In fact, he would rather spend his time with the cardboard-cutout of a smiling turd, instead he had to go to such lengths to fulfill his side of a bet he had made on a whim. Things like that always came back to bite one in the ass, which he should have known as he had uttered those words earlier.

He simply hoped he wouldn't have to work all that hard.