She’d have told me to help him get it right.
No one answered immediately. We didn’t need to.
Two more years of college first, Elio said eventually.
Two more years of training, Keane agreed. Learning. Growing into whatever comes next.
Together, I added.
Always together, Keane confirmed.
The word had changed meaning. Once it had meant survival—crisis response, desperate partnership against existential threat. Now it just meant us. Four people who’d chosen each other. Who’d keep choosing each other through whatever came next.
Not because we had to. Because we wanted to.
THAT EVENING, WE ENDED UP in my suite. Not planned—it just happened that way, the four of us gravitating toward each other like orbits finding equilibrium.
Elio played his violin—something new he’d been composing. Honest music, no performance, just beauty for its own sake.
Keane sat beside him, occasionally offering suggestions about timing or structure. They’d been working on a piece together—portal mathematics translated into musical theory.
Cyrus stretched out on the floor, Ember’s warmth steady on his chest. His usual intensity banked to comfortable presence, safe enough to rest.
I settled against the wall, Scout in my lap, watching them.
My family. My home.
Come here, Cyrus said, extending a hand.
I moved to join him on the floor. His arm came around my shoulders. Elio set aside his violin, crossing to settle on my other side. Keane completed the circle, his hand finding mine.
Physical connection without urgency. Just presence.
I love this, I said quietly.
The music? Elio asked.
This. Us. The fact that we get to have quiet evenings instead of fighting for survival.
Boring is good, Keane agreed. Boring means the system’s working.
We’re not boring, Cyrus corrected, a smile in his voice. We’re just not dying.
Fair distinction.
Elio’s fingers traced patterns on my shoulder. Keane’s thumb brushed my knuckles. Cyrus’s steady breathing anchored us all.
This was what we’d fought for—not glory, not power, not recognition, but this. Quiet evenings. Comfortable silence. The freedom to be ordinary.
I was thinking, Elio said eventually, about summer break.
What about it?
We should go somewhere. Together. Nothing magical. Nothing world-ending. Just vacation.
The idea felt foreign and wonderful.
Where? I asked.
