Ryan lay back on his worn-out couch, staring up at the ceiling of his small apartment. The room was dimly lit, the afternoon sunlight filtered through blinds, casting thin stripes across the floor. He could hear the city humming outside, a constant reminder of the world moving on, while he remained trapped in this limbo of inaction. His phone buzzed on the coffee table, and he glanced at the screen, seeing his mom's name flash.
He hesitated, then sighed, picking it up and hitting the call button. It rang once, twice, before her familiar, warm voice filled his ears.
"Hi, sweetheart! It's been a while since you called. How are you doing?"
Ryan forced a smile, even though she couldn't see it. "Hey, Mom. I'm… doing okay. Just a bit of a rough patch, that's all."
"Oh no, what happened?" Concern laced her words, and he could picture her frowning, the way her eyebrows would knit together whenever she was worried.
He took a deep breath, the lie forming easily on his tongue. "I had a little accident at work. Nothing serious, but I can't really get worker's comp for it, so I'm kind of in a tight spot for a while. I just need a bit of help, you know, with rent and stuff."
There was a pause on the other end, and Ryan felt his stomach twist. "Oh, honey, why didn't you tell us sooner? Of course, we'll help you out. It's no trouble at all."
Relief washed over him, mingled with a sharp pang of guilt. He swallowed it down, nodding even though she couldn't see. "Thanks, Mom. I really appreciate it. It's just temporary, I promise."
"I know, I know. You're strong, Ryan. You'll get through this. And if you need anything, just call, okay?"
"Yeah, I will. Love you, Mom."
"Love you too, sweetheart."
She hesitated, and Ryan could almost see the look on her face, the way her eyes would narrow slightly when she was about to ask something she thought he wouldn't want to answer. "Have you seen Cal lately? How's he doing?"
Ryan's heart skipped a beat. He hadn't talked to Cal in weeks, hadn't even seen him since they'd parted ways. But he couldn't tell her that. He could almost hear her voice change, the worry creeping in.
"He's… doing great, actually," Ryan lied, forcing his voice to sound light, casual. "You know Cal, always busy, always doing something amazing. He's, uh, helping out in the community a lot. Really making a difference."
"That's wonderful," she said, relief evident in her tone. "I always knew he'd do great things. You boys have such big hearts."
Ryan bit his lip, the guilt twisting in his gut like a knife. "Yeah, he's doing really well. We catch up when we can, but he's been swamped with all the good work he's doing."
"I'm so glad to hear that," she said, the warmth in her voice almost making him feel better. Almost. "You boys should stick together. You're stronger that way."
He nodded, even though she couldn't see. "Yeah, Mom. I know. We will."
After a few more minutes of small talk, he finally managed to end the call, letting the phone drop onto his chest. He stared up at the ceiling again, feeling the weight of his lies pressing down on him. He hadn't spoken to Cal, hadn't seen him. He didn't even know if Cal would want to see him. They left off when Cal called him back to the apartment after Ryan's near death experience. Breaking up the duo as a team and refusing to budge on that decision.
But that would change. Once he showed Cal what he could do, how strong he'd become, everything would be different.
—
The sun peaked through the skylight above where Ryan stood in the middle of an abandoned warehouse. The air was thick with dust, the faint smell of rust and decay lingering. He took a deep breath, feeling the energy coursing through his veins, anticipating the thrill.
He started with the usual routine, lifting rusted steel beams, feeling the strain in his muscles, the power in his limbs. He grinned as he tossed one aside, the clanging echo reverberating through the empty space. Next came the endurance test. He braced himself as he grabbed a lead pipe he'd brought along, the metal cold and unforgiving in his grip.
With a swift motion, he brought it down on his arm, the impact jolting through him. The pipe bent, a dull ache spreading through his bones, but no real pain. He let out a shaky laugh, adrenaline surging. He did it again, harder this time, the pipe snapping in two.
His heart raced as he tossed the pieces aside, flexing his fingers. It wasn't enough. He needed more.
Ryan moved to the wall, the concrete old and crumbling. He took a deep breath, then punched it with all his strength. The impact sent a shockwave up his arm, the wall cracking under the force. He pulled back, looking at his knuckles, unmarked. Perfect.
He kept going, blow after blow, until the wall was a mess of shattered concrete and dust, his hands still unscathed. He stepped back, breathing hard, a smile spreading across his face. He was getting stronger. He was almost ready.
But almost wasn't enough.