It started as a joke.
"Just like old times," Zelta said, grabbing a bag of marshmallows and a half-deflated air mattress from Sky's garage.
But by midnight, the living room was lit only by string lights and the glow of a horror movie none of them were really watching. Diana had raided the kitchen and returned with frozen pizza rolls and a smug smile. Scott had claimed one end of the couch, blanket draped across his legs, head tilted against the back cushion. Sky was curled up on the floor with a pillow under his head, trying not to fall asleep. Zelta sprawled out like a starfish, socks mismatched, phone abandoned.
They were a mess of limbs and blankets and old comfort.
"I still can't believe you didn't die from that much wasabi," Zelta was saying, laughing so hard her shoulders shook.
Scott groaned. "I thought it was green ice cream, okay?"
Sky chuckled. "You turned purple. Diana, you should've seen it. He was sweating like a sinner in church."
Diana smirked from her perch on the armrest. "If he does it again, I'm filming it."
Scott pointed at her, mock-offended. "Et tu, Brute?"
Zelta threw a marshmallow at him. "You'll live. You're practically invincible now."
That made the room pause — just for a beat. A subtle shift.
Sky glanced at Scott, then looked away. Diana sipped her soda like nothing had changed.
Scott shrugged, playing it cool. "Don't test that theory with more wasabi."
---
Later, when the movie credits rolled and most of the snacks had vanished, the group slipped into a quieter rhythm.
Diana had curled up in the corner with her hoodie pulled over her knees. Zelta lay beside her, scrolling through her playlist. Sky had dozed off next to Scott, his head nearly bumping Scott's shoulder.
Scott didn't move.
The warmth of the room wrapped around him like memory — like a piece of his old life he hadn't realized he missed this much.
Zelta's voice broke the quiet. "So... if you could go back to any day, like time-travel-style, where would you go?"
Scott blinked. "You're asking the guy who used to burn his toast and his Pop-Tarts?"
"Humor me."
Diana answered first, eyes half-lidded. "I'd go back to the day before my mom left. I'd ask her if she was planning it."
Zelta nodded softly. "That's... real."
Sky, eyes still closed, murmured, "I'd go back to the day before Scott left. I would've made him promise to call."
Scott turned his head, startled.
Sky didn't open his eyes.
Zelta exhaled, then smiled. "I'd go back to the day the four of us made that terrible fort in the woods. Just to do it again — but better."
Scott looked down at his hands.
He said, "I'd go back to the first night I realized I wasn't afraid of the dark anymore."
The room fell silent.
Diana looked at him. Really looked. "You're not scared now, are you?"
He shook his head slowly. "No. Not of that."
Zelta yawned and threw an arm over her eyes. "Okay, this is getting too emotionally poetic. We need sleep before we all start writing haikus about our childhood trauma."
Everyone laughed — quietly, tiredly.
Blankets shifted. Lights dimmed. The world hushed.
And as Scott closed his eyes with Sky breathing steady beside him, Zelta murmuring something to Diana in the dark, he thought:
Maybe I can belong again.
Even if the monster in his chest wasn't done waking up.