The morning classes passed in a blur. Ben managed to focus—mostly. Math was tolerable, history dragged on longer than he would have liked, and biology was at least interesting enough to keep his brain engaged. But no matter how hard he tried, his thoughts kept drifting.
Gwen.
Ben liked her. And he was almost sure she liked him back. But lately, she had been spending more time with Kevin, and that uncertainty gnawed at him. It wasn't jealousy—at least, that's what he told himself—but something felt off. He didn't want to assume the worst, but ignoring it wasn't an option either.
The lunch bell rang, snapping him out of his thoughts. He let out a quiet sigh of relief.
"Finally."
Slipping his books into his locker, he slung his bag over one shoulder and joined the steady flow of students heading toward the cafeteria. The hum of conversation grew louder the closer he got—laughter, shouted greetings, the occasional slam of a locker.
Inside, it was the same chaotic scene as always. The lunch lines were already packed, tables claimed by groups of students, and the air was thick with the scent of greasy pizza, overcooked pasta, and whatever mystery meat they were serving today.
Ben exhaled. Business as usual.
Spotting an opening in the line, he grabbed a tray, scanning his options. Nothing looked particularly appetizing, but hunger outweighed pickiness. He settled for a burger, a side of fries, and a soda—safe choices.
Just as he turned to find a table, a familiar voice spoke beside him.
"Bet you five bucks this burger's at least a week old."
Ben smirked before turning. "Not taking that bet, Kev."
Kevin grinned, loading his own tray with food that looked just as questionable. "Smart man."
They quickly spotted an empty table in the corner and sat down, slipping into easy conversation—small talk, jokes, the usual. But something was off. A tension hung between them, something unspoken. Ben could feel it.
And it wasn't long before Gwen slid into the seat across from him.
For a moment, none of them spoke. The cafeteria buzzed around them—students chatting, trays clattering, laughter echoing from a few tables over. But at their table, a strange silence settled.
Ben pushed his food around his plate, barely touching it. His gaze flickered between Gwen and Kevin. They were acting weird. Too weird. And if there was one thing he hated, it was being kept in the dark.
He let out a slow breath and decided to be direct.
"You know," he said, his voice edged with frustration, "you guys are hiding something from me."
Kevin froze for a fraction of a second before exchanging a quick, uneasy glance with Gwen. When he turned back to Ben, he wore his usual smirk—but it didn't quite reach his eyes.
"What are you talking about, Ben?" Kevin asked, feigning confusion.
Gwen shifted in her seat, fingers tightening around the cup she had just set down. She avoided his gaze.
That was all the confirmation Ben needed.
"Don't play dumb with me, Kevin," Ben said, his voice steady but firm. "I've known you long enough to know when you're lying. You're not being honest, and I can tell. So just—say it. Whatever it is, just tell me."
Kevin hesitated. The confidence he usually carried like a second skin wavered—just for a moment. Then, with a quiet sigh, he muttered, "Ben… it's not the right time."
Ben clenched his jaw. "Not the right time? Then when, Kevin? Because this has been going on for weeks now, and I'm sick of pretending I don't notice."
Gwen sighed, exhaling deeply. She had been holding something back—not because she wanted to, but because she wasn't sure how he'd react. She wasn't even sure she had fully come to terms with it yet.
"Fine," she said finally. "We have been keeping something from you." She paused, gauging his reaction before continuing.
Ben leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, expression unreadable. "So you do have something to tell me." His eyes narrowed. "Go ahead, then."
Gwen and Kevin exchanged glances again before subtly scanning the cafeteria. They weren't comfortable talking here. Too many people. Too many ears.
"We'll tell you," Gwen said finally, her voice quieter now, "but not here."
Kevin gave a single nod of agreement. Ben studied them both, searching for any sign of dishonesty. But all he found was hesitation.
And that only made him more certain—whatever they were hiding, it was big.
Silence settled over the table again. No one tried to restart the conversation. Kevin looked completely unbothered, while Gwen's anxiety was almost tangible. Ben finished his food quickly, deciding there was no reason to sit around any longer.
"I'm heading out," he said, pushing his tray aside before standing up.
Without waiting for a response, he left the two behind. The rest of the day passed in a blur. The moment the final bell rang, he was out the door, practically sprinting.
All he wanted was to get home, clear his head, and figure out what the hell was going on. As expected, Kevin was already waiting for him at the entrance, a smug grin on his face.
"What is it, Kevin?" Ben asked, barely masking his impatience as he walked down the stairs. Kevin fell into step beside him. "You want to know the secret we've been keeping, right?"
Kevin's grin widened. "Be ready at 7:30 sharp. I'll come pick you up."
Ben frowned but didn't respond. Instead, he freed his bicycle, hopped on, and rode home quietly.
The streets were familiar. He knew every crack in the pavement, every turn and shortcut. Normally, the ride home gave him time to clear his head and it didn't take long for him to reach home.
Pulling up to the driveway, he hopped off his bike and leaned it against the front steps. He fished out a spare key from his pocket, unlocking the door with a relieved sigh.
As soon as he stepped inside, the silence hit him. Quiet.
Ben glanced around. The house was empty—no signs of movement, no sounds coming from the kitchen. This meant his parents were probably still at work. They wouldn't be back for a while.
Good. At least I don't have to deal with questions right now.
He kicked off his shoes, tossed his bag by the door, and headed straight for the couch. He practically collapsed onto it, grabbing the remote and flicking on the TV.
The screen came to life, cycling through channels before landing on the news. He barely needed to check—there was always something happening.
Whether it was Kaiju attacks, hero rescue efforts, or the latest criminal activity, there was never a slow news day. And today was no different.
Ben leaned forward, eyes narrowing as he listened.
"—Several buildings have sustained damage, but so far, no civilian casualties have been reported."
The footage on the screen showed a massive, reptilian Kaiju lumbering through the city, its thick, armored hide glinting under the late afternoon sun.
It wasn't the largest one he'd ever seen, but it was certainly doing its share of damage. Cars lay overturned, buildings crumbled in its wake, and panicked civilians scrambled to escape.
The news anchor's voice carried a sense of urgency.
"As of now, several heroes have responded to the situation, including members of the Guardians of the Globe. Their primary focus remains on evacuating civilians while strategizing the best way to neutralize the threat."
Ben exhaled sharply. Another day, another Kaiju attack. It was almost routine at this point. Onscreen, the heroes barely made a dent in the creature, struggling just to restrain it while a red-and-blue blur zipped back and forth—probably Red Rush.
Then, without warning, the air seemed to ripple.
A split second later, the unmovable Kaiju was sent hurtling backward, smashing into the street with a thunderous crash. For a second dust and debris filled the air before revealing a lone figure standing amidst the chaos. A broad cape billowed behind him, stark against the red and white of his suit.
Ben recognized him instantly. Omni-Man. Earth's strongest hero.
The moment he arrived, the outcome was all but decided. There was no point in watching anymore. With a click, he switched off the TV, grabbed a bottle of water from the kitchen, and headed upstairs.
Halfway to his room, a sharp pang flared in his head—quick, but strong enough to make him pause. He pressed his fingers against his temple, but the sensation faded just as fast as it came. Weird.
A yawn crept up on him, a sudden wave of exhaustion weighing down his limbs. His shoulders slumped. "I don't usually feel this tired..."
The thought barely formed before he collapsed onto his bed, unconscious before his head hit the pillow.