The sound of footsteps in the hall came like distant thunder through Ethan’s head — soft, slow, and deliberate. He sat on the edge of his bed, back slumped, hands trembling faintly in his p. His reflection in the dark window showed only the tired face of a boy who felt like a stranger.

  The door creaked open.“Ethan?” his mom’s voice was quiet — too careful. She stepped in, a small tray banced in her hands. Steam curled from a mug, carrying the faint scent of chamomile and honey. “You didn’t come down for breakfast, so I thought…”

  Her words faded when she saw his face properly. There was a flicker — not fear, but something softer. Concern, confusion, love. And beneath all that, something unspoken: she’d seen someone else that morning, even if she didn’t want to believe it.

  Ethan forced a smile, brittle at the edges. “Thanks, Mom.”He reached for the mug, but his hand shook. She noticed.

  “You’re pale,” she murmured, setting the tray on his desk instead and sitting beside him. “You scared me earlier, you know. You wouldn’t answer when I knocked. I was about to call someone.”

  He swallowed hard. “Sorry. I just… didn’t sleep much.”A lie. The truth was worse — he had slept, just not as Ethan.

  She exhaled softly and brushed a hand through his hair, her fingers gentle but searching. “You’ve been off tely,” she said after a moment. “More than usual. I don’t know what’s going on, but… whatever it is, you don’t have to face it alone, okay?”

  That nearly broke him.

  For a heartbeat, he almost said it — almost told her everything. The truth about the neckce, the tails, Eri. The freedom, the peace, the self he didn’t want to keep burying. But then he saw the tired lines around her eyes, the faint shake in her hand.

  He couldn’t do that to her. Not yet.

  “Yeah,” he managed, barely a whisper. “I know.”

  His mom gave him a small smile and pressed the warm mug into his hands. “Drink while it’s hot. I’ll give you some time before school, okay?”

  He nodded. “Thanks.”

  As she stood and left, closing the door gently behind her, Ethan stared down into the tea. The steam shimmered faintly — and for just a second, in the reflection, he swore he saw her face.

  Eri. Calm, sad, silent.

  He blinked, and it was gone.

  He took a sip anyway. It was warm, but it didn’t reach him.

  School was over hours ago being another day of desperate need to be Eri.

  The house was quiet now — that deep, post-dinner quiet when everyone had retreated to their rooms, when the lights dimmed and the only sounds were the hum of the fridge and the soft shifting of the wind.

  Ethan y on his bed staring at the ceiling, eyes half open, the faint gleam of the neckce pulsing softly on his chest. He hadn’t moved much since he got home. Every time he thought about sleeping, his mind filled with silver hair, soft fur, and warmth. Every time he thought about her, it hurt a little more to still be him.

  Finally, he sat up.He couldn’t do this anymore.

  He gnced toward the door — the same door his mom had unlocked earlier that morning. The one she might try again tomorrow. He didn’t want that. Couldn’t risk it.

  Later that night after dinner

  He waited, listening. The floorboards creaked faintly in the hallway. Voices murmured somewhere — his dad saying goodnight, his younger sister compining about homework. The usual sounds of a normal family night. A life that had never really fit.

  When the murmurs faded, Ethan moved.

  He slipped quietly to the door, cracked it open just enough to peek out. The hallway was dim, lit only by the blue glow of a nightlight. His parents’ door was shut.

  Perfect.

  He padded down the hall in bare feet, holding his breath with every step. His mom always kept the spare keys in the kitchen drawer — the one beled Misc. He’d seen her use them to open his door that morning.

  He opened the drawer as quietly as he could.Metal clinked softly. His heart jumped.Then his fingers found them — two identical keys on a small ring.

  “Got you,” he whispered.

  He slipped both keys into his pocket, then crept back down the hall, careful to avoid the one creaky board just outside his older sister’s room.

  Once back inside his own, he shut the door and turned the lock with a soft click. Then, just to be sure, he tested it — locked. Secure.

  He took out the keys, holding them in his palm for a moment. The metal glinted in the dim light. These weren’t just keys now. They were control. A way to make sure no one could come in until he was ready.

  Ethan hid the first key deep under his mattress, the second behind a loose section of baseboard he’d discovered months ago. Then he sat down on the floor, leaning against the wall, exhaling for the first time in what felt like forever.

  The neckce’s faint glow drew his eyes again. He didn’t touch it — not yet. Not tonight.

  But knowing that no one could burst in, that he could choose when to be her again, made his chest ache with relief.

  “I just need time,” he whispered into the dark.The gem pulsed once, like it heard him.