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REFRESHED.
The sunlight poured through the tall windows of the school cafeteria, dust motes dancing lazily in the golden beams. Wesley sat at his usual spot with his friends, a tray of food before him that he barely noticed. For the first time in a long while, the chatter around him didn't feel threatening—it felt alive, comforting even.
He found himself laughing at one of Ruel's dumb jokes, the sound foreign to his own ears but warm in a way that made his chest feel light. Ruel had been leaning back in his chair, pretending to be a king surveying his kingdom, and Wes had doubled over at the dramatic bow he gave to Paris.
"You know, I think I deserve a medal for putting up with both of you," Ruel said, grinning as he leaned across the table to steal a fry from Andrew's tray.
"You've already got your trophy," Paris replied, waving a hand dramatically, "it's called me."
Wesley chuckled quietly, hiding his face behind a hand for a moment. It was easy to laugh here, easy to let go of the tension that usually lived in his shoulders. He realized he hadn't felt this light in months.
"Hey, Wes," Seth's voice broke through his thoughts. The tall boy was leaning against the edge of the table, his expression unusually relaxed. "You've been quiet today."
Wes shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Not really. Just... thinking."
Seth tilted his head, studying him for a moment. "About what?"
Wes hesitated. For so long, he'd been told to bottle everything up, to keep his emotions hidden, to pretend he was fine. But here, surrounded by people who didn't judge, who didn't push him to explain every reaction, it felt different. He let out a slow breath. "Just... school. Friends. Normal stuff."
Seth's lips quirked into a small smile. "Normal's not bad."
"No, it's... really good," Wesley admitted quietly, looking down at the table. "I don't remember the last time I felt like this."
Andrew, sitting across from him, raised an eyebrow. "This 'like this'—what exactly are we talking about?"
Wesley blinked, caught off guard. He wasn't used to explaining his emotions out loud. He shook his head. "Just... being okay. I don't know. I can actually breathe without worrying."
Paris nudged him gently. "That's called being human, Wes. You're allowed."
A warmth spread through Wesley at their words. He'd spent so long fighting against himself, against the anxiety, the fear, the panic that clung like a second skin. Now, just for a moment, he could let it go.
After lunch, the group decided to head outside. The campus was alive with students, some playing basketball, others sitting in the sun, reading or laughing. Wesley followed, careful to stay near his friends, but not because he was afraid. He wanted to.
