Chapter Text
Morning came too fast.
Kevin woke up to the sound of dripping water echoing through the warehouse, a steady plink… plink… plink that had wormed its way into his dreams and refused to leave. He groaned, rolling onto his side and nearly knocking his shoulder into a crate of weapons.
“Great,” he muttered, blinking blearily at the dim light filtering in through a grimy, half-broken window.
He sat up, rubbing his eyes wondering if Argit would be visiting him with plans for the day. For half a second, he’d forgotten.
School.
The thought hit him like a brick to the chest. His stomach twisted, a weird mix of nerves and something dangerously close to excitement. Kevin hadn’t been excited about anything normal in a long time, and that alone made him suspicious of the feeling.
He swung his legs off the makeshift cot and stood, stretching until his back popped. He’d ditched Argit sometime after midnight, coming back only when the warehouse was quiet and empty. No lecture. No “I told you so.” Just space. That was… nice. Unsettling, but nice.
Kevin scrubbed his face with cold water from a cracked sink in the corner, wincing as the chill shocked him awake. His reflection stared back at him from a broken mirror—messy brown hair, dark circles under his eyes, a face that looked too sharp and too tired for a kid his age. His mind wondered if this was a good idea. Nothing had happened yet and there was still time to change course.
No, he thought, I'm doing this
He pulled on a black hoodie and a pair of worn jeans, shoving his few belongings into his backpack. Fake documents, hacked schedule printout, a half-empty energy bar, and a small chunk of scrap metal he kept out of habit more than necessity. He hesitated, then zipped the bag shut.
The metal was his new anchor, to feed the desire to absorb something, to fill the void that craved power. He might have transformed back into a human, but addiction for power had remained. Not wanting to go down that road again, he experimented and eventually found he could absorb more than just electricity. The metal wasn't the same, it was duller, less exciting. But it kept him full , and that was good enough.
The walk to Madison Elementary felt longer than it should’ve been. Kevin kept his hands shoved into his pockets, eyes down, every muscle coiled tight like he was heading into a fight. The closer he got, the louder everything became, cars pulling up, kids laughing, backpacks slung over shoulders, parents calling out last-minute reminders.
It was chaos.
Normal chaos.
Kevin slowed to a stop across the street, staring at the brick building like it might bite him.
You can do this, he told himself. It’s just school. No Null Void. No Plumbers. No Omnitrix.
…No Gwen Tennyson.
He swallowed, then crossed the street anyway.
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Gwen woke up before her alarm.
She lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling, listening to the quiet hum of the house. Somewhere down the hall, Ken’s door slammed shut, followed by the unmistakable sound of him arguing with their dad about being late. Gwen smiled faintly.
Some things never changed.
She hopped out of bed, already feeling the familiar flutter of anticipation in her chest. Mondays weren’t her favorite, but there was something comforting about routine, knowing what to expect, knowing where she fit.
She pulled on the outfit she’d picked out the night before, clipping the blue barrette into her hair just right. A quick glance in the mirror told her she looked fine. Good, even. Not like a baby. Not like she was trying too hard either.
Perfectly acceptable sixth-grade Gwen Tennyson.
Downstairs, breakfast was already on the table. Her mom handed her a piece of toast and smiled. “Big day?”
“Just a regular one,” Gwen said, shrugging, though her fingers tightened around her glass of juice.
Her dad ruffled her hair on his way out the door. “You’ll do great, kiddo.”
She rolled her eyes fondly. “I always do.”
The walk to school was filled with chatter from Emily and Julie, both of them already dissecting who sat where last week and which teacher was “definitely in a bad mood today.”
“Did you hear there’s a new kid?” Julie asked suddenly.
Gwen blinked. “What? No.”
“Yeah,” Emily chimed in. “My mom said the office was all busy this morning. Probably a transfer.”
Gwen hummed, trying to sound casual. New kids happened all the time. It wasn’t a big deal.
__________________________________
Kevin found the front office without too much trouble.The secretary barely looked up as he handed over his papers. “Last name?”
“Levin,” he said easily. No reason to hide, he thought, it wasn't like anyone was actually looking for him.
She typed something, frowned, then nodded. “Alright. You’re in Mrs. Dalton’s fifth-grade class. Room 204.”
Kevin took the schedule she slid across the desk, fingers brushing paper instead of metal, and turned toward the hallway.
Okay. Step one complete. No alarms. No Plumbers bursting through the walls.
Yet.
The halls were already buzzing when he found Room 204. He paused outside the door, listening to the scrape of chairs and the murmur of voices inside. Don’t be stupid, he scolded himself, then pushed the door open.
Mrs. Dalton looked up immediately. “Ah! You must be our new student.”
Every head in the room turned.
Kevin felt it instantly that prickling awareness crawling up his spine, the weight of too many eyes. He shoved his hands deeper into his sleeves and forced himself not to react. Every nerve in his body told him to run, to hide, he knew running out now would just more attention.
“Kevin Levin,” he said flatly, silently hoping his teacher wouldn't make him do a whole introduction of himself.
“Welcome, Kevin,” Mrs. Dalton smiled. “Why don’t you take the empty seat near the window?”
He nodded, relieved that the worst was over and moved down the aisle, acutely aware of whispers following him like static.
He ignored all of it.
Then he reached the desk.
And froze.
Gwen Tennyson was sitting one row over, pencil paused mid-air, eyes wide. For a split second, neither of them moved.
Kevin’s brain short-circuited. Of all the scenarios he’d played out, this wasn’t how he’d imagined it. No dramatic confrontation. No shouting. Just… Gwen. In a classroom. Looking smaller somehow. Softer. Normal.
She looked at him like she wasn’t sure if she was seeing a ghost.
Kevin recovered first. He dropped into the seat, staring straight ahead like the whiteboard had personally offended him.
Gwen’s heart was pounding.
It couldn’t be him.
It was him.
The lock around his neck, the hair, the unmistakable scowl he was failing to hide. Kevin Levin. The boy who’d tried to kill her cousin. The boy who’d terrified her and fascinated her in equal measure.
What was he doing here? How did he escape the null void?
She stole a glance at him from the corner of her eye. He looked tense. Smaller than she remembered, maybe.
He didn’t look at her.
Good, she told herself firmly. Very good.
Mrs. Dalton began the lesson, her voice blending into background noise as Gwen struggled to focus. Her thoughts kept circling back, buzzing louder and louder.
He’s here. He’s actually here. Does Ben know? Does Grandpa Max? Should I tell someone?
She glanced again.
Kevin’s jaw was clenched, his leg bouncing under the desk like he was barely containing himself.
For the first time, Gwen felt something unexpected cut through her fear.
Concern.
_____________________________________________
Recess came as a mercy.
Kevin bolted for the door the second the bell rang, ignoring the curious looks. He made it halfway across the playground before a voice stopped him cold.
“Kevin.”
He turned slowly. Gwen stood a few feet away, arms crossed, expression carefully neutral.
“Don’t,” he said immediately, voice low. “I’m not here for trouble.”
She frowned. “Then why are you here?”
He hesitated. Just for a moment.
“…School,” he said finally.
She stared at him, searching his face for the lie.
And for once she didn’t see one.
“Okay,” Gwen said slowly. “Then behave.”
Kevin snorted despite himself, he had actually forgotten gwen was Ben's big mouthed cousin “You always this bossy?”
“Only when it’s necessary.”
A beat passed.
Neither of them smiled.
But neither of them walked away either.
And somewhere in the distance, the bell rang again, pulling them both back toward a place neither of them was quite ready for but neither was willing to run from just yet.