Chapter Text
“I promise to stay by your side forever.”
“Forever?..”
“Forever.”
Forever. Such a meaningless word. Forever is a long time. Forever is for all of eternity. It’s a promise that can be so easily made, and yet so easily broken.
And it hurts. Oh, it hurts when that promise gets broken. Like a burn, the pain lingers. Although, the pain from burns usually linger because of nerve damage— but that’s not the point. It lingers. Especially when that useless, useless promise is broken in such a way that it tears your soul apart. When you build up trust. When you build a bond that you thought could never be broken— Until it is.
And it all started that fateful day.
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The Wingfield family had just moved into a new neighborhood in, ironically enough, Houston. Which isn’t particularly a big problem for Xeno. It’s not like very many kids liked him in his old neighborhood. They thought he was weird. But, to be fair, he didn’t like them either. He’s never really cared for friendships. All he cares about is his family—though he’d never admit that—, and science.
Currently, he's in a field, building a rail gun. Why is he, a ten year old, by himself in a random field and building a rail gun? Welcome to Texas, the state where no one pays attention to their kids and somehow everyone is okay with it. I hate it here.
Alright. Everything is set. 3, 2, 1, fire.
. . . .
It missed. “Huh?” But how? He doubts his math is wrong. He's always right. So, how did it miss? There's no way! Maybe he forgot something? No, he never forgets. He has an eidetic memory— “Lower your firing angle by 1.27 degrees. It’s not your gun's fault you missed your target. It’s a matter of skill, not of equipment.”
Xeno turned and saw this blonde kid with an absolutely atrocious haircut—not that his is any better— and a suspicious amount of lollipops. But, that's strange. He hadn't even heard this kid's footsteps. Who is this kid?
“So, you believe you can hit the mark?”
The blonde stepped up, made a few adjustments, and hit the target perfectly. Not a centimeter off.
. . .
“That was truly elegant! Who are you?”
“Thanks. The name’s Stanley.” The blonde, now known as Stanley, extended his hand out.
Xeno just stared.
“... A handshake. You heard of ‘em?”
“I’m aware of it on a conceptual level, though this is my first practical experience.”
“Same.”
Xeno finally took his hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Stanley. I’m Xeno.”
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“So, Xeno. What is this thing anyway?”
“It’s a rail gun, it uses Lorentz’s law to determine how charged particles move in electromagnetic wa—” Wow. He sure talks a lot.
“Are you tryin’ to start a revolution or something?”
“Elegant idea, but I simply wish to learn the inner workings of the universe.”
“So, you’re, like, smart?”
“Yes. People are intimidated by my intelligence.”
I think they’re intimidated by how weird you are. “You know, you won't get a lot of friends with that attitude.”
“I don't care for friendships.”
“I can tell..”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you’re the type of person who prefers to study and work rather than socialize. It’s pretty lame, if you ask me.”
“Then why bother talking to me if I’m ‘lame’, as you put it?”
“Because. You’re building a freaking rail gun. That’s pretty sick. Besides, you look like you need a friend.”
“I already told you, I have no interest in friendships. I don’t need a friend, nor do I want one.”
“Too bad, you have one now.”
“Whatever. Do what you want to, just don’t talk to me while I’m working— wait, what?”
“You heard me. You have a friend now.”
“I’m assuming it’s you?”
“Well, obviously. I don’t think anyone else would have the patience to put up with you, weirdo.”
Xeno may not have realized it at the time, but that was his very first friend.