Chapter Text
Star Tech City.
A city where something was always happening.
Every day brought something new. Conflicts between rival groups. Rebellions against corporations. Friendships that formed in the most unexpected places. Romances that somehow became everyone's business. New technologies being developed overnight. Festivals, protests, competitions, scandals—
For most people, everyday life in Star Tech City was anything but boring.
For Wemmbu, however?
It couldn't have been more boring.
Wemmbu had just woken up.
...
No, actually.
He hadn't.
He was still lying face-down on his bed, completely motionless, with half of his blanket hanging off the mattress.
He had been technically awake for a few seconds now, but his brain had yet to receive the memo.
It was the middle of the night.
No, wait.
The middle of the—
“WEMMBU!”
A loud woman's voice echoed through the house.
Nothing.
“WEMMBU, GET DOWN HERE!”
A hand emerged from underneath the blanket.
It weakly flopped onto the mattress.
Nothing else happened.
“WEMMBU!”
“...Five minutes...!”
His voice was muffled by the pillow.
“YOU SAID THAT TEN MINUTES AGO!”
Wemmbu slowly opened one eye.
He stared blankly at the wall.
...
What?
He hadn't even been awake for ten minutes.
There was a pause.
Then—
“IT'S TWO IN THE AFTERNOON!”
Wemmbu's eyes immediately opened.
He sat straight up.
His purple hair, which had already been messy enough when he went to sleep, now looked like someone had built a bird's nest on top of his head.
He stared at the clock.
2:03 PM.
“...Oh.”
A second later, his mother's voice came again.
“GET DOWN HERE! YOU'RE HELPING SET THE TABLE!”
“WHY?!”
“BECAUSE IT'S CHRISTMAS!”
Wemmbu stared at the clock again.
Then at his ceiling.
Then back at the clock.
Right.
Christmas.
He had completely forgotten.
“...Oh.”
He rubbed his face.
Okay.
In his defense—
He had gone to sleep at 3 AM.
That was a completely reasonable explanation.
Sure, he had slept for eleven hours.
Sure, he had spent most of the previous night doing absolutely nothing productive.
Sure, his sleep schedule had been destroyed for months.
But it was term break.
That made it legal.
Probably.
Wemmbu dragged himself out of bed.
His room was exactly what one would expect from a university student who had been left unsupervised for far too long.
His desk was covered in notebooks, cables, a tablet, several empty cups, and a laptop that was still running something from the night before.
His university bag was sitting in a corner.
He hadn't touched it in weeks.
Beautiful.
He shuffled toward the bathroom, still half-asleep.
At least he didn't have to worry about university today.
Or tomorrow.
Or the next day.
Or—
Actually, he had probably forgotten something.
He stopped.
...
Nah.
Future Wemmbu's problem.
He continued walking.
Wemmbu was a little older than the average university student.
He was twenty-three, currently in his fifth year.
Not because he was failing.
Absolutely not.
He was simply taking the scenic route through higher education.
He was double-majoring in Computer Science and Film, which already meant his schedule was more chaotic than most people's.
Then there was the fact that Wemmbu had somehow decided that sleep was optional during his first few years of university.
And then there was content creation.
And gaming.
And projects.
And occasionally skipping an 8:00 AM lecture because there was no universe in which he was willingly waking up at seven in the morning.
By the time he realized that all of these decisions had consequences, he was already looking at another year of university.
Thus:
The Victory Lap.
Year 5.
Term 1.
Final capstone projects.
Technically, he was still a student.
Technically, he was also one of the oldest students in most of his classes.
And technically, he had no reason to be embarrassed about it.
Because Wemmbu had somehow become absurdly competent at university despite his questionable academic habits.
He knew practically every shortcut on campus.
He knew which buildings had the quietest study rooms.
He knew which vending machines occasionally gave out free snacks.
He knew which professors would actually notice if someone walked in ten minutes late.
Most importantly, he had achieved something far more powerful than academic excellence:
He had IT department immunity.
At some point during his second year, the university's servers had broken.
Wemmbu had fixed them.
Then something else broke.
He fixed that too.
Then another system stopped working.
He fixed that one.
Eventually, the IT department had stopped asking why he was there.
They simply accepted his presence.
If Wemmbu walked into their office carrying a laptop, nobody questioned it anymore.
He was basically unpaid staff.
It was a beautiful arrangement.
Finals didn't scare him.
Capstone projects didn't scare him.
Deadlines?
Those were merely suggestions until they became urgent.
Wemmbu had survived four years of university.
He could survive one more.
Probably.
“WEMMBU!”
“I'm coming!”
He finally stumbled out of his room.
His mother, Liva, was standing downstairs with her arms crossed.
She stared at him.
Then at his hair.
Then back at him.
“Did you even brush that?”
Wemmbu paused halfway down the stairs.
“...No.”
“Go brush it.”
“I just woke up.”
“You woke up at two in the afternoon.”
“Exactly. I'm tired.”
Liva gave him a look.
Wemmbu gave her one back.
Neither of them moved.
Finally, Liva pointed toward the bathroom.
“Brush. Your. Hair.”
“Fine.”
Wemmbu sighed and turned around.
Christmas had been going great so far.
He had been awake for approximately three minutes.
And he was already being assigned chores.
What a wonderful life.
By the time Wemmbu actually made it downstairs, the Christmas preparations were well underway.
“Finally,” Liva said, standing beside the dining table with her hands on her hips.
Wemmbu looked at the table.
Then at her.
Then back at the table.
“What?”
“You're helping.”
“I know.”
“You've been standing there for five seconds.”
“I'm thinking.”
“About what?”
“Whether I can get away with not helping.”
Liva stared at him.
Wemmbu sighed.
“Fine.”
He grabbed the stack of plates and started setting them down.
This was apparently what his Christmas afternoon had come to.
Not gaming.
Not watching anything.
Not sleeping until sunset.
Setting a table.
At least there was music.
His earphones were firmly in his ears, his phone sitting safely in his pocket, and some loud Nu-Metal track was playing while he worked. The heavy guitars and
occasional screaming vocals were just about enough to keep his brain functioning.
He quietly mouthed along to the song as he placed the utensils beside each plate.
Liva, meanwhile, had returned to the kitchen.
The smell coming from there was suspiciously familiar.
Wemmbu paused.
He slowly turned his head.
“...Mom.”
“What?”
“What are you cooking?”
“Your favorite.”
Wemmbu's eyes widened.
“No way.”
Liva smiled.
“Yes way.”
She lifted the lid from the pot.
Mac and cheese.
Wemmbu stared at it like he'd just witnessed the second coming of a religious artifact.
“Mac and cheese.”
“Yes.”
“My mac and cheese.”
“It's food, Wemmbu.”
“No. It's history.”
Liva rolled her eyes.
Wemmbu had a complicated relationship with mac and cheese.
Not because he disliked it.
Quite the opposite.
He loved it.
Possibly too much.
There had been one particular incident during his second year of university where he'd eaten almost nothing but mac and cheese for an entire week.
He didn't remember exactly how long it had been.
Three days?
Five?
A week?
Possibly longer.
The details were blurry.
What he did remember was that he'd somehow run out of allowance.
And instead of asking Liva for more money, he had decided that this was a problem Future Wemmbu could solve.
Future Wemmbu, unfortunately, had been equally broke.
The reason?
He had spent roughly five hundred dollars of his allowance on a new gaming phone.
“Worth it,” he'd said at the time.
It had, in fact, been worth it.
His bank account had disagreed.
So, for an unspecified amount of time, his diet had become:
Mac and cheese.
Water.
Mac and cheese.
More water.
And, on one particularly desperate evening, mac and cheese with slightly different seasoning.
It had been a dark period.
A delicious period.
A financially irresponsible period.
“I still don't understand how you managed to eat that much mac and cheese,” Liva said.
“I was going through something.”
“You were broke.”
“Same thing.”
“You bought a phone.”
“A gaming phone.”
“With five hundred dollars.”
“It was on sale.”
“You told me it was on sale.”
“It was.”
“It was still five hundred dollars.”
Wemmbu nodded solemnly.
“An investment.”
“In what?”
“My happiness.”
Liva stared at him.
Wemmbu stared back.
“Anyway,” he said, “the mac and cheese was worth it.”
Liva shook her head and went back to cooking.
Wemmbu continued setting the table.
His music changed to another song, this one leaning more toward Post-Hardcore, and he immediately got distracted by a particularly good part.
He tapped his fingers against the table.
Then against the fork.
Then against the plate.
Then he realized he'd put one of the plates down slightly crooked.
He fixed it.
Perfect.
He moved on.
For once, his phone stayed in his pocket.
That was impressive considering how much of his university life was spent staring at screens.
Gaming.
Editing.
Studying.
Coding.
Watching videos.
Making videos.
Watching videos about making videos.
Making videos about watching videos.
It was a vicious cycle.
Still, his phone remained untouched.
Until—
Ding.
Wemmbu froze.
His earphones had just played a familiar notification sound.
A text.
A real text.
From someone who apparently hadn't been muted.
That was rare.
Out of the approximately hundred people who had his number, maybe six had survived the Wemmbu Muting Almost All Of His Contacts Incident.
Six.
Possibly fewer.
He pulled out his phone.
A message from Jaden.
aquaman: You free tomorrow? Me and Rejoice are going to the mall for lunch and shopping. You wanna come?
Wemmbu's face immediately brightened.
An actual friend.
An invitation.
Plans.
Outside.
Food.
Shopping.
Something that wasn't staring at his university assignments.
He typed back immediately.
Yeah, I'm free.
He added a few more words.
I'll come.
He was just about to hit send when—
SMACK.
“Ow!”
Wemmbu nearly dropped his phone.
He turned around.
Liva stood behind him.
“Put the phone away.”
“I was answering a message!”
“While setting the table?”
“Yes.”
“You're supposed to be helping me.”
“I was helping you.”
“You were texting.”
“For five seconds!”
“Phone away.”
Wemmbu rubbed the back of his head.
“That was assault.”
“That was parenting.”
“There's a difference?”
“Yes.”
Wemmbu looked at his phone.
Then at Liva.
Then back at his phone.
He sighed and slipped it into his pocket.
“Fine.”
“Good.”
He picked up another plate.
“I'm still going tomorrow.”
“Where?”
“The mall.”
“With who?”
“Jaden and Rejoice.”
Liva nodded.
“Alright.”
Wemmbu smiled.
At least tomorrow wouldn't be boring.
He didn't know why, but the names Jaden and Rejoice felt oddly familiar.
Not I know these people familiar.
More like hearing a song you'd forgotten you'd heard before.
He couldn't explain it.
So he didn't.
He simply placed another plate on the table.
One thing at a time.
Christmas first.
Mall tomorrow.
Later that evening, dinner was finally ready.
The house had gotten considerably louder.
There were relatives everywhere.
Some were talking in the living room, some were in the kitchen, and at least one person had been laughing loudly enough to be heard from three rooms away.
Wemmbu, naturally, had chosen the safest possible location.
The couch.
More specifically, one end of the couch, with his Nintendo Switch in his hands.
He was playing Animal Crossing.
Hey.
Don't judge him.
Everyone needed a break from coding and university projects.
Besides, there was something deeply satisfying about spending Christmas evening decorating a tiny digital island instead of thinking about his actual
responsibilities.
Wemmbu carefully placed another piece of furniture.
He leaned closer to the screen.
“No.”
He moved it.
“No.”
He moved it again.
“Perfect.”
He nodded proudly.
Then he heard footsteps.
Someone walked past the living room.
Then another person.
Then—
“...he's gotten so handsome.”
Wemmbu's eyes narrowed.
He continued playing.
Another voice quietly replied.
“And pretty, too.”
“Still single, though.”
Wemmbu's character stood motionless on the screen.
He slowly lowered the Switch.
...
What was wrong with people and romance?
Seriously.
It was Christmas.
There were cookies.
There was music.
There was mac and cheese.
Why did everything have to somehow become about relationships?
He wasn't even opposed to romance.
He just...
Hadn't really thought about it.
There were more important things.
Like university.
And gaming.
And figuring out how to make his capstone project stop crashing.
And, apparently, Animal Crossing furniture placement.
“Still single,” Wemmbu muttered.
He looked at his character.
“I'm twenty-three.”
As if that explained everything.
Another relative passed by.
Wemmbu immediately pretended to be intensely focused on the game.
The relative glanced at him.
Smiled.
Kept walking.
Wemmbu waited until they were gone.
“I'm never leaving this couch.”
His phone buzzed.
Wemmbu looked down.
A message.
Again.
He unlocked it.
aquaman: yo im outside
Wemmbu blinked.
He glanced toward the front door.
Right.
Jaden.
He had completely forgotten that Jaden was coming over.
He quickly saved his game and stood up.
“I'm opening the door!”
“Alright!” Liva called from somewhere in the dining room.
Wemmbu walked over and opened it.
Jaden stood outside.
“Merry Christmas,” Wemmbu said.
“Merry Christmas.”
Jaden stepped inside.
Wemmbu closed the door behind him.
“Glad you made it.”
“Yeah. Traffic wasn't terrible.”
“Like it should.”
They headed toward the dining room, where the table was finally filled with food.
Wemmbu immediately noticed the mac and cheese.
He pointed at it.
“Look.”
Jaden looked.
“Mac and cheese?”
“My mother made it.”
“Okay?”
“You don't understand?”
“I probably don't.”
“It's important.”
Jaden stared at him for a moment.
“Didn't tell me this last year too?”
“I don't know.”
“That's concerning.”
Wemmbu sat down.
Jaden took the seat across from him.
A few seconds later, Liva brought over the last dish and joined them.
Wemmbu looked around.
Then frowned.
“Where's Rejoice?”
Jaden shrugged.
“Couldn't make it.”
“Oh.”
“He had to choose between coming here with us or spending Christmas with his family.”
Wemmbu nodded.
“Fair.”
“Yeah.”
“Can't blame him.”
“Exactly.”
Wemmbu grabbed some food.
“Besides, I'll see him tomorrow.”
Jaden nodded.
“That's the plan.”
The conversation quickly moved on.
They talked about the mall.
What time they were leaving.
Where they were eating.
Which stores they wanted to visit.
Jaden had apparently already made a list.
Wemmbu had not.
“I'll just figure it out when we get there.”
“You always do that.”
“And it always works.”
“You bought a five-hundred-dollar phone.”
“It was a good phone.”
“You went broke for it.”
“And yet I survived.”
Liva looked over.
“You did not survive.”
Wemmbu pointed at her.
“That's slander.”
“You ate mac and cheese for a week.”
“That's unrelated.”
Jaden laughed.
Wemmbu looked offended.
“This family has no respect for me.”
“You're sitting at a Christmas dinner eating homemade food,” Liva said. “You'll survive.”
Wemmbu sighed dramatically.
“Fine.”
He took another bite.
For the first time that day, he actually felt awake.
Maybe Christmas wasn't so bad.
He had good food.
His mom was happy.
Jaden was here.
Tomorrow, he'd get to see Rejoice too.
It was simple.
Normal.
Nothing particularly interesting.
And honestly?
Wemmbu was perfectly fine with that.
He didn't need anything strange happening in his life.
He'd had enough excitement from university.
For once, boring sounded pretty nice.
He really wanted a kitkat.