Haze’s little sister, Mia, walks in on him fighti
Haze’s little sister, Mia, walks in on him fighting a dummy in a fighting room. She was wearing an white shirt and overalls with yellow rain boots. Her hair was blonde, like her brothers but more light, wavy-curly waist-length and her eyes were a deep blue. She was covered in dirt from head to toe, and she was holding a glass bottle with different bugs and worms in it. Mia was someone who loved playing in mud and learning/discovering new things–that was what her brother adored about her but it was also something that scared him. That she was too curious–he always was a bit protective over her. He was bare, and his muscles were tense and dripping sweat. He looked focused and blue sparks of electricity were coming off him. “Need something?” Haze said quietly, as he reached for a towel. “My little scientist?”
Mia grinned, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Haze! Can you make time go faster? I want to see what happens to these worms when they get older!”
He sighed, placing the towel on the bench beside him. “Mia, you know I can’t just speed up time for a bunch of worms. It’s not like…” he trailed off, unable to finish the thought. It wasn’t like he could speed up time for his own life, for his own grief. He couldn’t bring back their parents, couldn’t rewind the clock to before the classified accident that took them.
“Why not?” Mia pressed, her brow furrowing. “You can do everything else with time. You can go back, you can go forward, you can even freeze it. Why not just make these worms grow up fast?”
Haze avoided her gaze, his amber eyes clouding with a sadness that was too deep for his young years. “It’s not that simple,” he mumbled, picking up a small, dusty notebook from the floor. It was filled with calculations, notes, and diagrams about time manipulation. He was always studying, always trying to understand his power, but it was a heavy burden. “Sometimes, Mia,” he said, turning to face her, his expression softening, “Sometimes, even with all the time in the world, you can’t change things.”
Mia looked at him, her usual sparkle of curiosity dimmed by a flicker of understanding. She reached out and touched the glass bottle, her fingers tracing the outline of the wriggling worms. “But, you can still make things better, right? Even if you can’t go back, you can still make a good future, right?”
Haze swallowed, surprised by the wisdom in her innocent question. It was a simple question, yet it carried the weight of his own unspoken struggle. He glanced at the notebook, then back at his sister. “Yes, Mia. You’re right. We can make things better, even if we can’t change the past.” He picked up the bottle, careful not to drop it. “Maybe we can take care of these worms, make them grow up healthy. We can make a good future for them.”
Mia grinned, her eyes lighting up again. “That sounds fun! Can we give them names?”
Haze smiled back, a genuine, warm smile that broke through the solemn mask he usually wore. “Of course, Mia. We can give them names.” As he walked out of the room, he felt a small flicker of hope, a tiny spark of warmth in the depths of his loneliness. Maybe, just maybe, the future wasn’t so bleak after all. Maybe, with his sister by his side, he could find a way to make things better, even if he couldn’t change the past. (continue with—> Chester, a guy with the ability to shape shift that was known for saying what was on his mind and cussing like his life depended on it–teasing Haze like he was his younger brother as a way to stop Haze from always being so hard on himself)
The fighting room echoed with the thud of Haze’s fist against the dummy, a sound amplified by the silence of the old, dusty house. He was a whirlwind of motion, a blur of focused aggression, his bare chest slick with sweat. Blue sparks crackled around his fists as he unleashed his power, each blow packing the raw force of a lightning strike. But he was not fighting an enemy. He was fighting himself, his grief, his burden.
The door creaked open, shattering the rhythm of his exertion. Mia, his little sister, stood in the doorway, a vision of sunshine and mud. Her white shirt was stained with dirt, her overalls smeared with grime, and her bright yellow rainboots were plastered with mud. In her hand, she held a glass jar teeming with squirming, wriggling creatures. It was a sight that would send chills down the spine of most, but Haze only smiled faintly.
“Need something?” he asked, his voice gruff, his muscles tense. “My little scientist?”
Mia grinned, her blue eyes sparkling with mischief. “Haze! Can you make time go faster? I want to see what happens to these worms when they get older!”
Haze sighed, dropping the towel he had been about to grab. “Mia, you know I can’t just speed up time for a bunch of worms. It’s not like…” He trailed off, the words catching in his throat. It wasn’t like he could speed up time for his own life, for his own grief. He couldn’t bring back their parents, couldn’t rewind the clock to before the classified accident that took them.
“Why not?” Mia pressed, her brow furrowing. “You can do everything else with time. You can go back, you can go forward, you can even freeze it. Why not just make these worms grow up fast?”
Haze avoided her gaze, his amber eyes clouding with a sadness that was too deep for his young years. “It’s not that simple,” he mumbled, picking up a small, dusty notebook from the floor. It was filled with calculations, notes, and diagrams about time manipulation. He was always studying, always trying to understand his power, but it was a heavy burden. “Sometimes, Mia,” he said, turning to face her, his expression softening, “Sometimes, even with all the time in the world, you can’t change things.”
Mia looked at him, her usual sparkle of curiosity dimmed by a flicker of understanding. She reached out and touched the glass bottle, her fingers tracing the outline of the wriggling worms. “But, you can still make things better, right? Even if you can’t go back, you can still make a good future, right?”
Haze swallowed, surprised by the wisdom in her innocent question. It was a simple question, yet it carried the weight of his own unspoken struggle. He glanced at the notebook, then back at his sister. “Yes, Mia. You’re right. We can make things better, even if we can’t change the past.” He picked up the bottle, careful not to drop it. “Maybe we can take care of these worms, make them grow up healthy. We can make a good future for them.”
Mia grinned, her eyes lighting up again. “That sounds fun! Can we give them names?”
Haze smiled back, a genuine, warm smile that broke through the solemn mask he usually wore. “Of course, Mia. We can give them names.” As he walked out of the room, he felt a small flicker of hope, a tiny spark of warmth in the depths of his loneliness. Maybe, just maybe, the future wasn’t so bleak after all. Maybe, with his sister by his side, he could find a way to make things better, even if he couldn’t change the past.
The front door swung open with a bang, and Chester, a man with the ability to shape shift, stumbled in, a mischievous grin plastered on his face. He was always teasing Haze, his laughter echoing through the house, a jarring contrast to the quiet grief that clung to Haze like a shroud.
“Hey, kiddo!” Chester called out, his voice booming, his large frame filling the doorway. “Heard you were practicing your thunder-punch. I’d say you’ve got some serious power, kid. But why are you so goddamn serious all the time? You need to loosen up, kid. Life ain’t all about punching things, you know.” He winked, his eyes twinkling with amusement.
Haze’s expression remained stoic. “It’s not a game, Chester,” he said, his voice low, his gaze fixed on the floor. “Some things can’t be fixed.”
Chester’s grin softened. He knew what Haze meant. He knew the burden of grief, the weight of loss. “Sure, some things can’t be fixed. But that doesn’t mean you can’t make things better, kid. It doesn’t mean you can’t make things brighter. You’ve got a power that could change the world, Haze. Don’t waste it on punching bags. Use it to build something better, something brighter. Use it to make your sister smile.”
Haze looked up, a flicker of uncertainty in his amber eyes.
Chester smiled, his voice taking on a gentler tone. “Just saying, kid. You’re not alone. We’re all in this together. And maybe, just maybe, you’ll find that your power can heal more than just wounds. It can heal hearts, too. And trust me, Haze, you’re gonna need a whole lot of healing.”
Haze nodded slowly, a small flicker of hope flickering in his eyes. He looked at Mia, who was now carefully examining the worms in her jar. He smiled, a genuine, unguarded smile, and for a moment, the weight of grief seemed to lift, replaced by a glimmer of something stronger, something brighter.
Maybe, just maybe, Chester was right. Maybe, he could find a way to use his power to build something better, something brighter. Maybe, he could find a way to heal, not just himself, but his sister, and the world around them.
And as he watched Mia’s face light up with joy, he knew, deep down, that he was not just going to survive. He was going to thrive. He was going to make things better. He was going to make things brighter. He was going to live.
