With a resigned sigh, Leo kicked the covers aside and sat up. His dark hair stuck out in messy tufts, the kind that no comb in existence could fully tame. He blinked the sleep from his eyes and rubbed the back of his neck, staring at the uniform draped neatly over his chair. His mother had placed it there the night before, as she always did, quietly ensuring her son started each day prepared.

Leo dressed quickly, sliding into the navy blazer and crisp white shirt, his tie hanging loosely around his neck until he knotted it half-heartedly. Standing before the mirror, he inspected himself—just another boy in a school uniform. Nothing special. No golden eyes, no secrets, no wild forests clinging to his soul. Just Leo.

“Leo! Breakfast!” 

his mother’s voice rang out from the kitchen, warm yet insistent.

“Coming!" 

 he called back, slipping his socks on before grabbing his bag.

The kitchen was filled with the comforting sounds of morning—plates clinking, the soft sizzle of eggs frying. His mother stood at the stove, her long hair tied into a bun, wearing the same apron she’d owned for years, faded with time. She turned at his arrival, her face lighting up with that familiar smile that always made Leo’s heart soften.

“Morning, sweetheart,”

 she greeted, placing scrambled eggs onto a plate.

 “Sit down, eat before it gets cold.”

Leo slid into his chair, already reaching for the toast stacked neatly in a basket. 

“Morning, Mom.”

They shared a quiet moment, the kind of silence that wasn’t empty but comfortable. Leo buttered his toast, eyes still heavy with sleep, while his mother poured him a glass of orange juice.

“You’ve been studying late again,”

 she observed, sitting down across from him with her own cup of tea. 

“I could hear your lamp on past midnight.”

Leo shrugged.

 “Exams are coming up. I just want to be ready.”

“You always say that, even when you’re already ahead of everyone else,” 

she teased gently.

 “Don’t overwork yourself, Leo. You’ll burn out.”

He smiled faintly, though his eyes dropped to his plate.

 “I know… I just want to do well.”

“You always do well,” 

she said firmly, reaching across the table to squeeze his hand. 

“Don’t forget to live, too.”

Her words lingered longer than he expected. Live. Sometimes he wondered what that meant for him. His life was school, home, and the occasional weekend outing with friends. It was ordinary, safe, and predictable. But deep inside, in a place he couldn’t quite name, he sometimes felt as though he was waiting for something—or someone—he couldn’t remember.

Shaking the thought away, he finished his breakfast and grabbed his bag.

 “I’ll be late if I don’t go now.”

“Have a good day, sweetheart.”

She stood at the door to see him off, as she always did, waving until he disappeared down the street.

----

The streets buzzed with morning energy. Students in uniforms flocked toward the same destination, the air filled with laughter, chatter, and the occasional shout of someone running to catch up with friends. Leo walked with an easy stride, not rushing, his earbuds tucked in as music filled the quiet spaces of his mind.

“Leo!”

A familiar voice cut through the noise, and he turned to see Liam jogging up to him. Liam was taller, broad-shouldered, his tie already loosened like he didn’t care about dress codes. His grin was wide and careless, the type of smile that made people instinctively like him.

“You walk too fast, man,” 

Liam complained, slinging an arm around Leo’s shoulder. 

“What’s the point of being neighbors if you don’t wait for me?”

“You oversleep every morning,”

 Leo pointed out with a smirk.

“Details, details,”

 Liam dismissed, waving a hand. 

“Anyway, did you finish the math homework? I totally forgot.”

Leo sighed, but there was amusement in his eyes.

 “Yeah. I’ll show you at lunch.”

“You’re the best.”

They arrived at the school gates just as Johan joined them. Unlike Liam, Johan was neat and precise, his tie perfectly in place, his bag carried on his back without a wrinkle. His sharp gaze flicked between his two friends, lingering on Liam’s loosened tie with a judgmental frown.

“You look like you just rolled out of bed,” Johan muttered.

“I did,” Liam shot back, unbothered.

Leo chuckled softly, falling into the rhythm of their banter. The three of them were an unlikely trio—Leo, the quiet one; Liam, the reckless one; Johan, the perfectionist. And yet, together, they balanced each other out.

Classes passed in a blur. The chalk squeaked against the blackboard, pens scratched across notebooks, and the monotony of routine settled in. Leo paid attention, as he always did, jotting down notes diligently. But sometimes his gaze drifted out the window, to the sky above or the line of trees visible in the distance.

Something about the way the wind swayed those branches felt familiar. Nostalgic. But he didn’t know why.

---

At lunch, the trio sat under their usual tree in the courtyard, unpacking lunches and tossing jokes back and forth. Liam stole half of Johan’s sandwich, earning a glare and a smack on the arm, while Leo watched with an amused smile.

“You guys are exhausting,” 

Leo muttered, sipping his juice box.

“You love us,” 

Liam said, grinning.

“Unfortunately,”

 Johan muttered, but even his lips curved slightly.

For a moment, it was easy. Ordinary. Exactly what high school life was supposed to be.

---

The final bell rang, and students poured out of classrooms like streams of water breaking free. Leo packed his bag slowly, waiting for the rush to thin out. As he stepped into the hallway, a soft breeze brushed his face. The windows along the corridor were open, the curtains swaying gently.

For a fleeting second, he thought he smelled something—earthy, wild, like pine and smoke. His steps faltered. The sound of the forest. The image of silver fur glinting under moonlight. A pair of golden eyes.

Leo blinked, and the sensation was gone. Just the sound of students laughing, lockers clanging shut, the chatter of ordinary life.

“Leo!” Liam called from the stairs. 

“You coming?”

“Yeah,” Leo replied quickly, shaking his head as though to clear it.

 “I’m coming.”

He didn’t mention what he’d felt. After all, it was probably nothing.

Just his imagination.