Chapter 2: New day

Ren was rushing through their small, cluttered apartment, balancing a coffee mug in one hand and his work jacket slung over his shoulder. 

The morning light filtered dimly through the cheap blinds, casting long shadows across the cluttered floor. 

In the corner, David sat on the edge of his bed, fumbling with his shoelaces.

The soles were frayed, and the fabric on the sides had started to peel, exposing the thin material underneath. 

Ren glanced at him, his brow furrowing in frustration.

“David, why are you still wearing those?” 

Ren said, setting his mug on the counter with a dull thud. 

“I bought you new ones last week. They’re in the box, right there, under the bed.”

David shrugged, avoiding his older brother’s gaze. 

“They’re fine. These still work.”

“David.” 

Ren’s voice softened, but there was an edge of exasperation that he wished to suppress. 

He knelt to his brother’s level, meeting his eyes as he buttoned up his shirt for him. 

“I worked overtime for three weeks to afford those. You’re not doing me or yourself any favors walking around in shoes that are one step away from falling apart.”

David glanced down at his feet, still avoiding Ren’s eyes; his lips pressing into a thin line. 

“I just don’t want mess them up,” he muttered. 

“What if they get ruined at school? These are already ruined, so it doesn’t matter.”

Ren sighed.

Their financial situation was no secret to David. 

He knew Ren did everything he could— from working double shifts to skipping meals to save money. 

David always seemed acutely aware of their struggles even if he didn’t speak of it to his brother or his mother, respecting their attempts to shield him from it.  

He wanted to spare Ren where he could, even if it meant holding on to things long past their usefulness.

Ren gently tapped the side of David’s worn sneaker. 

“Look, I get it. But you deserve to have nice things too. Those new shoes? They’re for you, not for me. So promise me you’ll wear them tomorrow, alright?”

David hesitated but eventually nodded.

Ren smiled faintly, standing up and grabbing his keys. 

“Now come on, we’re both late. Let’s move before you miss your bus and my boss decides today’s the day to make an example out of me.”

***

The bus stop was roughly a ten-minute walk from the house.

With time to spare, this walk became the only moment the two brothers could savor a hint of normalcy.

Memories of their mother bringing them to the bus stop filtered through Ren’s mind. 

For a moment, he wondered if he should hold David’s hand, as their mother used to.

In the end, he decided against it. 

‘David was older now; he might not appreciate it.’

They walked in silence, their steps accompanied only by the faint rustling of leaves in the early morning breeze. 

Soon, the bus stop came into view, a familiar sight etched into their routine.

The brothers sat on the bench, waiting. 

The chill of the morning wind seeped into their bones. 

Ren noticed David shivering slightly and instinctively put his arm around his younger brother, pulling him close. 

David leaned in, grateful for the warmth.

“Won’t you be late for work?” 

David asked, his voice trembling with the cold.

“I can wait for the bus with you,” Ren replied. 

“I can always run to work after.”

He pulled out his phone. 

“Want to talk to Mom?”

David nodded eagerly. 

Ren smiled as he dialed her number. 

The phone rang and rang.

He glanced down at his brother, whose expectant eyes mirrored his own silent plea.

‘Come on, Mom. Pick up. Please.’

But she didn’t.

“I think there’s some problem with the cell network ,” Ren said softly.

David nodded, his gaze dropping to the ground. 

Trying to mask his disappointment.

“Yeah”

David kicked his feet. 

Ren felt the kid’s disappointment but the quiet moment was broken by an abrupt sound—a sharp rip followed by a flapping noise. 

Ren looked down and saw David’s face losing all colour, his worn-out shoe giving way. 

The sole dangled, barely holding on, as David awkwardly tried to get up and stomp it back into its place

“David,” Ren sighed, rubbing his temples. 

“Why didn’t you just wear the new shoes I bought you?”

David froze, his gaze dropping to his broken shoe. 

“I… I like these ones better,” he mumbled, his voice small and hesitant.

Ren closed his eyes, exhaling slowly through his nose to keep his frustration at bay. 

‘Why does he always make things harder than they need to be?’

The thought came unbidden, sharp and accusatory.

But then he glanced at David, who was now biting his lip, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. 

He was just a kid, clinging to what was familiar, maybe even to something that reminded him of their father.

“It’s fine,” Ren said, softening his tone. 

“Just sit tight. I’ll go back and get the new ones.”

“You don’t have to,” David said, though he didn’t sound as convincing as he would like to believe. 

“I’ll just manage.”

“You can’t manage with a shoe falling apart,” Ren replied, already standing. 

“Wait here. Don’t move.”

Without another word, Ren took off, sprinting back toward the house. 

The cold air stung his lungs, and the sound of his footsteps crackling in the quiet of the street. 

His thoughts, however, weren’t so silent.

‘Why can’t he just listen?’

‘I already have so much to deal with—work, bills, and looking after him. And now this.’

‘Why do I have to run back now because he refused to wear those shoes?’

Ren clenched his jaw, trying to shake the negativity loose. 

David was only a kid, one dealing with circumstances that were far beyond his years. 

He didn’t deserve Ren’s anger. 

Still, the pressure of trying to keep everything together was like a weight pressing on his chest.

By the time Ren reached the house, his frustration had faded into guilt. 

He grabbed the new shoes, their pristine condition mocking him. 

He’s just a kid, he reminded himself again, repeating it like a mantra as he ran back to the bus stop.

David was still sitting on the bench when Ren arrived, his legs swinging nervously. 

His face lit up when he saw his brother, but there was a tinge of guilt in his expression, as though he knew the trouble he’d caused.

“Here,” Ren said, kneeling to help him put on the new shoes. 

“You should’ve worn these in the first place.”

David nodded silently.

When the shoes were snug on his feet, David murmured, “Thanks, Ren.”

Ren gave him a tired smile, ruffling his hair. 

“Next time, just listen, okay?”

David looked down at his shoes. 

“Sorry,” he whispered.

The apology hit Ren harder than he expected. 

He sighed and pulled David into a quick hug. 

“It’s fine. Just… take care of yourself, alright?”

‘That was a close call. Good thing that I was able to make it before the bus-’

The realization hit Ren like a cold wave.

“David—did the bus already—?”

“Yes.” 

David nodded slowly, his voice quiet as he wrapped his arms tighter around his brother.

‘It already left.’

Ren’s chest tightened, his breaths coming in short, frantic bursts as his eyes darted down the empty street.

“No, no, no,” he muttered under his breath, panic clawing its way into his mind.

“I’m sorry, I—” David began, but Ren stood abruptly, brushing the dust off his hands.

Reaching down, he offered his hand to David, who took it without hesitation. 

Ren gave a gentle squeeze, pulling his younger brother to his feet, and they started walking toward the school together.

David walked in silence beside him, his sneakers squeaking faintly against the damp pavement. 

He kept his head down, avoiding Ren’s gaze, and the weight of his unspoken guilt hung heavily in the air. 

Ren hated seeing him like this, the quiet remorse etched into his small frame. 

The silence between them pressed down like a heavy fog, their hurried steps echoing the anxious rhythm of Ren’s thoughts.

“Hey, it’s okay, alright? It’s not the end of the world,” Ren said, his voice strained but gentle as he glanced down at David.

David nodded, but his slumped shoulders betrayed his lingering guilt. 

Ren could tell the boy was caught in an endless loop of regret, replaying the morning’s events over and over.

Running a hand through his hair, Ren’s mind raced.

‘I’m going to be late for work now. I can’t afford this. But David…’

His pulse quickened, and so did his pace. 

David struggled to keep up, his shorter legs working overtime as he tried to match Ren’s stride. 

He didn’t complain, but the effort showed in his labored breaths.

It wasn’t until Ren felt a slight tug that he glanced down and noticed how hard David was trying. 

The sight made his chest ache.

Ren slowed his pace and shot David an apologetic look.

‘This is more important.’

‘He is more important.’

David immediately noticed the change and tugged at Ren’s arm, trying to pull him forward. 

“Let’s go! You’ll be late for work! If you’re late for work—”

“Then I’ll be late for work. That’s all,” Ren interrupted calmly.

“But won’t you—”

“Yeah, I might get yelled at,” Ren admitted, then added with a playful grin, “but only if I get caught. I’ll sneak in through the back like a ninja!”

David couldn’t help but chuckle at that.

“Like a ninja!” he echoed, his laughter lightening the mood.

The brothers shared a much-needed laugh, their earlier tension melting away.

“I’m sorry,” David said after a moment. 

“I should have listened to you.”

“You should have, dummy,” Ren teased, ruffling David’s hair. 

“Your old shoes were a mess.”

“You’re right…” 

David mumbled, a sheepish smile forming on his lips.

As they neared the school, the building came into view, along with groups of kids arriving—some stepping off buses, others being dropped off by their parents.

Ren let go of David’s hand, offering him a reassuring smile. 

“Alright, I’ve to run now.”

“Okay,” David said quietly.

Ren had just turned to leave when he felt arms wrap tightly around him. 

He looked down to see David hugging him.

For a moment, they stayed like that, sharing an unspoken bond stronger than words. 

Finally, Ren pulled away, giving David one last smile before breaking into a sprint toward work.

***

Ren approached the back door to the kitchen with practiced steps, his shoes skimming over gravel as quietly as he could manage. 

This was routine by now—the quiet click of the latch, the brief burst of kitchen heat against his face, and the hope that no one would see him slip inside.

‘No one needs to know I’m late again’ he thought. 

The staff entrance was tucked away behind the building, a narrow, half-hidden door that creaked if you weren’t careful. 

Ren had learned to pull it open slowly, to keep the hinges from betraying him.

He exhaled quietly, pressing down the nerves threatening to wriggle their way up his throat.

‘Why am I even doing this?’ Ren thought, clutching the door tight. 

‘She’ll just tell me I’m late again. That I’m irresponsible. That I—’

“Ren.”

The sharp voice made him freeze. 

Like ice water poured down his spine, he turned, finding Abe, the restaurant manager, blocking his escape route. 

Arms crossed, dark eyes narrowed, she looked like someone who’d been expecting trouble. 

Ren swallowed hard.

“What exactly do you think you’re doing?” she asked, voice low and dangerous.

“I—I was just—”

“Don’t,” Abe cut him off, stepping forward. “Do you think I don’t know what you’re up to? Sneaking around, slacking off, showing up late for shifts. Do you think that doesn’t reflect poorly on all of us? On me? You want me to believe you’re serious about this job when you can’t even show up on time?”

Her words hit like jabs, each sharper than the last. Ren’s head dropped, shame pooling in his chest like oil.

‘You don’t get it’, he thought bitterly.

“Abe, please,” he started again, but she was on a roll now.

“This isn’t some after-school hobby. This is a professional kitchen. And I’m not going to cover for you when you—”

“Abe!”

The booming voice cut through like a cleaver. 

Chef Stu stood in the doorway to the kitchen, white chef’s coat smeared with the day’s work, arms like tree trunks folded across his chest. 

He had a way of filling a room without trying. Abe turned sharply to face him, clearly irritated at the interruption.

“Stay out of this, Stu.”

“No,” Stu said firmly, stepping forward. 

His heavy boots thudded against the tile, echoing. 

He glanced at Ren, and there was something softer in his gaze—something that only made Ren’s throat tighten more. 

“Lay off the kid, Abe. He’s not slacking. You know what he’s dealing with at home.”

Abe blinked, caught off guard. “That’s not an excuse for—”

“He just lost his father, Abe,” Stu snapped, voice rising. 

“You want to talk about responsibility? He’s picking up shifts, trying to keep his head above water. And you think harassing him in the hallway is going to fix anything?”

The words sliced through Ren like a razor, and he winced. 

‘Don’t’, he thought, panic rising. 

‘Don’t bring him up. Don’t—’

Abe didn’t back down. 

“I have a restaurant to run, Stu. If he’s struggling, he needs to say something. He can’t just hide behind—”

“Oh, for God’s sake, have some compassion!” Stu barked, stepping forward.

Ren flinched again. 

His pulse thundered in his ears, Abe’s retort lost beneath the roar of his own thoughts. 

They were fighting now, full-on yelling over him, over his life, over things he didn’t want to talk about. 

He shifted on his feet, hands shaking as he clutched the ends of his jacket tighter.

‘Why do people always do this? Why do they need to shout at each other? Why do they think that would solve anything-”

Stu’s voice boomed. 

“You’d do well to remember that not every kid has someone at home to pick up the pieces!”

Abe snapped back. 

“And you’d do well to remember this is a job, not a charity case!”

‘Stop.’, Ren thought, his mind spiraling. 

‘Stop talking about me like I’m not here.’

His legs began to tremble. He tried to steady them but he couldn’t.

That’s when it dawned on him. It wasn’t his legs that were shaking. 

The tile floor beneath his feet suddenly gave a soft, strange tremor. Ren’s brow furrowed, thoughts grinding to a halt. 

“What was that?”

Stu and Abe didn’t notice—they were too locked into their argument, voices cutting sharper and louder.

Then the floor lurched. 

The walls groaned.

Ren’s head shot up as the fluorescent lights above flickered. 

A low rumble rolled through the air, like a growl from deep within the earth itself. 

Stu’s sentence broke off mid-word. 

Abe stumbled slightly, eyes widening.

The ground shook.

Earthquake.

Ren’s breath caught, his entire body frozen as the kitchen doors flapped violently behind Stu. 

A stack of pans crashed somewhere out of sight. 

Abe’s voice was suddenly sharp in a different way. 

“Ren—get down!”

It was over in seconds, but those seconds felt stretched, like time itself had liquified. 

Ren barely heard Stu bark orders to the kitchen staff through the roar in his ears. 

He crouched low, arms bracing himself, every muscle tense.

And then, stillness.

The building settled. 

The fluorescent lights buzzed back to life.

Ren’s knees felt weak as he pushed himself upright, glancing nervously at Abe and Stu. 

Neither of them said anything for a moment, breathing hard as they scanned for damage.

He let out a shaky breath. 

The shame, the anger, everything would still be there waiting for him, but for now, the earthquake had given him a reprieve—one he wasn’t sure how to feel about.