Midnight Cables and Green Smoothies

Marcus's sneakers slapped the pavement at 2:47 AM, exactly like every other night since summer began. Running wasn't just exercise—it was escape. From the expectations. From the silence. From the version of himself that felt completely wrong.

His phone buzzed in his pocket—probably another text from Jazmine asking why he'd bailed on their Discord call. Again.

"Whatever," he muttered, turning toward the park. That's when he saw it: a figure hunched near the old utility pole, fiddling with something in the dark.

Marcus froze. Was this it? His first real encounter with actual danger? He'd spent hours imagining heroic scenarios, but now that it was happening, his legs felt like lead. The figure moved, and a streetlamp flickered on.

"Marcus?"

"Liam?"

His cross-country rival straightened up, holding a fistful of cables. "Don't... don't tell anyone, okay?"

Marcus stepped closer. "What are you doing?"

"My internet's garbage, so I'm stealing from the park's connection." Liam waved the cables. "My mom thinks I'm into some innocent tech stuff. She'd kill me if she knew."

They stood there, two seventeen-year-olds in the middle of the night, bonded by illegal internet and mutual desperation.

"You running too?" Marcus asked.

Liam nodded. "Every night. Trying to make varsity, but..."

"But what?"

"But my dad keeps making these spinach smoothies." Liam made a face. "Says it's for 'performance.' I literally puked behind the school gym yesterday."

Marcus burst out laughing. And for the first time since June, the tightness in his chest loosened.

"My mom's obsessed with spinach too," Marcus said. "She thinks it'll fix my 'attitude problem.'"

"Bro, your attitude's fine."

They sat on the curb while Liam worked his cable magic. They talked about everything—how much pressure sucked, how exhausting it was to always be "on," how neither of them actually liked running but did it anyway.

"Why do we do it?" Marcus asked eventually.

Liam finished connecting the cables. "Because maybe, somewhere in all this misery, we'll figure out who we actually are."

The park's WiFi signal strengthened on Marcus's phone. A notification popped up: Jazmine had sent him a DM. "Everything okay? You've been off lately."

Marcus stared at it. Then he typed back: "Not really. But I'm working on it."

"Good," she replied instantly. "I'm here."

Liam gathered his stolen cable connection. "Same time tomorrow?"

"Yeah," Marcus said, and for once, the lie didn't feel like one.

Running home, Marcus realized something: he was still exhausted, still confused, still terrified of who he was becoming. But somehow, that felt okay. Some spinach in the blender, some cables in the night, and someone who got it—that might be enough.