The bed creaked continuously, the baseboard of hitting the wall then..stilled completely.

Jade peeled her manicured hand off Milo’s chest like she couldn’t get away fast enough. Not that he expected anything different, she always wanted it when it made her look good. A quick fuck so she could take a selfie with his arm slung lazily around her waist, then bolt upright like nothing had happened.

He watched her through his lashes as she posed by the window, the sunlight hitting her just right. Her phone made that artificial shutter sound. Caption already forming in her head, probably something fake-sweet and obnoxious.

"My boyfriend loves me sooo much~ 💋💋💋"

She didn’t even look back as she left the room.

Milo exhaled through his nose. No tension, no frustration, just...tired. He sat up, running a hand through his hair, dark strands falling messily back into place. The sheets stuck a little to his skin, still warm from the half-assed effort that had just happened. That wasn’t sex. Hell, it wasn’t even closeness. It was maintenance. An empty performance so she could keep pretending he was some trophy to show off.

But he didn’t say any of that. He never did.

Instead, he pulled on a black old band tee and jeans, snatched his guitar from the wall hook, and stepped out into the garage. The sun was still high, late afternoon light spilling through the open door, slicing shadows across the concrete floor. The scent of oil and sawdust lingered from whatever project his stepdad had abandoned earlier that week.

Milo sat on a stool by the workbench, letting the familiar weight of his guitar settle against his thighs. He tuned by ear, always had. His fingers moved slow and practiced, rolling over the strings until they sang the way they were supposed to.

Then, he started to play.

The melody was soft at first, something bluesy and hollow. He lost himself in the rhythm, every slide of his fingers across the fretboard grounding him a little more. This? this was peace. This was the one thing that never asked for anything from him. No masks. No expectations. Just sound.

He barely heard the door creak open behind him.

“Can you not play that sad shit right now?” Jade’s voice pierced the quiet like a thorn through skin.

He didn’t look up. Just shifted the chord.

“I’m serious,” she huffed, stepping closer. “You always act like everything’s so hard for you, Milo. Maybe if you actually talked once in a while instead of moping like a kicked dog—”

“Mhm,” he muttered, not missing a note.

“Oh my god, you’re so mature,” she snapped.

“Yeah.”

She kept going, some rant about him being distant, boring, whatever but her voice faded under the music. He didn’t care. Wouldn’t give her the reaction she wanted.

Then...

CRACK!!

A thunderous shriek ripped across the sky. Milo’s hands froze on the strings.

He jerked his head up just in time to see it, something massive slicing through the clouds, glowing hot at the edges, tearing toward the earth like a fucking meteor. The garage windows rattled. Jade screamed, ducking behind the car.

Then—BOOM.

The ground shook. Dust exploded into the air. Trees split. Something collided hard with the back lot, tearing up soil and smashing through the fence like paper. The air smelled like scorched metal and ozone.

For a few long seconds, there was nothing but the ringing in his ears.

Milo dropped the guitar onto the workbench and ran.

The backyard was unrecognizable. Smoke curled up from a deep crater in the lawn. Pieces of twisted silver and black metal stuck out at sharp angles, glowing with heat. And in the center of it all was something that looked like—

No. It was a spaceship.

Milo blinked, chest rising and falling, the rational part of his brain scrambling for some kind of explanation. Plane crash? Military test? Movie set?

Nothing fit.

He took slow steps forward, cautious but pulled by instinct. The closer he got, the more detail he could make out. The ship was slick and curved, scarred with impact burns. Vents hissed as they cooled. Something inside shifted.

He paused near the edge of the crater, eyes narrowing. “...What the fuck,” he muttered under his breath.

Then he saw movement, something opening. A hatch, maybe. Someone or something was in there. Milo didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

Just stood his ground, heart pounding steady in his chest, staring down whatever the hell had just crash-landed into his life.

His voice came out low, unreadable.

“...Where did you come from?”