Infinite - Volume 1

Evan sat in his cluttered room, the dim glow of his computer screen painting shifting shadows on the walls. He was deep in an online game-the kind of world he could vanish into for hours without blinking. The rhythmic clatter of his keyboard and the occasional muttered curse were the only sounds.

Then came the smell.

It crept through the crack beneath his door, dragging him back to reality. Freshly baked bread. Melting cheese. Crisp, sizzling bacon. His stomach growled before he could stop it, stirred by something deeper than hunger-memories of better days. Simpler ones. His mother's cooking had always been one of the few things that could lure him out of hiding.

He heard muffled laughter and conversation through the door, followed by his mother's voice calling, "Ebby, dinner's ready!"

Ugh, that name again.

His jaw tightened, a flicker of irritation curling in his chest, though he couldn't ignore the familiar warmth that came with it.

"Okay! I'll be there in a minute!" he called out, forcing a lightness into his voice that wasn't really there.

"Hurry, or it'll get cold!" Her voice carried that firm, motherly urgency.

His grip on his mouse tightened. A sharp exhale. "I said I'll be there in a minute!" The words shot out harsher than intended, but the thought of dragging himself downstairs, of wading into conversation and expectations, made his skin prickle. The walls of his room felt safer-quieter.

As the laughter faded, footsteps approached his door.

Knock knock.

"Come in," he called, resigned.

"Hey, honey, I brought you a plate," she said, stepping inside with a small dish of food.

"Thanks, Mom," he replied.

She leaned against the wall, arms crossed, her expression a mix of warmth and urgency.

"Remember to say hi to your brother before he leaves," she urged, a small frown creasing her brow. "It's been ages since you've seen each other."

Evan didn't look up at first. He hesitated, fingers frozen above the keyboard.

"I know," he mumbled, almost too quietly. Then, a beat later-

"I will. Promise."

Her expression softened.

"Enjoy your meal," she said gently, starting to turn away.

As she stepped out, Evan called after her-not loud, not emotional, just enough.

"Thanks, Mom."

She paused at the doorway, smiling.

"Please close the door behind you," he added quickly, awkwardly.

Sinking back into his chair, Evan let out a quiet, contented sigh and pushed his keyboard aside. A few clicks later, the game vanished, replaced by the red-and-white glow of YouTube's homepage. His eyes scanned the wall of thumbnails, half-focused, until one caught his attention-just interesting enough to hold him over while he ate.

The first bite of mashed potatoes stopped him mid-chew.

Damn. She really outdid herself this time. The creamy texture, the subtle pop of seasoning, the bits of potato skin giving it just the right bite-perfect.

He scooped up another forkful, letting the buttery warmth linger on his tongue before moving on to the bread. A satisfying crunch gave way to a pillowy softness, the rich garlic butter melting into every crevice. He let out a small, appreciative hum.