Chapter 1 — Fragments of the Future

Jake Bennett

The lavender and espresso scent hit Jake the second the door creaked open. It lingered in the air, mingling with faint notes of citrus from a candle flickering on a cluttered side table. Emma’s East Village apartment was small and mismatched, but it brimmed with personality, much like her. Fairy lights crisscrossed the room, casting a warm, golden glow onto thrifted furniture. Soft jazz floated from an old record player, the melodies mingling with the rhythmic hum of the city beyond the windows—faint honks, distant laughter, the occasional muffled shout.

Jake adjusted his glasses and tugged at the hem of his hoodie. The place looked more like a set piece from one of Emma’s plays than an apartment, and just stepping inside made him feel underdressed. He lingered by the doorway, his sneakers scuffing the floor, his fingers fidgeting with the strap of his messenger bag. His chest felt tight—like the air was thinner here—and the familiar gnaw of social anxiety began to creep in, clawing at his thoughts. Should he have worn something nicer? Did they even want him here, or was this just Emma’s way of keeping the peace?

His friends were scattered around the room, immersed in conversation. Emma, as manic and endearing as ever, flitted between them with a tray of cheese and crackers, her movements so lively she might as well have been performing. She stopped near the window, offering a slice of brie to Matt, who hadn’t even bothered to take off his camera bag. He was perched on the sill, his gaze fixed somewhere beyond the skyline, fingers idly brushing the strap of his lens case as though it might tether him to the moment.

Jake’s eyes darted to Thomas, standing by the bookshelf like some architectural exhibit, tall and composed in a perfectly tailored blazer. His dark hair was neat, not a strand out of place, and his piercing blue eyes were focused on Lily, who stood opposite him with her oversized sweater slightly askew. She clutched a steaming mug of tea, her posture small but her expression sharp. Whatever they were talking about drew a faint crease between Thomas’s brows, his lips pressing into a line, while Lily’s green eyes darted downward, then back up again, as though she were weighing every word.

Jake hesitated, still hovering near the door, his fingers gripping his bag’s strap tightly. He told himself, again, that he was only here because Emma had insisted—and because it felt easier to say yes than to make up an excuse. He hated this feeling, like he was a ghost slipping through a scene he wasn’t really part of. The air in the room felt alive with energy, but none of it seemed to include him.

“Jake! You made it!”

Emma’s voice broke through, louder than the music, louder than his thoughts. She nearly tripped over the edge of the rug in her rush to reach him, grabbing his arm with the same enthusiasm she greeted life in general. Her hand was warm, grounding, as she dragged him into the room.

“What are you doing lurking by the door? Come in! Take up space!” she said, her voice bright, but her words carried a firmness he couldn’t ignore.

Jake laughed awkwardly, trying to mask the nerves prickling his skin. “Yeah, sure. Taking up space. Totally my thing,” he said, throwing in a crooked grin for good measure.

Emma rolled her eyes, smacking his arm lightly. “Don’t start with that. Not tonight, okay? Grab a drink, talk to people. You might actually have fun if you let yourself.”

“Right. Fun. I’ll get right on that,” he quipped, though his tone was softer, less biting, as if the edges of his sarcasm had dulled. He let his gaze wander, briefly landing on Thomas and Lily again. The tension between them was palpable, like a thread pulled taut, ready to snap. Matt had joined them, but he seemed even less engaged, his posture stiff, his eyes darting toward the window as though it might offer him an escape.

Jake grabbed a beer from the kitchen counter, the bottle cold and slick in his hand. He made his way to one of the mismatched armchairs tucked into a quieter corner of the room, settling into it like a spectator at a play. From here, he could observe without being observed, a position that felt safer somehow. He took a slow sip of his drink, the bitterness oddly comforting, and let his shoulders relax fractionally.

Thomas’s voice, calm but edged, cut through the soft background noise, drawing his attention back to the group. “…and the solution is simple. You need to focus on the essentials. Cut out what doesn’t matter.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” Lily shot back, her voice sharp but low, like the quiet crack of distant thunder. “Not everything fits into neat little boxes, Thomas.”

Jake winced inwardly, his fingers tightening around the neck of his beer bottle. He watched as Thomas’s jaw tightened, his expression unreadable, while Lily’s fingers fidgeted with the hem of her sweater. Matt shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his discomfort as clear as the faint sheen of sweat on his brow. The tension in the room was suffocating, pressing down like a weighted blanket.

Emma, ever the peacemaker, swooped in before the air could grow any thicker, her laugh ringing out like a bell. “Okay, okay, let’s not solve the world’s problems tonight,” she said, stepping between them with a disarming grin. “This is supposed to be a party, remember? Let’s talk about something lighter. Like, oh, I don’t know… Jake’s criminally bad taste in movies! Did you know he’s never seen *Casablanca*?”

Jake groaned, sinking deeper into his chair. “Every time, Emma. Every single time.”

“Because it’s a travesty!” she said, throwing her hands up dramatically. “How are we friends if you haven’t seen *Casablanca*? It’s a cultural crime!”

The group chuckled, the sound rippling outward like a stone dropped into still water. Even Thomas smirked, albeit briefly. Jake felt a flicker of gratitude toward Emma—her ability to diffuse situations was unmatched, even if it came at his expense.

But the reprieve was fleeting. As the laughter faded, Lily set her mug down on the windowsill, her movements careful, deliberate. “Actually, there’s something I wanted to mention,” she said, her tone quieter but no less steady. The room seemed to shift, the air growing heavier, thicker, as everyone turned their attention to her.

Jake straightened in his seat, the knot in his stomach tightening. He could feel the energy in the room change, like the moments before a storm broke.

“I’ve been working on an article,” Lily began, her voice carefully measured. “It’s about mental health—specifically among college students. It’s… something I’ve been thinking about for a while. And now that I’ve started digging into it…” She trailed off, her gaze flitting downward, as if the words had grown too heavy to carry.

Thomas folded his arms across his chest, his expression unreadable. “And how does that involve us?” he asked, his tone cool.

Lily hesitated, her fingers brushing against the hem of her sweater again. “It doesn’t. Not directly. I just thought… you should know. In case it brings up… memories.”

The word hung in the air, heavy and unspoken. Memories. Jake’s chest tightened. She didn’t have to elaborate for them to understand. Their late friend. The shadow that loomed over every room they entered, every interaction they shared.

“Memories,” Thomas echoed softly, his gaze shifting toward the window. His voice was low, almost to himself, but the weight of it lingered. His piercing blue eyes darkened, and for just a moment, something flickered across his face—something unguarded, raw—before his expression hardened again.

The silence that followed was unbearable. Jake resisted the urge to shrink into the chair, his hands gripping the beer bottle tighter. He felt like someone should say something, anything, to bridge the gap before it grew wider.

“Well, uh, good for you, Lily,” Jake said finally, his voice a little too loud, a little too forced. “I mean, it sounds like an important topic. I’m sure whatever you’re working on, it’s, uh… meaningful.”

Lily looked at him, her lips twitching into a small, grateful smile. “Thanks, Jake.”

Emma clapped her hands together, her cheerfulness almost jarring. “Okay! Time for another round of drinks, don’t you think? Who’s with me?”

The group began to disperse, the tension loosening but not entirely gone. Jake stayed in his corner, watching as Emma dragged Thomas toward the kitchen, her voice bright and insistent. Lily returned to the window, her gaze distant, while Matt finally pulled out his camera, fiddling with the lens as if it could shield him from the world.

Jake leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly. The room felt like it was made of glass—fragile, beautiful, but ready to crack under the weight of all the things left unsaid. And yet, here they all were, trying to hold the pieces together.

For now, it was enough.