Chapter Text
It wasn’t my fault.
I didn’t mean for this to happen.
I didn’t wanted to kill her.
The alarm clock rang at exactly seven. He groped for the button, pressed it, and sank back into his pillow for a moment.
Outside, he heard the sounds of his neighbours—the sunlight streaming through the window and warming his face while listening to the distant barking of a dog. It felt like a normal Tuesday, he thought, unaware that this day would change everything.
School started two weeks ago, and to be honest, he's already tired of the announcements of upcoming exams. He wishes he were back on summer vacation where he didn't have to worry about such things.
He sat up, on the edge of the bed and stroked his messy black hair. Sleep was a luxury he couldn't afford—not today. His sister had to go to school, and he had promised to drop her off on time this time. He already messed up the other day.
The sun shone on his freckled face, which was much more noticeable in the warmer weather. He needs to start pulling down the blinds before going to bed. He stood up and stretched his body—still aches from yesterday's ICE Hockey practice.
The young boy wandered toward his sister’s room, the door left slightly ajar, a reminder that it was time to wake her up.
When he opened the door, he saw Angel sleeping, snuggled up in her blanket and stuffed animals. It was pleasantly warm in the room, you could hear the birds chirping.
Casey softly tapped his sister on the shoulder and squatted next to the bed. "Ángel, wake up" he whispers, his Spanish accent softening the words like a lullaby. He waited, but Angel didn’t move. Her breathing was even and calm. He tapped her again, this time harder. Still, nothing.
The room felt colder. Casey didn't have the strength for that. Casey's whisper became more urgent. "Ángel. Wake up!". Finally, she turns to him, her tired brown eyes staring at him. Obviously she didn’t went to bed at 8pm as he told her to. "What's wrong?" she said with a yawn.
He thought of asking her if she went to bed late again—but he left it at that. "We got school, get up, get dressed, then come eat, yeah?" he explained to her as he got up to open the window. She rolled her eyes at his statement before sitting up, clearly not interested for another school day.
Before hearing her complaints, he walked out of the room. Too exhausted to explain the basic rules of school to his younger sister, he keeps quiet. He doesn’t want to go either, but he chooses not to complain.
He enters the kitchen and grabs the cigarette packet. He has to smoke before the day begins—it’s already a routine for him. Opening the window, he is greeted by the crisp morning air. He took out a cigarette and lighter, lit it, and took a drag, already feeling his body grow lighter.
He sat down on the windowsill, the cold scratching at his bare arms. The morning air was sharp, almost cruel, and the thin fabric of his tank top and pajama pants offered little protection. He shivered slightly but remained still, letting the cold ground him.
Casey looked out, there was already a lot going on—people trying to catch their trains and shops are about to open. There is hardly any peace in New York, even in the morning. The cigarette burned between his fingers as he exhaled a thin puff of smoke into the fresh morning air.
For a moment, the contrast between the cold and the warmth of the smoke felt almost soothing. He thought about the past—something he hated, yet it kept coming back to him in quiet moments. He tried to push it away, but the memories remained. They never completely disappeared.
The boy ran his hand over his forehead and scratched it as a headache began to spread through him due to the weight of his own thoughts.
Casey finished his cigarette just before his sister steps a foot into the room. He knew she was aware of his habit, smoking several times a day—but he still preferred not to do it in her presence.
Angel, unaware of his thoughts, sits down and starts talking about something, which contrasts sharply with the heaviness Casey feels.
"Where is Papá?" the little girl asked.
Casey hesitated—not knowing exactly what to tell her. Or how to tell her. He knew where their father was, but he didn’t want her to know. Papá had promised to stop, again and again, but he’d failed every time.
Casey no longer believed his promises—he’d been let down too many times. The thought sent a chill down his spine, Goosebumps tingles on his arms. How could he tell her that their father was likely sleeping somewhere on a bank in New York?
He didn’t even know where exactly—didn’t know if Papá was okay.
Suddenly, his phone vibrates in his pocket, but Casey was too distracted to notice.
"He’s already at work," he said, rising from the windowsill. He avoided her gaze, focusing instead on the cracks in the wooden floor.
Angel didn’t ask any more questions. She believed him—she always did. Casey wished he could believe himself as much as she did. He tried to push the thought away. He was already thinking too much, and they hadn’t even left the apartment yet.
As Casey and Angel were finally ready to leave for school—food packed, clothes changed, shoes on—the sudden ring of his phone cuts through the calm morning quiet like a knife. His stomach tightened. Please, not him. Not now.
He pulled the phone from his pocket, dreading what he might see. If it was his dad, there was no way he could pick him up from some bar—not with Angel standing beside him.
April.
It was just April calling. Relief washed over him, and he exhaled—without realizing he had been holding his breath.
Casey hadn’t known April for long. They had met shortly before summer, in a way that wasn’t exactly ideal. He had been playing hockey in the school hallway, holding his hockey stick tightly in his hands as he practiced his shots. With one particularly hard swing, the puck sailed straight ahead—directly into April’s leg.
She screamed and dropped her books as she hit the floor.
“Oh shit, sorry man. Yu good?” Casey said—calm and collected, as if it wasn’t the first time he’d accidentally hit someone while playing.
She sat up, rubbing her shin, before looking at him with narrowed eyes. "wtf? What kind of idiot plays hockey in a hallway!"
"Eh, this kind?" he said, pointing to himself with an innocent smile. Somehow, that earned him a reluctant laugh, and from that moment on, she never let him forget it.
Now, seeing her name on his screen brought a faint smile to his face. Even though their first meeting hadn’t been perfect, he was glad they became friends. She often helped him deal with Angel. She’s a great friend.
He answered the call, but before he could even get a word out, her voice burst through the line—soft yet sharp enough to demand his attention.
"Casey? Why haven’t you been answering my messages?"
He hadn’t checked his phone yet—truth be told, he rarely used it at all. He was too focused on juggling the past and the present to even think about his messages. Reaching him has never been easy.
"Morning to you too. Wassup?" He held his phone firmly in his hand, on speaker. At the same time, he opened the front door of the small apartment, ready to leave.
"I've been trying to reach you, but you’re impossible to get ahold of," April said on the other end. He could practically see her rolling her eyes. She always worried far too quickly.
"You know, it wouldn’t kill you to reply once in a while. I thought something might’ve happened to you." she quickly added—April is aware that Casey isn’t a little child she has to look after, though she couldn’t help feeling more at ease knowing her friends were okay, even early in the day.
"Relax, I picked up, yeah? I ain’t dead. So what’s the real reason you blowin’ up my phone?" he quickly changed the volume of the phone and decided to hold it to his ear. Angel doesn't need to know everything. He remained calm, waiting for her to answer.
He calmly made his way down the stairs of the high-rise. They lived on the fourth floor of a six-story building. The flickering light and the stale, unpleasant smell were nothing new—they had gotten used to it by now.
Angel had already bolted ahead. Too tired to call her back, he let her go. How did she have so much energy this early? He asked himself that same question every single morning.
"The biology exam, how did it go?"
Shit. He’d completely forgotten about it. Scratching his head, he scrambled to come up with an excuse to dodge the question.
Irma, April’s girlfriend, had been tutoring him in biology for a while now. It started off well enough, but lately, he’d lost all motivation to keep studying at home. Who could focus on mitochondria when their bed and console were just a few steps away?
"Well, it went… well," he said, his voice wavering.
He was a terrible liar, and he knew it. In that moment, he wished he could slap himself.
"You’re a terrible liar, Case. Are you serious?" she said, her tone edged with annoyance. She knew Casey was skating dangerously close to failing, but he didn’t seem to care enough to do anything about it.
For a moment, the line was quiet except for the faint rustling on Casey’s end—probably him rummaging through his backpack for his headphones.
"Why you even callin’ me ‘bout this? We gonna see each other at school in a minute anyway" he said, his voice tinged with desperation. He wasn’t sure if it was because of April’s nagging or because he still couldn’t find his headphones. Probably the second.
"You forgot? Irma and I aren’t at school today. There’s a field trip for the whole class," she said, her voice light with amusement. He could almost picture her running a hand through her brown braids, barely suppressing a laugh at his cluelessness.
"What? You jokin’ right? What am I supposed to be doin’ all day then?" he said, his voice rising slightly.
Sure, he had other friends he could hang out with—but their interests couldn’t be more different from his. While they spent their time talking about women and their looks, he was more interested in the latest songs or deciding what to sketch next in his already-packed sketchbook.
"I don’t know, Case. You’ll figure something out." she said, the sound of her getting out of bed audible through the line. She sounded like she was in a good mood.
"Don’t forget—you have tutoring with Irma after school today," she added quickly, not missing a beat.
He exhaled, clearly not thrilled by the reminder. "Fine, but you better be pickin’ up Angel!" he said. If he had to suffer through tutoring, the least April could do was take some of the weight off his shoulders.
"Deal. Now go. I’ll see you later!" Before Casey could get another word in, the call ended.
Casey slipped his phone into his pocket and continued walking after Angel. Thoughts of April and Irma crept into his mind, leaving him with a mix of gratitude for their help and guilt for taking it for granted.
He was grateful for everything—their help with school, their support with Angel, and all the little things in between. Yet, his heart ached with the weight of knowing he couldn’t manage it all on his own. Shame crept up his spine, he should be able to handle that on his own.
Pathetic, he thought, clenching his hands into fists before shoving them deep into his pockets. His eyes narrowed, locking onto a single spot as he tried to pull himself together.
Before he could sink back into his thoughts, Angel darted back to him and pulled at his jacket.
"Why are you so slow? Come on!" she exclaimed, her voice cheerful as she bounced on her feet, a big smile lighting up her face.
He glanced at her and noticed the school gates just ahead. He laughed softly, "I’m coming, I’m coming," as he took her hand.
As they walked together, the warm morning air enveloped them, carrying the faint scent of blooming flowers and freshly cut grass.
Sunlight filtered through the trees lining the sidewalk, casting dappled shadows on the pavement. The distant hum of cars and the cheerful chirping of birds blended seamlessly into the lively rhythm of the morning, perfectly mirroring Angel’s boundless energy.
"Ángel, after escuela, April will pick you up," he told his sister as they reached the school gates. He knew how much the Jones siblings’ school walk meant to her, but April had stepped in for him many times before.
Angel’s expression shifted rapidly, cycling through confusion, sadness, and finally understanding. "Tutoría?" she asked, her New York accent adding a slight lilt to the word.
He nodded and knelt to her level. "Sí, but I promise you, mañana I’ll pick you up again." he said gently, tucking a strand of Angel’s blonde hair behind her ear as he spoke.
"Promesa de meñique?" she asked, her puppy eyes—the same eyes she had inherited from their mother—looking up at him. They were the same eyes he saw in his own reflection, and yet, he couldn’t look away.
"Promesa de meñique." he promised, holding up his pinky finger and waiting for Angel to link hers with his.
And she did. Promises carried a weight between them—rarely given, because to make too many would only dilute their power.
Casey wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. One hand gently cradled the back of her head, as if she might vanish at any moment.
"Your Spanish has gotten better," he murmured with a smile. It made him happy to share even a few words in Spanish with her, a small connection that felt meaningful despite its simplicity.
"I’ve got the best tutor!" Angel proclaimed proudly, her face lighting up with a bright smile. Of course, it was Casey who had been teaching her all along.
They held the hug for a few more seconds before Casey loosened his arms and let go. A sudden reminder hit him—he still had to get to school himself, even if he didn’t like going.
"Yeah, yeah, go on in. Class starts soon," he said, giving her a small nudge toward the school gates.
He stood up and slipped his hands back into his pockets, ready to light his second cigarette of the day. Casey watched as his sister ran toward the school doors, where a teacher stood waiting.
Along the way, Angel kept glancing back to make sure he was still there. He was. He’d never leave her behind.
When she waved to him, he waved back, a faint smile tugging at his lips. Despite everything, he was glad to have his annoying little sister. Luckily, he hadn’t lost her that night too.
He closed his eyes briefly, pushing the dark thought aside. Now wasn’t the time to dwell on it. Taking a deep breath, he opened his eyes, reached into his pocket, and pulled out his headphones and cigarettes.
Slipping the earbuds in, he lit his cigarette and began walking toward his own school, the music drowning out the lingering shadows in his mind.
Notes:
Updates are irregular since i have a lot to do but I try my best
Chapter 2: Echoes in Silence
Summary:
Casey is trying to get through a boring school day, but memories won't leave his mind. As silence surrounds him, voices of the past won’t let him forget—and something unexpected is about to break through.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The sun poured through the window, filling the room with golden light. Barely a cloud in sight. It was a warm summer day, and Casey was starting to regret wearing his gray zip-up jacket over the white concert shirt he'd received as a gift a couple of months ago.
Casey sat in the fourth row by the window, his head propped on one hand to hide the earbud playing music. It was his third period—English, but he had no desire to participate in class today.
Gaze remained fixed on his desk as his pencil moved across the paper, sketching something that seemed far more interesting than whatever was on the board.
His eyes flicked up for a moment, scanning the room. The teacher sat at his desk, probably grading tests from other classes, while his classmates worked quietly on their assignments.
Casey's gaze shifted to the clock hanging above the door. fifteen minutes left.
He rolled his eyes, annoyed at how slowly the day was dragging on. Tilting his head, his gaze dropped to the sheet of assignments in front of him.
He tried to understand the task he has been given, at least a little bit. But when you're already struggling with the language, it’s never that easy.
Of course, he understood some English, but whatever this was felt like a completely different level for him—personally overwhelming.
He pushed the paper aside, deciding he might ask Irma or April for help later. For now though, he focused on his sketch.
The worn pencil, borrowed long ago from his seatmate, hovered over the sketch, held loosely in his left hand.
In his right ear, LVL by A$AP Rocky played softly. The sun left a warm glow over the dark sketch.
Long blonde hair, kind brown eyes, and freckles scattered like tiny stars across her face—a perfect smile that could light up any room. His mother.
He often found himself drawing her—without fully realising what was forming on the paper.
The pencil seemed to guide itself, sketching shapes both familiar and somehow distant.
When his hand reached her eyes, a sudden wave of images swept through him—fragments of a smile, soft whispers, a warmth he could almost touch. He wanted to feel it again. To see and hear her one last time.
The pencil dropped, his breath caught. For a moment, the world around him blurred as memories blurred the line between past and present.
He blinked his teary eyes, caught his breath again, didn’t quite understand why those eyes seemed to hold so much more than just a face.
The boy lifted the pencil with a shaking hand, quickly and hastily scribbling over the spot where the brown eyes were supposed to be.
He was lost in his thoughts, trying to steady himself. Had his clothes always felt this tight? His grip on the pencil tightened as if he could outrun what was chasing him.
The scream that haunted his dreams found him again. It was his fault. He was right.
He pressed harder on the pencil until it suddenly snapped. His hand stilled, his breath slowly falling back into its usual rhythm. His eyes remained locked on the drawing.
Casey doesn't understand why this kept happening. It felt like he was being hunted, trapped in an endless chase with no way out, no escape.
His head throbbed, and he felt an overwhelming need to gulp down a large glass of water. He wanted to take off his jacket, maybe even take a cold shower to calm himself down.
His mind didn't stopped—covered with unanswered questions, endlessly. No matter how much he wanted to stop, it felt impossible to break free.
His phone suddenly vibrated, chiming softly to signal a new message. The music had long since ended, entirely forgotten.
Eyes tore away from the drawing and shifted to the teacher, who was now watching him closely. His brown eyes, still marked with dried tears, drifted down to his phone.
A message.
When had he received it?
He picked up his phone slowly, almost as if expecting it to provoke some strange reaction as well.
Irma. Of course, it was Irma. He let out a breath, rolling his eyes with a mix of annoyance and amusement. Out of all people, it had to be her. What could she possibly want now?
He unlocked his iPhone 8 and tapped on their chat.
"I forgot to tell you, a friend of mine, same grade as you, will be joining our tutoring session today."
Staring at the message, A sigh escaped him. Of course, Irma wouldn’t ask, just tell. Classic.
"Don’t be late again. This time, I’m not waiting!" she added at the end of her message, like a threat.
As if he, Casey Alejandro Jones, would ever be afraid of her.
His tumb hovered over the keyboard, debating what to reply. Finally, he typed:
"ight, chill. I’ll pull up on time. tell ya friend not to act up."
He hit send, leaning back in his chair as if the message was the final word on the matter.
Casey scrolled through his chats, checking if he’d forgotten to reply to any messages that, in the end, didn’t really matter.
But the message he was looking at was different. A short, direct message from an unsaved number caught his eye and was hard to ignore:
"Got a drop at 8, bring the packs."
He'd almost forgotten he had to take care of it tonight. A mixture of familiar tension and resignation spread through his chest. It wasn't the first time, and it wouldn't be the last.
He casually typed back:
"Ok, got it."
But behind the calm facade, his mind raced—questions, worries, and the heavy burden of responsibility weighed on him as always. This life wasn't easy, but it was the only one he knew.
He has to do it—for his sister. Besides, it's not as bad as everyone says. Casey might even say he enjoys the job. Except when things don't go as planned.
He switches off his phone and slips it into his pocket, glancing around the classroom for the second time.
Before he could decide whether to focus on the lesson or overthink the strange feeling from earlier, the bell rang for break—everyone rushing to escape the classroom as fast as possible.
And so did he. Casey threw everything into his black backpack, ripped out the page with the sketch of his mother, crumpled it up, and shoved his sketchbook inside.
As he walked out, he tossed the ruined sketch into the trash and decided to leave whatever happened in class behind him. It isn't that serious anyway.
The day dragged on, even more boring than Casey had hoped. One class after another—English, math, biology, PE. And now, just when he thought he could take a break, tutoring.
The classes felt long, like you're running a 100-meter marathon, that somehow never ends. One subject led into the next without much to hold his attention.
His mind wandered from the class, caught somewhere between boredom and the weight of everything else on his shoulders.
Casey kept looking at his watch, waiting for something, anything—to break the voltaic state of boredom. But nothing happened.
And now, here he was.
The school halls were covered in shouts, footsteps, and laughter echoing all around. Neon lights flickered above him—highlighting the worn lockers and scuffed floor.
Air was stuffy and students crowded, as they hurried to leave the building, desperate not to miss out a warm day outside.
He’d much rather be at practice, skating hard on ice, free to skate as fast and as smoothly as he wanted. The ice was where he could prove how good he really was, where nothing else mattered but the game.
But that would have to wait until tomorrow. Today, he had to be on time for tutoring—though, of course, that didn’t stop him from exchanging quick handshakes with his friends as they passed each other in the hallway. A nod here, a fist bump there, keeping up the impression, even as he made his way to the library.
Headphones clung to Casey’s ears like a second skin, hands buried in his pockets—hidden without purpose. His steps were quick, eyes fixed on the ground, avoiding the chaos around him.
He kept walking, wishing he could escape through the nearest exit hisself. His mind was crowded—Angel, school, work, his mother.
He decided to push aside the event that had just happened, though, it refusing to leave his thoughts.
Steps quickened as he shut out the world around him, ignoring everything—including the sound of his name being called by a teammate. Lost in his thoughts, he didn't even notice when he ran straight into someone.
Notes:
chapter 3 really soon!