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Lukas has no friends.
He spawns into the world and stares in awe at the hills and grass stretching endlessly in every direction. Everything is bright, untouched, and impossibly new. He turns in a slow circle, searching for anyone else.
He finds no one.
He is alone.
He survives his first night.
Lukas likes his friends
He's a little more experienced now, less green than the boy who woke up alone in the middle of nowhere. After wandering for days, he found a quiet little town—a town he now calls home.
He meets another boy after the boy catches him sketching his ideas of towers stretching into the heavens, of bridges grand and sturdy, of colors spilling into impossible shapes.
The boy shoves him around a lot. But that's okay, he thinks. That's what friends do. Friends joke, friends tease, friends roughhouse.
Friends can be mean sometimes… right?
Eventually, he meets two others. One boy, one girl. Together, they call themselves the Ocelots.
They're a little mean.
But he likes them.
Lukas isn't sure where his friends are.
He sits on the dirty ground, terror tightening his throat and stealing his voice. He stares into the fire, wondering if his friends escaped, if they are safe, if they think about him. His silent questions go unanswered.
Cookies are offered. None are for him. No friends here.
But then an olive branch—a gentle hand placing a cookie in his own. He tries to give it back. He fails. He accepts.
An argument breaks out. Sharp words are said. Tempers are high.
He tries to leave, but the boy who gave him the cookie is firm. He is not leaving the dirty shelter tonight.
He is starving.
He wonders whether his friends are out there or in here.
Lukas is pushed by his "friend."
He tumbles through the clouds, the world whipping past him as terror floods him. There is no ground or water in sight. He keeps falling and falling and falling.
He closes his eyes and waits for the end.
Pain blooms in his shoulder as he slams into water. His arm breaks on impact. He drags himself out, coughing, shaking, trying not to cry as he leans against a tree.
Two splashes follow.
The boy who gave him a cookie shouts his name in relief, joy bright and unmistakable. It warms him even as his arm throbs. Gentle hands fuss over him as he tries to smile through the pain.
They build upwards again, climbing back towards the sky, and he remembers an idea from so long ago.
Towers stretching into the heavens.
He closes his eyes and sits back.
The boy he met so long ago is no longer his friend. A friend doesn't push you toward death.
Lukas reunites with his—
Lukas is kicked out by his—
Lukas has—
Lukas—
…
Lukas has so many friends now.
He waves to them as he walks through the city alive with color and sound. Towers of all kinds stretch towards the heavens, bridges arch grand yet sturdy, colors spilling and bleding into a breathtaking canvas across streets and rooftops.
It is everything he once dreamed of and more.
"Lukas! It's good to see you!"
He turns to the hero—no longer a boy—who once pressed a cookie into his hand, who is waving frantically, his wide-eyed intern hovering behind him.
His heart is full.
"Hey, Jesse."
Lukas loves his friends.