Luke woke to warmth.
Not the harsh, biting kind that scraped against his skin like the real world's cold mornings, but a gentle, golden warmth that wrapped around him like it knew him. Like it had been waiting.
For a moment, he did not move. He just lay there, staring at the ceiling, listening.There were sounds. Soft footsteps. The faint clink of utensils. The quiet hum of something baking. And then...
"Luke, breakfast is almost ready!"
His breath caught.
That voice.
It wasn't distant. It wasn't a memory echoing in the hollow corners of his mind. It was alive. Clear. Warm. Real. He sat up too quickly, his chest tightening as if something inside him had snapped into place. His heart began to race–not with fear, but something far more fragile.
Hope.
He swung his legs off the bed. The floor was warm beneath his feet. Familiar. Everything was familiar, in a way that did not feel forced or strange. It felt… right. Like this was where he was always meant to be.The scent hit him halfway down the hallway.
Banana bread.
Fresh. Sweet. Comforting.
His chest tightened again, but this time it hurt. Because he did not remember why it hurt. He stepped into the kitchen. And there she was.
His mother stood by the counter, her back turned as she carefully sliced a loaf of golden-brown banana bread. Sunlight poured in through the window, catching in her hair, wrapping her in a soft glow that made her seem almost untouchable.For a second, Luke just stood there.
He did not speak.
He did not even breathe.
He was afraid that if he did, she would disappear.
'dissappear..?'
"Luke?" she said, glancing over her shoulder with a small smile. "You are going to make it cold just standing there." The wall broke.
"Mom…" His voice came out quieter than he intended, almost fragile.
She raised an eyebrow, amused.
"What? Did you hit your head again?"
He let out a small, awkward laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "No… I just… yeah, I'm coming."
At the table, Jake and Matt were already seated. Matt was scrolling through something on his phone, barely looking up.
"You're late. Again."
Jake leaned back in his chair, watching Luke in a way that felt… off. Too focused. Too sharp. Luke ignored it for a moment, sliding into his seat. The way Jake looked at him felt a bit too familiar...His mother placed a slice of banana bread in front of him, still warm, a small pat of butter melting into its surface.
"Eat," she said softly.
He picked it up slowly. The first bite, it broke something in him. He could not figure out what. The taste flooded his senses. Sweet, soft, perfect. It felt like something he had been missing for so long that his body did not even recognize it anymore. Which was weird considering he ate this bread every Saturday morning.
His eyes stung.
"Hey," Matt said, frowning. "Why do you look like you're about to cry over bread?"
Luke blinked, quickly shaking his head. "I'm not. Shut up douche."
But he couldn't stop eating. Each bite felt like reclaiming something he had lost… even if he didn't know what it was. Jake was still staring at him. And then–
"Why are you here?"
Luke froze.
The words were quiet. Too quiet.
"What?" Luke looked up.
Jake's eyes were different. Clear. Aware. Sharp in a way that did not belong in this warm, soft world.
"You don't belong here," Jake said, his voice low. The room suddenly felt… wrong. For just a second, again. Like something had slipped, again. Luke frowned, a strange unease creeping up his spine, again...
"What are you talking about?"
Jake leaned forward slightly.
"What were you doing before this?"
'Before… this?'
Luke opened his mouth, nothing came out.
His mind… stuttered.
Before this, he was–
He was…
"…I was sleeping dumbass."
Luke said finally, but the words didn't feel solid. 'I have always been here, have I not?'
Jake's gaze did not waver.
"No," he said. "That is not–"
"Jake," their mother interrupted gently, placing another slice on his plate. "Stop teasing your brother."
Jake blinked.
And just like that–
The sharpness vanished.
He leaned back again, scratching his head and rolling his eyes in the same defiant way Luke was used to.
"Yeah, whatever. You are just too slow in the mornings."
Matt snorted.
The moment was gone, but Luke's heart was still racing. Something felt… off. He looked down at his hands. They were steady, too steady. The unease lingered, curling quietly in the back of his mind.
***
The day passed like a dream you don't question. Laughter came easily, Conversations flowed. They moved through routines that felt deeply ingrained, like they had done this a thousand times before.
And yet—
Luke kept catching moments.
Small ones.
Slips.
He'd forget what he was about to say mid-sentence.
He'd walk into a room and feel like he had already been there… moments ago. He'd look at his mother and feel an overwhelming wave of love… followed by a hollow, aching confusion. Why does this feel like I'm going to lose it? But every time the thought came,
something softened it.
Blurred it.
Pushed it away.
That night, he sat on the edge of his bed. The room was quiet, just like it always was. His thoughts felt heavier here. Clearer.
"This doesn't make sense…" he whispered.
His chest tightened again.
"What am I missing?"
Fragments flickered in his mind. Darkness, pain, loneliness. A version of himself that felt… empty.
"This isn't…" He frowned, gripping his head. "I don't..."
A knock at the door.
"Luke?" his mother's voice.
The tension snapped instantly.
"Yeah," he said, his voice smoothing out without effort.
She stepped in, smiling softly. "You've been quiet today. Everything okay?"
He looked at her.
And just like that, everything else faded. The confusion, the cracks, the unease, the background noise. It all slipped through his fingers like it had never been there.
"Yeah," he said, smiling back. "I'm okay."
She nodded, satisfied, and gently ruffled his hair before leaving.
The door closed.
Luke lay back on his bed.
His mind… quiet.
Peaceful.
Complete.
This is right.
This is how it's supposed to be.
The doubts never returned.
The questions dissolved into nothing.
And as sleep took him again, he smiled.