Julian had never wanted to be the villain in anyone's story. But as he stood in front of Penelope's house with a flash drive in his jacket pocket and guilt chewing holes in his chest, he realized something:
Heroes and villains are often just people with bad timing and worse decisions.
He wasn't here to hurt her.
He was here to tell the truth.
The full, ugly truth.
About Scott.
About himself.
About the lie sitting at the heart of all their stories.
But his knuckles hovered in the air, refusing to knock.
What if she didn't open the door?
What if she did?
Before he could decide, the door opened anyway.
Not by Penelope.
By her mother.
"Julian," she said, eyes narrowing.
He cleared his throat. "Is Penelope home?"
Her mother hesitated. "She's… not here. She's staying with a friend tonight."
That hit harder than expected. Penelope wasn't just hiding — she was disappearing.
"She okay?" he asked, voice softer than he meant.
Her mother studied him for a long moment. Then she said something strange.
"She used to draw sunflowers, you know."
Julian blinked. "What?"
"Back when she was little. After her dad died, she wouldn't talk. Wouldn't eat. Just sat by the window and drew sunflowers every day like they were the only thing keeping her anchored."
Julian felt the weight of that. The gravity of a memory he hadn't earned.
"She's always looked for light in the dark," her mom added. "But boys like you? You don't bring light. You bring smoke."
She closed the door.
Not slammed.
Just… closed.
Quietly.
And Julian stood there with the flash drive still in his pocket, unsure if he'd just lost the war and the girl.
---
Across town, Penelope was sitting in Milo's beat-up car eating fries from a shared paper bag.
They were parked under the stars, not because it was romantic — Milo insisted — but because "existential food tastes better beneath cosmic indifference."
Penelope snorted when he said that.
He smiled without looking at her. "There it is."
"What?"
"The laugh. Been trying to find it for days."
She rolled her eyes. "You're such a weirdo."
"Thank you," he said, solemnly, like she'd knighted him.
They sat in silence again. But this time, it wasn't heavy.
Then Penelope asked, "Do you ever wonder if… we're the bad guy in someone else's story?"
"All the time," Milo replied.
She stared out the windshield. "I think I've been trying to save people who never asked to be saved."
"No," Milo said. "You've been trying to understand people. That's different."
She turned to him. "But what if understanding them hurts you?"
"Then maybe it's not your job to understand them anymore."
Penelope didn't reply.
She just stared at the fries in her lap, wondering when love became so complicated.
---
Meanwhile, Scott was at home deleting old files from his laptop.
Memories. Emails. Letters.
Stuff no one had seen but him.
He had a plan. One that required clean hands and fewer ghosts.
But just as he finished clearing his desktop, his phone buzzed.
Unknown Number.
He hesitated.
Answered.
The voice on the other end was sharp and amused.
"Scotty-boy. Still pretending to be the broken boy next door?"
Scott's stomach dropped. "How did you get this number?"
"Relax," the voice said. "I'm not here to ruin you."
"Then why call?"
"Because I heard about your little Penelope problem. Thought I'd offer a solution."
Scott stood slowly.
This was not happening.
Not him.
"You stay away from her," Scott warned.
But the voice just laughed. "Come on. I'm family. And you know what we do to people who lie to the ones they love."
Then the line went dead.
Scott stared at the phone, his pulse like war drums in his chest.
He wasn't just dealing with Julian anymore.
His past was back.
And it had teeth.