Chapter 2 - Fragile Peace

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Ethan

“Ethan, what are you doing?”

Ethan raised his weary eyes, shaking off the exhaustion as he turned. “Bill.”

He spoke the old man’s name softly as Bill maneuvered his wheelchair closer, a small smirk playing on his lips. The pattering of rain echoed along the sidewalks, a steady rhythm that matched their breath. Both men turned their gaze forward. Ethan leaned against the cold wall, his breath visible in the chill night air. The looming skyscrapers and apartments cast heavy shadows over them and the rest of the city.

Bill coughed into his fist, drawing Ethan’s attention back to him. “Hey, Ethan,” Bill spoke, his voice rough. “What are you doing out here?”

Ethan shrugged. “Just needed some time alone, I guess. The party’s almost over, and I can leave now.”

Bill shrugged in return, his green military coat hanging tight along his frame. His eyes hovered toward Ethan’s, noting how the youth’s own coat was too big, each adorned with medals.

Bill sighed. “So, how was it?” He cocked his head toward the medal on Ethan’s left breast, a smile playing on his lips. “You like the medal?”

Ethan shrugged again, prompting Bill to chuckle. “I’ve been telling them to give you your own medal for years, you know. You deserve it after what we had to do back then.”

Ethan winced, shaking his head slowly as those words brought back more than he expected. “Back then,” he repeated. “I don’t need a medal for what happened back then.”

“Sure, but you did your service, and you should have something you can…” Bill’s words trailed off, and he sighed, leaning his wheelchair against the wall beside Ethan. “I’m sorry, Ethan,” he spoke slowly, causing Ethan to turn back toward the old veteran. “A shoddy old medal won’t do you any good. Hell, look at me!”

The old man erupted into laughter, his left hand casting along his own breast, where the shimmer of gold medals refracted the thunder that brightened the skies. But after a second, his laughter lagged, eyes narrowing as he turned toward his legs, or rather, the nubs that remained of them.

Maybe it was the sadness in his eyes, seeing an old comrade that brought Ethan back. The boy shrugged slowly. “If they really wanted to thank me and my family, they could keep the medals and actually give us some money.”

“Ain’t that the truth.” The grizzled war veteran replied.

Ethan smirked, nodding as he reached into his pocket. His fingers grazed along a tin carton as he popped the lid, pulling out a cigarette. He placed it between his lips, his hands shaking slightly as he fumbled for his lighter. The flame sparked, casting brief, flickering light on their faces before he lit the cigarette and took a deep drag.

Bill watched him, his eyes softening with an unspoken understanding. The rain continued to fall around them, a relentless reminder of the cold and the past they shared. Ethan exhaled a plume of smoke, his eyes distant, lost in memories that the rain could never wash away.

"Ethan, what are you doing?" Bill snapped, his hand outstretched to swipe the cigarette away. Ethan took a step to the side, the old war veteran letting out a frustrated breath through his nose like an aggravated bull. "You're smoking again."

Bill's words were laced with a dangerous gleam in his eyes. However, Ethan merely shrugged his shoulders, sparking the lighter and taking a deep drag of the killing smoke, exhaling it from his lips in defiance.

He puffed a couple more times before turning back toward Bill. The old man still stared daggers at him, shaking his head with an aggravated sigh. "Listen, Bill," Ethan began, meeting Bill's gaze. "The smokes and stuff. They help me forget and deal with the stress of..."

Bill's eyes softened briefly before he snapped his head. "Yeah, I can imagine," he conceded, but quickly added, "That still doesn’t excuse it. You can't use smoking or drinking to escape what happened to you. Trust me, those things shouldn't be what determines your happiness in life."

Ethan sneered. "Yeah, well, they help enough. I just need something to give me a bit of a pep to my step."

Bill only stared in disapproval. His thoughts riddled with concern for Ethan. He'd heard stories of veterans from previous wars who had to endure what Ethan went through. The trauma, the nightmares, and God knows what else Ethan silently dealt with. While those old veterans had to go through hell when they were eighteen or older, Ethan was merely a child when his whole world was thrown on its head. There was no other option, and nothing they could do. Bill understood, but he wouldn't act like Ethan wasn't hurting himself.

"Have you tried to talk to your therapist about it?"

Ethan took another puff, releasing a plume of heavy smoke from his lips. "No," he replied curtly. "I don’t need to talk to a shrink."

"A shrink?" Bill echoed. "Come on, Ethan. Sometimes having someone to talk to about what happened can do you some good. It can help put things into perspective that weren’t there before. It worked wonders for me. Maybe it can help you get some peace in your life."

Ethan looked at him for a moment, a glimmer of hope shining in his eyes. For a second, Bill thought Ethan might grasp it. However, the boy shook his head, and Bill sighed deeply.

"How about your mother?" Bill ventured carefully.

A blast of anger surged through Ethan's frame. His eyes widened as his fingers wrapped into fists, his head snapping back toward the veteran. The cigarette was crushed within his fist, almost like he didn’t feel the searing pain of the burn.

"You know how she’s doing," Ethan growled.

Bill knew not to press further, recognizing the volatility of Ethan's mood. He decided to steer the conversation elsewhere. "What about your sister?" he asked, his voice softer.

“Joy, she’s been fine,” Ethan said, though there was a melancholy that lingered in his movements. His eyes met Bill’s, the old man’s presence grounding him. “Do you really think taking her out of public school was a good thing?”

Bill sighed, running a hand over his balding head as he looked at Ethan. The young man turned fully towards him, no longer distracted by his prior emotions and the cigarette. “She had a lot of friends in that public school, Bill,” Ethan continued. “She was doing really well in her classes and was genuinely happy to go to school. She knows it wasn’t Mom who authorized her transfer, and I think she...”

“Ethan,” Bill interrupted, halting the boy’s train of thought. “You and I both know how important it is for your sister to be in that school. Whether she’s happy or sad, she’s safe, and that’s all that matters.”

Ethan shook his head. “That’s not the point, Bill. What if you’re just wrong and nothing is going to happen?”

Bill sneered. “You know damn well what the Martians are capable of. They get more treacherous and damning every year.”

“It’s been years since the fall of Anchorage. Before that, they only hovered within our atmosphere, and after their defeat, they’ve loitered even farther around our orbit. There won’t be another Anchorage.”

“Ethan, don’t be a fool,” Bill snapped.

Ethan’s hands rolled into fists, his eyes wide and red as he glared at the old man. “My sister isn’t happy in that fucking school. She’s failing out, she has no friends, and she’s been lying to Mom about being sick. You know how Mom isn’t well; she’ll do whatever she believes is going to keep Joy safe,” Ethan spoke the last words in a tired breath, his hand going to his face as he glared at Bill. “You and I are getting sucked dry by those payments for that damn Catholic school. What’s the point?”

“You know why,” Bill said, crossing his arms. “Ethan, those public institutions and buildings are not funded well for the shelter program. Those buildings are geared to preserve, but they cannot and definitely will not survive. At least your sister has a chance to get into a secure shelter that she can actually survive in.”

Ethan shook his head. “You’re taking a guess. Those bastards that make the shelters don’t allow anyone into their constructs. How do you know they’re not lying to us about how good they are? Remember, Joy’s shelter is probably the bare minimum. Compare it to the academy that…”

“You’re lucky you got the scholarship for the academy, but Ethan, you have to start paying your sponsorship. God forbid something happens and they won’t let you in.”

Ethan just shrugged his shoulders, and that pissed Bill off the most. If the Martians ever dropped some sort of bomb or weapon that could wipe out the city, Ethan just shrugged his shoulders like it didn’t even matter if he died.

Yet, sadness traveled over Bill’s eyes. No wonder he probably didn’t care about living or dying... from the hell they had to escape from. In that award ceremony, they were the only survivors.

“Ethan,” Bill began, his voice softening. “You can’t just give up. Your sister needs you. Your mom needs you. Hell, I need you. We’ve been through too much to just throw it all away.”

Ethan’s gaze dropped to the ground, the weight of Bill’s words settling over him like a heavy blanket. The rain continued to pour, washing away the tension but leaving a cold, raw truth in its wake.

“I know,” Ethan finally whispered, his voice barely audible over the rain. “I just... I don’t know how to keep going sometimes.”

Bill nodded, wheeling closer to Ethan and placing a hand on his arm. “One step at a time, kid. One step at a time.”

When the Martians invaded, when hope was all but lost... it was the Thirty-Third Alaskan Militia that stood their ground and helped repel the attack. Without them, humanity might have faced utter defeat. Out of the thirty soldiers who fought and died, only two remained.

“I told you before, I’m willing to pay for it all,” Bill said, his voice firm.

Ethan shook his head. “You know damn well I’m not going to ask for that,” he sighed. “The Academy looks good on my transcript for college, but they’re already sucking me dry with fees and loans. You’d probably only manage one payment before filing for bankruptcy.”

“True,” Bill replied, his eyes narrowing with a glint of humor. “Wait, are you calling me broke?”

Ethan chuckled, but their laughter was cut short by the sound of tires whirring to a stop. A bright yellow taxi pulled up in front of them. Ethan helped Bill down the stairs, his movements careful and deliberate.

“You sure you’ll be alright walking home?” Bill asked, concern etched on his weathered face. “There’s enough room for you.”

Ethan smiled and nodded. “Today’s been a long day, and being around this place just makes me remember things I’d rather forget,” he said, turning to embrace the old man. “Thanks anyway, Bill. For everything.”

He collapsed the wheelchair and helped Bill into the taxi, but as he tried to close the door, Bill’s hand shot out to stop him.

“What about robbers or murderers?” Bill’s voice trembled slightly.

Ethan only smiled. “I’ve been through worse.” With those parting words, he waved goodbye. His hand was the last thing Bill saw before the heavy fog swallowed him.

Bill sighed as he watched the boy disappear into the mist-shrouded streets. The taxi driver glanced back at him, concern in his eyes.

“Will the kid be fine?” the driver asked. “It’s pretty late, and even as a man, I wouldn’t walk out there at this hour.”

Bill mustered a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “That boy’s been through a lot. A walk in the night won’t be the thing that kills him.”

As the taxi pulled away, Bill’s mind wandered back to the days of the Martian invasion, to the battles fought and the friends lost. Ethan had faced horrors that would break most men, and yet here he was, still standing, still fighting in his own way. The fog thickened, wrapping the city in a ghostly shroud, but Bill knew Ethan would find his way. He always did.

Ethan (Continuous)

The city of Eyshore was a sprawling metropolis, a testament to early 20th-century industrial ambition. Construction had begun in the 1920s, spurred by the region’s wealth in coal, iron, and other natural resources. Nestled on the border between New York and Pennsylvania, Eyshore was a behemoth. Its skyline was punctuated by rows of skyscrapers that seemed to touch the clouds, complemented by a labyrinth of apartment complexes and rings of bustling shops. It was a thriving urban expanse, a melting pot of people from all corners of the globe, each seeking to carve out their own niche, whether through homes or businesses.

However, for Ethan, the grandeur of the city was nothing more than a backdrop. He navigated through the crowd, his eyes fixed ahead, the lingering tension from the award ceremony still weighing heavily on him. His legs felt stiff and strange after standing for so long, his voice hoarse from the interminable speech, and his stomach growled, protesting the hours without food. All he wanted was to get home and forget the day.

But forgetting was easier said than done. The tension in the air was palpable, mirrored in the movements of the crowd around him. The city seemed to hum with a collective unease.

The sudden sound of breaking glass jolted Ethan. Instinctively, he ducked and backed away, his eyes darting to the source of the noise. He watched as a group of people stormed into a store. Some passersby paused to watch, while others hurried along, unwilling to get involved. Moments later, the shrill wail of a siren pierced the air as the crowd of looters emerged. They didn’t carry money or luxury items but essentials—food, water, and medical supplies. Clutching their loot, they melted back into the crowd, leaving Ethan to sigh heavily. “Like clockwork,” he muttered to himself, casting a weary glance at the sky.

Above, almost hidden by the clouds, the Martian spaceships loomed like spectral presences. It was a bitter irony, he thought, that this was probably what the Martians were experiencing on their own planet, staring up at the United Coalition’s ships aimed back at them. With another sigh, Ethan turned away and continued his walk. This ritual of unease and tension was a yearly occurrence. He had survived a real invasion and knew the signs all too well.

Finally, Ethan reached his apartment building. He paused in front of it, taking a deep breath, trying to let the cool air calm the stress coursing through his body. He opened the door and took the elevator, stopping once again in front of his apartment door. Fishing out his keys, he let himself in, pushing the door open slowly. He peeked into the dark room, lit only by the muted glow of the TV and the pale light of the moon filtering through the window.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

He winced at the creak of the door as he eased inside, carefully taking off his shoes. His eyes swept over the messy kitchen in the corner, the dolls and toys scattered across the living room floor, and the walls, which seemed to close in around him as he moved deeper into the apartment.

Ethan breathed a sigh of relief as he surveyed the room. “Good,” he muttered under his breath. “Thank God she didn’t have another breakdown.”

However, his relief was short-lived. A soft, worn voice cut through the silence. “Ethan…”

He turned, spotting the faint glimmer of his mother’s eyes open. The voice was frail, feminine, but it carried an eerie weight of age and weariness. Ethan scratched his head, realizing sneaking around was no longer an option.

“Hey, Mom,” he greeted, walking over to her.

His mother sat in her large red armchair, a piece of furniture that always struck Ethan as oddly eerie. It seemed to dwarf her small frame, making her appear even more fragile. She wore thick clothes that masked her slender, almost anorexic appearance. Ethan knelt beside her, taking her bony, milky-white hand in his. He looked into her eyes, trying to find some semblance of recognition.

“Ethan, what are you talking about?” she said, her voice a brittle whisper, yet her smile stretched ear to ear. “I’m… your wife. Why are you saying these things?”

Her head snapped in various directions, her eyes locking onto different points as if seeking something only she could see. Ethan clutched her hand tighter. “Where is Junior?” she suddenly asked. “It’s really late outside. Did you forget to pick him up from basketball practice?”

Ethan shook his head slowly. “Mom, I stopped playing basketball years ago.”

Her grin shifted to a look of confusion, then to neutrality. “No,” she snapped. “Ethan plays basketball and baseball. He’s a good boy, he’s talented and smart.”

“Momma,” Ethan said, his voice trembling despite his efforts to swallow the emotion. “It’s me, it’s Junior.”

Then, he saw it. Her eyes seemed to clear for a moment, as if a fog had lifted. She brought her other hand to her head. “Sorry, Ethan,” she murmured. “I didn’t realize it.”

“It’s fine, Mom.”

She nodded slowly, her eyes distant. “You know my head’s not good. Sometimes I can just forget or get things really mixed up.”

Ethan nodded, his features frozen in a mask of resigned familiarity. “It’s fine, Mom. I know… trust me, I know.”

“That’s a relief,” she chuckled softly. “You’re a good boy, Ethan. You’re so kind… and you’re willing to still work with me and not get annoyed with helping me. Where is your father, Ethan?”

Ethan’s eyes widened, his features downcast as he shook his head. But his mother continued, undeterred by his silence. “You know, he’s meant to be back right now. His tour is…”

Her words trailed off into the silence of the room, leaving Ethan to grapple with the weight of the memories and the persistent ache in his chest.

“...his tour is over, and he was meant to be back by now. What you’re going to say next is how you want Dad to fully commit to that store idea he had.”

His mother’s eyes widened, and Ethan felt a spike of guilt course through him. He hated doing this, but the therapist said it might help break the delusion. Yet, he’d been doing it for years, and nothing had worked. The only reward was the sad, vacant look in his mother’s eyes.

“Yes…” she whispered.

Ethan combed his fingers through his hair. “Mom, Dad’s been dead...”

She just stared at him, lost in her own mind. “The Dirty 33rd?” he prompted gently. “You remember what me, Dad, and his war buddies did all those years ago… when the Martians touched Earth soil for the first time?”

Her eyes widened again, and she began to shake as if a cold wind had swept through the room. She wrapped her arms around herself, fingers digging into her sweater. Ethan noticed the frayed bits of fabric, evidence of her frequent anxious grip.

“I’m sorry, Ethan…” she murmured.

He knelt beside her, taking her hand and looking into her eyes. “It’s all right,” he said softly. “Let’s get you to bed, okay?”

She nodded with a weak smile. He carefully picked her up, carrying her to her room. As he laid her down, her eyes slowly closed. For a moment, he lingered, feeling the sting of tears and a surge of anger at the life he was forced to live. But there was something else…

His left hand shook, twitching like it was sapped with electricity. He grabbed it with his right hand, evening out his breathing as he sought calm. He knew if he let this go too far, it would lead to worse consequences. The meds sometimes helped, but the cigarettes worked better. He cracked his neck as he made his way out of his mother’s bedroom, closing the door behind him just as he heard another door creak open.

“Hi, Ethan.”

He turned, seeing his little sister standing there. “Hi, Joy,” he said. “You’re supposed to be in bed.”

He walked to the living room, sinking onto the couch. His fingers went to his face, trying to wipe away the strands of fatigue. Joy followed him and nestled beside him on the couch.

“Joy,” he murmured. “You gotta go to bed... Were you up the whole time?”

She didn’t answer, causing him to groan in annoyance. His eyes wandered around the room and settled on the table in front of him. “You guys ordered pizza.”

“Yep,” she said cheerfully. “Mama said I could.”

“Joy, I told you no ordering out. There was already food. I said to reheat that and that would be for dinner.”

She huffed. “Your casserole sucks, Ethan,” she spat. “I wanted pizza and Mama said I could order some.”

“Joy, you know Mom isn’t well. She’ll say yes to anything just to keep you home with her.”

Joy listened, her eyes flicking back and forth between Ethan and the TV. She took a deep breath and slouched deeper into the couch. Ethan cast a gaze at the pizza box. When in Rome, he supposed. He cracked open the box and fished out a cold slice of plain pizza, tasting the saltiness and tomato paste as he savored the bite with a smile after a long day. Maybe his sister had a point.

“It’s getting worse, Ethan.”

Ethan nodded along with his sister’s words. “I know, Joy, but don’t worry so much about things,” he said, turning towards her, now holding a smirk. “Your big brother will always protect you.”

She chuckled. “I know.”

“No, you don’t,” Ethan cut her off. “That was Dad’s final promise: protect you and Mom no matter what... and I guarantee you that I will honor it.”

He cocked his head towards the TV. The news blared with men and women scrambling not only in his country but throughout the entire world. Fear, hysteria, and crowd madness had sent the world into disarray. Lootings were rampant and riots had sparked. Ethan just sighed, his eyes drifting from the TV to the night sky, seeing the dark outline of the Martian ships.

“This happens every year, Joy,” Ethan spoke up. “The Coalition tries to haggle for Martian tech, and the Martians get angry. They start taking pot shots at each other, and then nothing happens. Just the damn Cold War all over again.”

Joy stared at her brother. “So, there really is nothing to fear?”

Ethan nodded. “This happens once a year. It’s annoying, and sure, we should take precautions. That’s why I put funds into the bunker protocol.”

“The bunker protocol,” Joy repeated, her face quickly growing sour. “It’s a waste of money, Ethan. And you don’t even put it into your school.”

“I don’t need it, but you do.”

Joy scoffed. “But you just said there was nothing to worry about. That we’re all going to be fine and that this just happens yearly.”

Ethan merely shrugged his shoulders, directing his gaze back to the TV. “Joy, I care about you. And it’s like I just told you, it was Dad’s final wish.”

She frowned, crossing her arms. “I miss him.”

Ethan sighed, feeling the familiar ache in his chest. “I know, Joy. I miss him too.”

Joy watched her older brother, sighing deeply. "Fine," she muttered, wrapping her arms around herself as her eyes fixated on the screen. Ethan dug into his pocket, popping open what appeared to be a carton of mints. However, there were no mints inside.

He took a cigarette to his lips, sparking a flame with his lighter as he inhaled, letting the killing smoke slowly drain the tension from his body. "God, you're gross, Ethan," his sister said, causing him to chuckle a bit. "You know those things aren’t good for you..."

Ethan turned back to his sister. "They're better than the meds."

"Your therapist would give you better ones if you actually talked to her."

Ethan waved it off. "I don’t like shrinks," he replied. "Trust me, they’re pretty shitty. They want you to talk, but you don’t want to talk…because the reason you're already there is because of how fucked up of an experience you’re dealing with. The therapist wouldn’t understand either way..."

Joy shook her head. "You're such an idiot, Ethan. You just don’t like getting help."

"You know that I don’t want to be a burden on others, Joy."

"And that’s your issue, Ethan. You don’t realize that you aren’t a burden," she sighed, her hands going to her forehead. "Why can’t you just get help?"

Ethan stood up with a smirk, spotting a vein of anger pulsing on his sister's forehead at his fake happiness. "Hey, I could be a drug addict."

"That’s still not a good thing..."

Her voice stopped. Her eyes widened as they fixated on Ethan. "What..."

Ethan turned to his left hand, watching it shake. He sighed, gripping it tightly like he had earlier, waiting for the ghost limb to stop.

"Ethan, that’s not okay."

Ethan merely stared. "I know."

She sighed. "Fine, I will go to school more," but a sliver of a smile darted along her lips. "But if something does come up…and my show or something pops up..."

"You’ll still go to school."

She chuckled as she got up from the couch, walking over and wrapping her arms around her older brother, pulling him into a hug. "I’m gonna go to bed now, Ethan," she said, letting go and walking back to her room. "I love you, Ethan. Have a good night."

"Have a good night," he echoed.

He heard her door click shut, sighing as he found his place on the couch once again, lying down on the cushions. He took in his smoke as he clicked off the TV. His eyes drifted to all corners of the room as he tried to wipe the fatigue from his eyes, but the yawn only made him more tired.

His eyes lingered as he felt sleep and exhaustion slowly plague him, staring out the window at the darkened sky. A slight tinge of anxiety spiked in his mind as he noticed something unsettling.

The ships looked closer than they once were...

Ethan (Continuous P2)

Sweat flew off Ethan’s brow as he shot up from his slumber. His eyes were wide and hazy, reddened and alert as they scanned his surroundings. Darkness enveloped him, biting fear etching through his core. His teeth clenched, muscles coiled, ready to launch himself like a rocket. His eyes narrowed as he was about to...

His hands connected with the blanket draped around him. He paused, blinking rapidly, his fingers brushing along the soft fabric. He closed his eyes, a sigh erupting from his lips as his right hand went to his face.

“What is wrong with me?” he muttered into the air, his voice barely a whisper. His head still scrambled from awakening, his heavy breaths shaking his body. “Thank you, Joy,” he softly murmured.

His hand slapped harder across his face, forcing his eyes to adjust to the dark room. Realization dawned: he had slipped into sleep while watching TV with his sister. She had grabbed a blanket from her room and covered him while he slept on the couch.

He was safe in his own home, yet the moment he woke up and didn’t recognize the place, fear and anxiety surged through him. His heart pounded in his chest, ready for fight or flight. All because he woke up on his couch instead of his bed?

The words he had spoken echoed in his mind. His eyes narrowed as he pushed off the blanket, his hands combing through his hair. He had nearly triggered a panic attack for what? Because he woke up on his couch in a dark room instead of his bedroom. Was that really going to be the thing that triggered another attack?

He sneered, pushing the blanket fully off as he rose from the couch. Taking a deep breath, he ran his fingers over the fatigue etched into his features, brushing past his sweat-soaked hair. He made his way to the bathroom.

Flicking on the light, he turned the knob, letting steamy hot water fill the sink. His hands gripped the sides of the sink as he splashed his face, trying to wipe away the last strands of exhaustion. Yet...

His eyes drifted to his left hand. The fingers twitched slightly, just enough to catch his attention. The hand remained firm, mostly under his control, but the subtle tremor lingered. Ethan shook his head. It wasn’t that bad, but he hoped the cigarettes or a drink would still it.

A ringing echoed from the kitchen. Ethan turned around, eyebrows furrowed. “The hell?” he murmured to himself. He walked toward the kitchen, glancing at the green glow of the stove clock. 1:30 in the morning. Who could be calling at this hour?

He picked up the house phone, bringing it to his ear and wincing at the abrupt sound. “Ethan!” a voice shouted.

“What?” he spat back, eyes narrowing as annoyance knotted in his gut. “Who the hell... who the fuck is this?”

A resounding crash echoed from the other end of the line, but the voice was unmistakably familiar. “Ethan, it’s me,” the voice repeated. “It’s David.”

“David,” Ethan sighed, rubbing his nose and forehead. He could tell this night was already taking a long turn. “David, it’s really late. What do you need?”

A loud crash, like ceramic shattering, broke through the phone, followed by whooping and cheering, with David's voice mingling in the fray. Then, he spoke again, “Listen, Ethan, remember that end-of-the-world party?”

Ethan groaned, piecing together what had happened. He took the phone with him as he sat on the couch, drawing his legs up and feeling a smirk tug at his lips. “Alright, what happened, David?”

“See, pretty funny story.”

“Oh really,” Ethan uttered back, sarcasm dripping.

“Yeah, you know I didn’t even really want to go to that party.” David chuckled, the slur of drunkenness clear in his voice.

Ethan could imagine him now, standing in a cluster of peers and students from neighboring schools, drink in hand, socializing. David always had that knack for people, a talent Ethan never truly held.

Ethan sighed, relaxing into the couch, his expression softening. “So, how’s the party?”

David clicked his lips. “Good,” he slurred, then fell silent for a moment. “You should’ve come. I know you had that thing, but you would’ve had enough time to swing by.”

Ethan rolled his eyes, fingers massaging the fatigue from his face. “David, you and I both know I don’t do parties.”

“You like drinking and smoking though,” David shot back.

“That’s different.”

David sighed. “The only difference is that I drink and smoke at parties. You just drink and smoke for... well, any reason to make you feel good.” He paused as Ethan rose from the couch. “You know, Charlotte is here.”

Red flushed Ethan’s cheeks for a moment before he shook his head vigorously. “Whatever,” he murmured. “So what, Charlotte’s over there.”

David chuckled, the sound mingling with the distant party noises. “Man, you’re hopeless. You’ve had a crush on her for years, and she’s here, probably looking gorgeous, and you’re at home sulking.”

Ethan clenched his jaw. “I’m not sulking. I had responsibilities.”

“Responsibilities,” David mocked lightly. “You’re eighteen, Ethan. Live a little. You’ve done more than most people our age ever will. You deserve to have some fun.”

Ethan sighed again, leaning back into the couch. “Yeah, well, maybe next time.”

“There won’t always be a next time, you know,” David said, his tone suddenly serious. “The world’s changing. You should grab hold of the good moments when you can.”

Ethan's grip on the phone tightened. “I know, David. I just... I have my reasons.”

“You know that if you actually talked to your peers, maybe you’d have more friends and people would actually like you.”

Ethan sneered. “I don’t need people to like me. School is school, and I go there to work and study.”

A vivid groan erupted from the phone. “Sure, keep telling yourself that,” David spat back.

Ethan felt the weight of fatigue settling over him, growing heavier with each passing second. He began to pace towards the window, his gaze drifting to the rows of cars illuminating the night streets. The city's hum was a distant, muffled sound, a backdrop to his thoughts. His eyes then caught sight of something in the sky.

His breath hitched. The Martian ships were visible in the distance, their strange, utilitarian blocky design unmistakable even from this far. They must have been hovering in the upper atmosphere now, a silent reminder of the ever-present tension between the two worlds. A spike of fear knotted in his gut, but he shook his head, trying to dispel the rising panic.

It was like he told his sister before he slipped into sleep. This happened practically every year, a decade-long measuring contest between Earth and Mars. The Martians had only touched Earth’s surface once, and they were beaten back to the stars. He knew better than anyone what that was like.

A snort rose from Ethan's chest as he turned his attention back to the phone call. “Listen, David,” he spoke, his voice edged with irritation. “I’m mad tired and we got class tomorrow. If you don’t need anything, then I’m just going to—”

“Wait, Ethan!” David cut him off. “Listen, I really need someone to help me walk back home. I’m way too drunk right now.”

Ethan stared outside, processing David’s words. “Wait, you want me to go all the way to the party to basically walk you back home?” He glanced at the clock and then back out the window. “David, what the hell!” he snapped.

“Ethan, please!” David begged, desperation clear in his voice.

Ethan shook his head on reflex. “Hell no,” he snapped back. “Go ask Jonas or Lena to do it for you. You’re Mr. Popular, aren’t you?”

He was about to hang up when he heard David quickly prattle, “Lena and Jonas are too drunk and I think they are—”

“They are what?” Ethan questioned, suspicion lacing his tone.

David went silent. Ethan could hear the boy scratching his head, struggling to articulate whatever was on his mind. He glanced at the clock again. It was already late, and he was exhausted. He had gone to school that day, worked a long shift, and then attended the medal veteran ceremony. He had been on his feet all day, and that was another reason why he had accidentally slipped into sleep. It was a freaking Tuesday of all things, and David had decided to get so drunk with people who weren’t concerned enough to bring him back home.

Now, he expected Ethan to trek all the way to the party, deal with his drunken antics, and sneak him back home without his family knowing. Sure, David was just asking for a pick-up, but Ethan knew his friend well enough to understand that there was always more to the request.

Ethan sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “David, you know what time it is, right? It’s late, man. I’m tired, and I’ve got work stuff to do tomorrow.”

“Please, Ethan. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important,” David pleaded, his voice softer, more vulnerable.

He sighed, gripping the phone tighter as he turned towards his room. His eyes narrowed, and his hands pressed against his face. David was a good guy, and deep down, Ethan knew his friend would understand why he didn’t want to come. He had school and work tomorrow, a scholarship at the academy to maintain. He didn’t have time to waste picking up a drunk friend. He had a sick mother and a sister who hated her school and had been skipping classes for weeks.

He had a family to take care of, responsibilities that weighed heavily on him. Yet, that thought didn’t ease the groan that erupted from his lips as he wiped the final strands of fatigue from his eyes.

“Fuck you, David,” he whispered into the phone, only to hear David chuckle on the other end.

“You’re lucky that I’m not tired right now, or you’d have to waste your money on a taxi.”

“Joke’s on you, bitch,” David snapped back with a hearty laugh. “I’m broke as fuck.”

Ethan shook his head, a reluctant smile forming. “Okay, get your stuff ready and don’t drink anymore,” he said, grabbing his jacket and tying his shoes. “I’ll be there soon, and the moment I get there, we’re leaving.”

David sighed, the sound of resignation mixed with gratitude. “The fun always has to end,” he said, but Ethan could hear the smile in his voice. “Thank you, Ethan. You’re my best friend.”

Ethan smirked, his own warm smile spreading across his face. “You too, David,” he whispered.

A gasp came from the phone. “Wait, what did you say!” David snapped back. “I heard that, repeat it, louder!”

“No,” Ethan chuckled. “I’ll be there in a bit. Get ready.”

David’s pleading was cut off as Ethan ended the call. He returned the phone to the kitchen, a yawn escaping him. He shook his head slightly, grabbing his keys and opening the door slowly. He didn’t want to wake his mother and sister for something as dumb as this.

The door clicked shut behind him, and Ethan emerged into the streets. A young teenager on his way to pick up his drunk friend who had overindulged, while above him, the Martian death machines loomed, silent sentinels ready to unleash nuclear devastation on the city.

… a constant reminder of the fragile peace they lived under.