Kieran's Perspective
The bell rang, a sharp, jarring sound that pulled Kieran out of the fog of thought. The classroom buzzed with the sudden eruption of voices, a tide of chatter and movement. He didn't immediately stand, still lost somewhere between Alden's lesson and the unsettling weight of Roy's silence beside him.
But then Roy shifted. His chair scraped softly against the floor as he leaned back, eyes half-lidded, as if contemplating something far beyond the classroom walls.
"Funny", Roy said, voice low, his gaze distant, "how everything's about the Nova. A brilliant flash. A sign of light, of something bigger than what we are."
Kieran glanced at him, unsure if Roy was talking to him or just thinking out loud. "Nova?"
Roy didn't seem to notice. Or maybe he did but didn't care. He kept talking, his voice carrying that usual detachment that made him seem so far removed from everything around him.
"Yeah. The Nova. People think it's just an explosion of a star, a flash that burns bright and then fades. But that's not it. It's more than that. The Nova is the point where everything comes together, like a burst of light for those who never had a place to stand. It's for the discarded. The ones who've been forgotten and crushed under the weight of the world. It's for people like me." His eyes flickered to Kieran, and there was a moment of something unspoken between them. "The Nova... is the spark that gives people like us a reason to fight."
Roy's voice dropped to an almost imperceptible level, but the words still rang in Kieran's ears. "Maybe that's the ambition. To form something for them. A place for the broken, the lost, and the ones who have nothing left. A place where we can burn bright for just a moment."
The room felt quieter for a brief moment. Kieran didn't know what to say. He didn't know why, but Roy's words seemed to cling to him, their weight pressing against him from all sides.
He wanted to ask more. But something held him back.
Roy's voice dropped lower, almost a whisper, but the words still carried weight. "There are three ways a man can live in this harsh and cruel world and that is,"
Kieran felt the shift again. His focus zeroed in on Roy, curiosity edging into his thoughts despite himself.
Roy spoke slowly, as though each word was a decision, something he'd considered for a long time. "First, there's the way of the blind man. The one who chooses to live with their head buried in the sand. They ignore everything. They pretend it's not happening. They pretend the world's not broken, and it's easier that way. It's safer. But in the end, it's hollow."
He let the words sit for a moment, letting them sink in before moving on. Kieran could feel the atmosphere shift, like the air had turned colder, or maybe it was just him.
"Second", Roy continued, voice quieter now, "there's the way of the prisoner. The one who recognises the chains but doesn't know how to break them. They fight, sure. But they fight because they have to. They fight because they're trapped. And in the end, they don't really care about the fight. They just want out. They just want to survive."
Kieran's eyes flicked to Roy's hands—his fingers were steepled, almost in thought, but his gaze remained on Kieran.
"And then", Roy's voice softened further, the words drawn out like a secret, "there's the way of the man who chooses to fight, regardless. The one who understands the chains, sees the cracks in the world, and decides to keep going. Not because he has to. Not because it's easy. But because... he believes in something. Even when everything's telling him to give up. He fights for more than himself. He fights because he believes, somewhere deep inside, that the world can be better. That we can be better."
There was a pause. Kieran's mind raced, the words sinking deeper than he wanted to admit.
Roy's gaze drifted, and he stood up, slinging his bag over his shoulder. "Most people don't make it past the first two. The blind or the prisoner. But the third... the third is the hardest. Because it's not about surviving. It's about choosing to fight for something when it's easier to let go."
He turned his back then, facing the door. The room, the world, seemed to settle back into its usual rhythm as Roy walked out of the classroom, leaving Kieran staring after him.
For a moment, Kieran didn't move. His pencil lay forgotten in front of him. His mind churned, still caught in the whirl of Roy's words. The three ways a man could live. The first two are the easy ways... but the third? Was that what Roy had meant? Was he trying to tell me something that I don't understand?
Kieran didn't have the answers yet. But he was beginning to wonder if he was just waffling this whole time, but without Kieran noticing, the bruises he had this morning just vanished as if they were never there.