The Clarke-Fields apartment was filled with the unmistakable aroma of soy sauce, fried rice, and potential gastrointestinal regret. A big takeout spread from Golden Star Wok covered the dining table like a delicious battlefield: cartons of lo mein, egg rolls, hot and sour soup, sweet and sour chicken, and one dangerously spicy dish that Daniel had insisted was "mild."

Andrew had already downed two glasses of water because of it. Kaden was on his third helping of white rice with chicken, chopsticks held in what could best be described as "chaotic Jedi grip."

"You're really going for that rice, huh?" Daniel asked, watching Kaden delicately yet aggressively shovel a piece of chicken into his mouth.

"I'm carbo-loading for math class," Kaden replied seriously, bits of rice falling onto his cartoon dinosaur placemat.

Andrew smiled, leaning back in his chair, chopsticks in hand. "Okay, academic king. What's the update? How are classes?"

"Math's fine. I like it when the numbers make sense," Kaden said with a shrug. "And Miss Lynn gave me a sticker that smells like root beer. I earned it because I read three whole books during library time."

Daniel blinked. "Wait. Three? In one period?"

Kaden beamed. "I'm a bookworm."

Andrew mock-gasped. "I knew it. We've raised a nerd. My work here is complete."

Kaden pointed his chopsticks at his dads. "You two are nerds too. Papa plays Wordle on the toilet and Dad reads books where people cry about birds."

Daniel snorted into his egg drop soup.

Andrew raised an eyebrow. "I'll have you know that book won an award and the bird metaphor was extremely profound."

Before Kaden could continue dragging their literary habits, the doorbell rang.

Andrew froze mid-bite, noodles hanging from his chopsticks. His voice lowered. "Oh no."

Daniel looked up. "What's wrong?"

Andrew's eyes widened. "What if it's Megan again?"

Daniel blinked. "Megan… like your ghost sister Megan?"

"Last time she peeked at me through my office window, Daniel. My window."

Daniel placed a hand on Andrew's arm. "Babe. It's probably Grubhub forgetting we already have food or a kid selling popcorn."

Andrew gave him a long look. "If she's holding a Girl Scout cookie form, I'm running."

Daniel chuckled and got up. "I'll handle it. You stay here. Guard the egg rolls."

He opened the door—and was met by a tall, familiar figure wearing a gray beanie and a massive grin.

"Malik!"

"YO!" Malik shouted, grinning from ear to ear, holding up a paper bag. "I come bearing sesame balls and nostalgia."

Daniel grabbed him into a half-bro hug with full-back energy. "Dude! It's been—what—five years? Since the sorority party?"

Malik stepped inside, scanning the apartment. "Longer, if you don't count the random Instagram DMs about 'do you remember that one girl who cried during Shake It Off.'"

Andrew peeked around the corner, visibly relieved to see a very not-haunting Malik. "Oh thank God. You're not my dead sister."

Malik blinked. "...I really hope that's not how you usually greet people."

Daniel chuckled, pulling him into the dining room. "Malik, this is my husband, Andrew. Andrew, this is Malik—college football teammate, karaoke partner, and the only guy who could eat six jalapeño poppers without crying."

Malik gave a playful bow. "Legend verified."

Andrew extended a hand. "Thanks for not being a spooky Victorian child. Welcome."

Malik turned toward the small human still going to town on his rice. "And this is?"

Kaden looked up proudly. "Kaden Clarke-Fields. I'm in kindergarten, I'm a bookworm, and I like facts about volcanoes."

Malik raised an impressed brow. "Strong intro. I vibe with that."

Kaden beamed. "You can sit by me."

Daniel grinned. "We're already upgrading his friend circle."

Later, the adults migrated to the couch, full from takeout and sipping tea like old men in their thirties. Kaden was busy building a LEGO volcano that looked vaguely like a lopsided muffin and announcing eruption updates every five minutes.

Daniel leaned back, hands behind his head. "So what brings you to town, man? Visiting?"

Malik grinned. "Actually, I live here now. Moved a few months ago. Guess where I work?"

Andrew blinked. "Don't say the haunted rec center."

"Nope." Malik smirked. "Columbus North High. Ceramics teacher."

Daniel's eyes widened. "You're kidding."

"I inherited the pottery wheel of destiny," Malik declared, dramatically. "And seventeen high schoolers who think clay is edible."

Andrew laughed. "Wait—so we've been working in the same building for months and had no idea?"

Malik nodded. "Saw Daniel's name on the staff email. Figured I'd drop by, make it dramatic. Mission accomplished."

Daniel nudged him. "So how's teaching?"

"Chaotic. But good. One kid made a bust of his dog. Another made a bowl shaped like a taco. It's art. It's messy. And someone tried to microwave a sponge."

Andrew groaned. "Please tell me the sponge survived."

"It's now a sculpture called 'Regret.'"

Daniel cracked up. "We have to hang sometime. You gotta come by the field. Meet the team."

Malik nodded. "Only if you let me be the guy who makes inspirational quotes out of clay."

Andrew smiled softly, watching Daniel and Malik reconnect, seeing how easily laughter and stories flowed between them like no time had passed.

"You two were close, huh?" he asked.

Daniel nodded. "Malik was the guy who always had my back. Especially when I was... figuring things out."

Malik raised a teasing brow. "You mean figuring out that you had a crush on the quiet guy in your writing class?"

Daniel blushed. "Okay wow. Going right for the archives."

Andrew laughed. "He was subtle about it. But yeah. I noticed."

Kaden, from the corner, announced: "My volcano is ready to explode!"

Everyone looked over just in time to see a handful of LEGO bricks go flying.

Malik raised his tea. "To new jobs, bookworm kids, and explosive science projects."

Daniel clinked his mug. "And unexpected reunions."

Andrew smiled. "And dinners that don't involve ghost sightings."

The room burst into laughter.

Because for all the past they'd endured—foggy towns, haunted memories, awkward teen years—moments like this?
This was real.
This was home.