July arrived almost unnoticed.
The beaches were crowded from early morning, colourful umbrellas spreading across the sand like patches of paint beneath the California sun. Parks were filled with children racing between playgrounds, their laughter echoing through the warm afternoon air. Shopping centres bustled with families taking advantage of summer sales, teenagers wandered from store to store with nothing better to do, and even traffic somehow managed to become worse despite schools being closed.
More importantly, Alexander's friends were finally coming home.
Chuck was the first.
Alexander had barely stepped through the entrance to their usual park, Duel Monsters deck tucked beneath one arm, before a familiar voice rang across the field, "Lex! There you are!"
Several people turned toward the commotion. Alexander didn't need to look to know exactly who it was.
Chuck practically pointed at him from halfway across the lawn, "I demand a duel."
Alexander blinked before the corners of his mouth twitched upward, "Hello to you too."
"I said hello."
"No," Alexander replied with a laugh, "you challenged me to a duel."
Chuck waved a dismissive hand, "It's the same thing."
Alexander couldn't help laughing, "I missed you too."
Chuck's exaggerated confidence slipped for just a moment, replaced by a genuine grin, "Yeah..."
Before either of them could continue, another familiar voice joined the conversation, "You boys are unbelievable."
Julia approached carrying a small shopping bag filled with hobby magazines she'd apparently picked up on the way. The moment she reached them, she wrapped Alexander in a quick hug before immediately doing the same to Chuck, then shared a quick kiss. Then she said, "It's good to see you both again."
"You too," Chuck answered with a broad smile.
Alexander nodded in agreement and observed, "It feels like it's been longer than a few weeks."
"It always does," Julia admitted. "Then five minutes later we're acting like we never left."
As if on cue, another figure appeared from the opposite path.
Ginny.
She walked over at her usual relaxed pace before offering the group a small, warm smile as she said, "Looks like everyone's finally back."
And just like that, everything returned to normal.
There was no grand reunion, no emotional speeches, no dramatic declarations about how much everyone had missed each other.
Chuck immediately started complaining about the duel he'd lost before summer break. Julia rolled her eyes with practised patience. Ginny quietly listened, occasionally adding a dry observation that somehow made Chuck even more indignant.
Alexander found himself smiling without realising it.
Some friendships didn't require effort; they simply resumed.
~~~▽~~~
The following days passed in a pleasant blur.
Summer settled into an easy routine, each morning offering another excuse to leave the house before breakfast had fully settled and another reason to stay out until the streetlights flickered on.
One afternoon found the four of them at Santa Monica Beach.
The ocean breeze offered only limited relief from the July heat, but none of them seemed particularly bothered. Chuck had somehow convinced himself that beach volleyball was the perfect way to spend the afternoon.
"It's my sport," he declared confidently while spinning the volleyball on one finger.
Alexander watched it fall into the sand a second later before he dryly commented, "I'm beginning to suspect confidence and ability aren't necessarily related."
Chuck ignored him and exclaimed, "Prepare yourself."
Twenty minutes later, Chuck lay dramatically sprawled across the sand, one arm thrown across his forehead as though he'd survived a great tragedy before he shouted, "No fair! I demand a rematch!"
Alexander wiped a bit of sand from his hands, "You say that after everything."
"I believe in perseverance."
"I think," Ginny said quietly, "you're just allergic to admitting defeat."
Chuck pointed accusingly toward her, "You're supposed to support your friends."
"I am." She smiled pleasantly, "I'm supporting Alexander."
Julia laughed so hard she nearly dropped her sunglasses into the sand before she said, "You walked right into that one."
Chuck groaned loudly enough that several nearby beachgoers glanced over before returning to their own conversations.
Alexander simply stretched beneath the warm sunlight, listening to the steady rhythm of waves crashing against the shore while thinking, 'This is nice. Only a few days ago, every day seemed destined to disappear beneath meetings, engineering problems, unexpected crises or farming sessions. Now... I can waste an afternoon playing volleyball with friends and relax. I truly needed this.'
~~~▽~~~
Another day they went to the arcade.
Bright lights flashed across rows of machines while electronic music blended into a constant background chorus of victory jingles and disappointed groans.
Chuck somehow managed to lose every racing game despite loudly proclaiming himself a "naturally gifted driver" before each race.
"The steering wheel's crooked."
Alexander glanced toward the untouched cabinet beside them, "Only yours...?"
"It knows I'm winning."
"I'm not sure that's how machines work."
"They're intimidated."
Alexander wasn't even certain how to respond to that.
A few machines away, Ginny quietly inserted another token into her racing cabinet.
Unlike Chuck, she said almost nothing while playing.
Her eyes remained fixed on the screen, movements calm and precise as she guided her car through each corner without unnecessary motion.
The race ended.
The machine chimed cheerfully.
*NEW HIGH SCORE*
Only then did anyone notice.
Chuck slowly turned his head and asked, "Since when can you drive like that?"
Ginny looked mildly surprised by the attention before she replied, "I've been practising."
"When?"
"I have a little brother, and he loves this game, so whenever I accompany him to an arcade I end up playing with him."
Chuck stared at the screen as though it had personally betrayed him before he muttered, "I refuse to believe this."
Alexander couldn't suppress a grin and quiped, "It appears the steering wheel only dislikes you."
"I've been framed."
Julia laughed as she snapped a quick picture of Chuck's horrified expression with her camera, "Oh, this one's definitely getting developed."
"Destroy the evidence."
"Never."
~~~▽~~~
Movies quickly became another routine.
No matter what happened during the week, somehow someone always suggested seeing the newest release.
Chuck invariably bought far too much popcorn, every single time.
"You know," Alexander observed one afternoon as Chuck struggled to balance an enormous bucket alongside several drinks, "they do sell smaller sizes."
"They also sell disappointment."
"You've eaten half of it before the trailers."
"I'm preparing."
"For what?"
"The movie."
Alexander decided not to ask how that worked.
Julia enthusiastically commented on costumes, set design and visual effects throughout the walk back to the parking lot after every showing. She seemed fascinated by the amount of work hidden behind even the briefest scenes, often pointing out details Alexander hadn't consciously noticed.
"I liked the villain's jacket."
Chuck looked confused, "That's your biggest takeaway?"
"It was a really nice jacket."
"I was thinking more about the explosions."
"I noticed."
Ginny, meanwhile, somehow predicted nearly every ending halfway through each film.
Alexander eventually gave up trying to understand how, "I'm beginning to think you secretly read the script."
She smiled with perfect innocence, "I have no idea what you're talking about."
"You guessed the twist after twenty minutes."
"It seemed obvious."
"It absolutely wasn't."
"It was a little."
Chuck folded his arms, "I got it too."
Alexander raised an eyebrow, "You thought the detective was the villain."
"...I was close."
"You were impressively not."
~~~▽~~~
Fast food afterwards became almost mandatory.
The restaurant itself rarely mattered.
Sometimes burgers. Sometimes pizza. Sometimes whatever happened to be open after the movie ended.
The food was never the important part; the conversations were.
School. Summer plans. Comic books. Video games. Television. Arguments over which Duel Monsters artwork looked best.
Julia always judged cards almost entirely by their illustrations and demanded that Alexander focus more on that, as some of the artworks were too creepy.
Chuck insisted that being a Dragon and having high attack points mattered more than appearances and suggested the creation of a Dragon with 5000 ATK points.
Alexander argued that memorable artwork gave cards personality, but also added that the most important factor was that the card connected to who was using them.
Ginny quietly listened until everyone else had finished before offering the observation that somehow settled the discussion, "Why can't all of those factors matter?"
The table fell silent.
Chuck frowned before he admitted, "I dislike how reasonable that answer is."
Alexander laughed, "It does make arguing difficult."
Hours disappeared surprisingly quickly.
Alexander often found himself simply listening while the others carried the conversation from one topic to another without ever seeming to run out of things to discuss.
He felt content. Entirely content.
~~~▽~~~
Naturally, Duel Monsters occupied most afternoons.
The park benches, picnic tables and occasionally Alexander's backyard all transformed into makeshift dueling arenas as soon as someone produced a deck box.
Chuck remained exactly as competitive as ever.
Whenever he lost...
"I want a rematch."
Whenever he won...
"Best two out of three."
Whenever Alexander suggested calling it a day...
"One more duel."
Julia eventually started keeping count.
She pulled a small notebook from her bag one afternoon before making another tally mark, "I believe that's your seventh rematch today."
Chuck crossed his arms with complete seriousness, "I'm conducting research."
Alexander raised an eyebrow, "Into what?"
"Determination."
"I'm fairly certain determination doesn't require this many losses."
"Science demands sacrifice."
Julia quietly added an eighth tally before Chuck had even finished speaking.
Talking about Julia, she had, however, developed an entirely different obsession.
Collecting.
Whenever they passed a comic shop or hobby store during their outings, Julia stopped walking and said, "We're stopping."
It wasn't really a request, and Chuck sighed dramatically, "We were making good time."
"We'll continue making good time after we're finished."
"How long is 'finished?'"
She smiled brightly, "I don't know yet."
Alexander simply laughed.
Inside the shops, Julia rarely searched for the most valuable cards, nor the strongest; instead, she spent surprisingly long periods admiring artwork, layouts and typography before trading them.
"This character is beautiful."
She held one card beneath the light, "Aahh, this one is counterfeit..."
A moment later, she picked up another, "I love this illustration."
Alexander watched her compare several cards side by side with genuine concentration before he said, "You know you've got a surprisingly good eye."
Julia glanced up, blinked and asked, "You think so?"
"I do."
"You can usually explain why you like something instead of just saying it's pretty."
She looked back down at the cards in her hands before a faint smile crossed her face, and she muttered, "Maybe I should learn more about design..."
Alexander had a feeling she eventually would.
Meanwhile, Ginny quietly continued improving. She never announced it, never bragged, never made excuses whenever she lost. She simply kept playing.
Then one afternoon, Chuck lost, "Again..."
He stared at the field for several seconds before looking back up and demanding, "Best two out of three!"
Ginny smiled, "Of course."
She won again.
Chuck slowly turned toward Alexander, "Say something..."
Alexander folded his arms and said, "I think she's just got better."
"I reject that conclusion."
Nearby, Roland calmly observed the duel from beneath the shade of a tree, a book resting comfortably in one hand, "It appears Miss Potts has improved considerably."
Chuck threw both hands into the air, "Even Roland's against me."
"I'm merely acknowledging observable facts."
Alexander couldn't stop himself from laughing.
Some things, thankfully, never changed.
Between outings, Alexander occasionally stopped by Industrial Illusions.
The company had changed considerably since its earliest days. What had once been little more than a handful of offices occupied by enthusiastic employees on a single floor had steadily grown into hundreds of them filled with artists, designers, engineers and administrative staff over many floors of the same building.
There was always something happening.
Phones rang. Typewriters clacked steadily in the background. Employees crossed the hallways carrying stacks of documents, exchanging greetings as they hurried toward meetings, yet despite the constant activity, there was very little chaos.
Most visits lasted less than an hour.
Roland handled the majority of executive meetings with his usual quiet efficiency. Department managers solved problems before they reached Alexander's desk. Phineas Mason's research division remained buried beneath blueprints, circuit boards and half-finished prototypes that seemed to multiply every time Alexander visited.
Alexander approved a handful of major decisions, reviewed several financial reports, and spent a few minutes discussing research progress with Mason, giving his own input on the parts that focused on Solid Vision, then quietly left again.
~~~▽~~~
July continued to drift by at an almost leisurely pace.
Days blended together beneath cloudless California skies, each one warm enough to encourage another trip outdoors.
Then the 4th of July arrived.
The morning sunlight poured through the dining room windows, filling the house with a warm golden glow.
For once, Hugh Jones had intentionally cleared his schedule.
Alexander noticed almost immediately.
His father rarely allowed himself entire mornings away from Roxxon. Even when physically present, there was usually a telephone within reach, a stack of reports waiting nearby or an assistant arriving with some urgent matter requiring his attention.
Today none of that happened.
Breakfast remained pleasantly ordinary.
Fresh coffee. Toast. Eggs. Newspaper headlines that neither of them felt particularly inclined to discuss, and instead, the conversation wandered naturally from one subject to another.
Hugh asked about Alexander's friends returning for the summer.
Alexander mentioned Chuck's endless demands for rematches.
A faint smile appeared on Hugh's face as he observed, "I imagine losing has never agreed with him."
"It hasn't."
"Does he improve?"
Alexander considered the question, "Yes... Not as quickly as his confidence."
That earned a quiet chuckle.
For several moments, neither of them spoke, but the silence wasn't uncomfortable.
Alexander had gradually come to appreciate moments like these.
His father had never been especially talkative, and he wasn't the type to express affection through grand speeches or dramatic gestures; Instead, he simply chose to be present, and somehow, that carried just as much meaning.
Later that morning, they attended a local Independence Day parade.
The sidewalks overflowed with families dressed in red, white and blue. Children enthusiastically waved small American flags while perched on their parents' shoulders, hoping for a better view of the approaching procession.
The first marching band rounded the corner, brass instruments gleaming beneath the summer sun.
Music echoed through the streets.
Behind them came decorated floats representing local schools, charities and community organisations.
Veterans rode atop restored military vehicles while the surrounding crowds applauded warmly as they passed.
Alexander noticed Hugh applauding with everyone else, perhaps even a little longer.
Afterwards, they attended a Roxxon-sponsored veterans' appreciation event held in one of the city's larger civic centres.
Unlike the parade, the atmosphere here was quieter. Instead of speeches dominating the afternoon, conversations filled the room.
Former servicemen greeted old friends. Families gathered around display tables covered with photographs and memorabilia. Several charitable organisations accepted donations while volunteers moved between guests offering refreshments.
Alexander remained mostly beside his father because he found himself quietly observing.
Over the years, Alexander had grown accustomed to seeing Hugh negotiate with executives, investors and politicians, but this was different.
Several veterans greeted Hugh by name before he had the opportunity to introduce himself.
One elderly man clasped his father's hand with unmistakable familiarity, "Good to see you again, Hugh."
"You as well."
Another thanked him for continuing to support rehabilitation programs long after public attention had shifted elsewhere.
A younger veteran expressed appreciation for a scholarship Roxxon had quietly funded.
Each conversation lasted only a few minutes.
None of them felt rehearsed; none of them sounded like public relations.
When someone thanked Hugh for his generosity, he simply shook his head, "We've only tried to help where we can."
Nothing more. No attempt to draw attention toward himself, no carefully crafted speech.
Alexander found himself seeing another side of the man who had raised him. Not the executive newspapers wrote about, not the businessman competitors feared. Simply his father.
Driving home later that afternoon, Alexander rested one elbow against the passenger-side window, watching the city pass by outside.
There had been no heartfelt conversations.
No emotional declarations, no lengthy father-son discussion about life, yet Hugh had intentionally set aside an entire day.
Considering the responsibilities he carried every week, that decision alone spoke volumes.
Sometimes time was affection.
Alexander doubted Hugh even realised that.
By evening, the summer heat had finally begun to soften.
Alexander met his friends near one of Los Angeles' largest public fireworks displays, where hundreds of families had already gathered across the park long before sunset.
Blankets covered the grass.
Children chased one another between picnic baskets.
Vendors wandered through the crowd selling drinks, snacks and glowing toys that would undoubtedly stop working before the night ended.
Chuck arrived carrying enough food for what appeared to be an entire neighbourhood.
Alexander stared and asked, "Planning to feed Los Angeles?"
Chuck glanced down at the overloaded tray balanced in his arms, "I might've overestimated."
"You bought four hot dogs."
"I'm hungry."
"You also bought three bags of popcorn."
"They were on sale."
Julia leaned over to inspect the growing collection, "I think he panicked."
"I did not panic."
"You bought enough napkins for a family reunion."
"Preparation isn't panic."
Alexander shook his head, "I'm almost convinced."
Julia, meanwhile, had already begun photographing everything.
The skyline glowing beneath the setting sun. The slowly growing crowd. A father lifting his daughter onto his shoulders. Even Chuck desperately attempting to balance four drinks without spilling any of them.
"Hold still."
"I'm trying not to drop these."
"Exactly."
The camera clicked.
"There."
Chuck looked suspicious before he said, "Destroy the roll."
"Absolutely not."
"Please..."
Some time later, the first firework burst across the night sky.
A brilliant bloom of red illuminated the city skyline. Another followed. Then blue. Gold. Silver.
Within moments, the darkness overhead had transformed into a constant display of colour and light, each explosion briefly painting the faces of the surrounding crowd.
Children cheered.
Applause rippled through the park after particularly spectacular displays.
For several peaceful minutes, nobody in their group spoke as there wasn't much to say.
Alexander simply leaned back against the blanket beneath them and watched another cascade of golden sparks drift slowly toward the horizon.
No supernatural crises. No emergency meetings. No impossible engineering problems demanding immediate solutions. No expectations.
Just friends. Just summer. Just one quiet evening beneath a sky full of fireworks.
It was enough, more than enough.
~~~▽~~~
The following days continued much the same.
More parks. More beaches. More Duel Monsters. More afternoons that somehow disappeared before anyone noticed.
Chuck and Julia occasionally wandered ahead together while arguing over entirely trivial subjects.
Whether a particular monster artwork looked better in blue or red. Whether comic books or movies handled action scenes more effectively. Whether pineapple belonged on pizza. It didn't.
They rarely agreed. They never seemed bothered by that. Their debates simply continued until someone became distracted by something else.
That often left Alexander and Ginny walking side by side a short distance behind them.
Neither seemed particularly concerned by the quiet.
Sometimes they talked. Sometimes they didn't.
Oddly enough, Alexander found himself appreciating both equally.
Ginny wasn't the sort of person who felt compelled to fill every silence; instead, she seemed perfectly comfortable allowing the world around them to speak for itself.
The sound of waves rolling onto the beach. The rustling leaves in the park. The distant traffic humming beyond the sidewalks.
It made conversations feel less like obligations and more like pleasant interruptions.
One afternoon, while watching Chuck unsuccessfully convince Julia that a particularly rare card was "obviously worth buying because it was a Dragon," Alexander caught himself smiling.
"What?" Ginny asked.
"I was just thinking."
"Dangerous."
"It can be."
"What about?"
Alexander looked toward the three friends who had become such an ordinary part of his life.
For a moment, he struggled to find the right words, then he simply shook his head and said, "Nothing important."
Ginny followed his gaze before a small understanding smile appeared on her face.
She didn't press the matter.
Alexander eventually realised something. This was probably the happiest summer either version of himself had ever experienced.
Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!
Use arrow keys (or A / D) to PREV/NEXT chapter