Jason glanced at the clock.
7:00 p.m.
Right. Party’s tonight. Somehow completely forgot to nail down when.
He’d been so busy arguing with a floating notification about the fate of his own anatomy that the actual logistics had slipped clean past him.
He pulled up his messages, scrolled past Ben’s thread, and found Marcus instead. Marcus was the one person he could reliably count on to already have every detail memorized down to the minute, given the man’s near-religious devotion to never missing a party in his life.
Jason: hey. you going to amanda’s thing tonight?
The reply came back almost immediately. It didn’t surprise him at all.
Marcus: obviously. why. you asking like you’re actually considering it
Jason: i am actually considering it
Marcus: wait what
Marcus: JASON
Marcus: the same jason who hasn’t shown up to a single social event in a month
Marcus: are you feeling okay
Jason huffed a short laugh at his phone and shook his head.
Even Marcus is shocked. Great. My reputation for being a recluse has apparently spread further than I realized.
Jason: i’m fine. just figured i should actually go for once
Marcus: i respect it. genuinely. what time you thinking
Jason: that’s actually why i’m asking. i don’t know what time it starts
Marcus: 8. don’t show up before then unless you enjoy standing around watching people set up snacks
Jason: noted. where is it exactly
Marcus: her building. the one off fifth, you should know there
He remembered clearly. A cramped apartment. Too many people crammed around one coffee table. Amanda’s roommate complaining about someone eating all the good snacks before anyone else got there.
"Yeah. I remember it."
Jason: yeah i remember. you walking or driving
Marcus: walking. it’s not far from me. you?
Jason: i can walk too. want to just meet somewhere close and go together
Marcus: yeah that works. there’s that coffee place on the corner two blocks from her building. 7:45?
Jason: works for me
Marcus: see you there. still can’t believe you’re actually coming lol
Jason set the phone down and exhaled slowly.
One hour. Give or take.
Plenty of time, technically. Though he found himself oddly aware of every minute now that there was an actual deadline attached.
It was the same restless energy he used to feel before exams back in college. He knew exactly how much time remained and somehow still managed to feel behind on it.
He crossed to his closet, slid the door open, and stood there for a second. He simply looked at the options hanging in front of him.
I’m going to be there for what, twenty minutes? Thirty, tops. Walk in, say hi, exist visibly in the same room as Amanda long enough to satisfy whatever the system’s actually tracking, and walk back out.
He reached for the first shirt on instinct. A plain gray henley he’d worn a hundred times.
Then he paused, hand still on the hanger.
But if I’m going to be seen, even for twenty minutes, I might as well actually look like I put in effort. Last thing I need is Amanda seeing me looking like I rolled out of bed for this.
He pulled the henley out anyway and held it up against himself in the mirror.
Then he shook his head and hung it back up.
He moved down the row, fingers trailing over a few button-downs he never really wore.
A dark green one that fit well but felt slightly too formal for a house party.
A white one that felt too much like a job interview.
He pulled out a black long-sleeve shirt instead. Fitted. Simple. The kind of thing that looked deliberate without looking like it had taken any effort at all.
This works.
He held it against himself and checked the fit in the mirror. He noticed, not for the first time today, how differently it sat against his shoulders now compared to how it used to.
Definitely didn’t used to fill this out like this.
He allowed himself a small, private moment of satisfaction before moving on.
For pants, he grabbed a pair of dark jeans. Well-fitted but not overly tight. The kind of thing that worked whether he ended up standing around at a party or, more likely, walking straight back out of one twenty minutes later.
He laid both pieces out on the bed and stepped back to look at the full outfit together.
Long sleeves. Long pants. Fully covered, basically.
He caught the thought and almost laughed at himself.
Not that I’m thinking about the system’s threat specifically. Just. Better safe than sorry, in a purely metaphorical sense. Nothing to do with fabric actually protecting anything from anything.
He got dressed methodically.
He pulled the shirt on first, adjusted the sleeves, and checked the fit in the mirror from a couple of different angles.
Good. Looks intentional. Looks like a guy who thought about this outfit for more than the actual four minutes I spent on it.
He pulled the jeans on next. Then he sat on the edge of his bed to lace up a pair of clean sneakers.
They were the same ones he’d worn to the gym that morning. He’d wiped them down quickly with a damp cloth first to get rid of any obvious scuffing.
He checked himself in the full-length mirror by his closet and turned slightly to see the whole picture.
Not bad.
The clothes fit differently than they used to. The muscle definition from the system’s reward was visible even under the long sleeves. There was a subtle shift in how the fabric sat across his shoulders and arms that hadn’t been there a week ago.
If nothing else comes out of tonight, at least I look the part of someone who has his life together. Even if that’s currently a lie in at least four separate ways.
He ran a hand through his hair once. Quick and efficient. He didn’t bother with anything more elaborate than that.
Then he grabbed his phone and wallet off the nightstand and slid them into his pockets.
Twenty minutes.
He reminded himself of that as he checked the time again.
7:20.
Enough time to walk to the coffee shop, meet Marcus, and cover the rest of the distance to Amanda’s building before eight.
Show up, get seen, leave. Simple. In and out. The system gets its confirmation, I get to keep my current dimensions, and everyone goes home happy.
He paused at his front door with his hand on the handle.
It was the same spot he’d stood the night before while watching Sarah walk out of it. Something about the parallel struck him for a second before he shook it off.
Different night. Different problem.
He pulled the door open and stepped out into the hallway. This time, he locked it carefully behind him. No repeat of last night’s absent-minded oversight.
He started walking toward the coffee shop with his hands in his pockets. One more time, he ran through exactly how briefly he intended to actually stay at this party.
In. Seen. Out.
He repeated it to himself like a mantra. He was half convinced that if he said it with enough conviction, the universe, the system, or whatever force had apparently taken an interest in micromanaging his evening might actually cooperate and let it be that simple.
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