wrong number connection

Chapter 4: A Glimpse into Lyndon's World

The sun had barely set, casting the room in soft, dusky light. Lyndon sat cross-legged on his bed, his guitar resting in his lap, its familiar weight a comfort. He strummed a few quiet chords, the sound filling the silence of his room. It wasn’t anything fancy, just a few simple notes, but to him, it felt like a conversation—his guitar speaking the words he couldn’t always find. Music was his escape, the one thing that made the world feel just a little less out of control.

He had never told anyone how much music meant to him. Not his parents, not the kids at school. They wouldn’t understand. But Natasha—well, she was different. He’d started telling her bits and pieces about his life, pieces that he had kept hidden for so long. And now, as he sat there in the dim glow of his lamp, he decided to share more with her.

Lyndon picked up his phone, his fingers moving with a practiced ease, typing out his thoughts.

“I’ve been playing guitar since I was about 11. It’s the only thing that keeps me sane.”

He stared at the words for a moment, unsure of how much to say. His mom had always dismissed his love for music, calling it a waste of time, a distraction. She didn’t get it. And the other kids at school didn’t either. They only saw him as someone to make fun of, someone who didn’t belong. But here, with Natasha, it was different. She listened. She didn’t judge.

“I play whenever I can, usually late at night when everyone else is asleep. My parents… they don’t like it. They don’t like anything I do, really.”

A soft chime signaled Natasha’s response. He picked up the phone quickly, eager to hear what she had to say.

“I’m glad you have something that’s just yours, something you can hold onto. Music is powerful, Lyndon. It can speak when words fail. And I believe you have a talent for it.”

He smiled, her words resonating deeper than he expected. It felt good to be seen, to have someone believe in him—even if it was just through a few kind texts.

But Lyndon wasn’t done yet. He wanted to share more. He wanted to explain the part of himself he kept buried deep, the part that no one understood. He hesitated for a moment, but then, after a deep breath, he typed again.

“There’s something else. Something I’ve been hiding for a long time.”

He stared at the screen, waiting for Natasha’s reply, his fingers tingling with uncertainty. She had never pushed him to reveal more than he was ready to share, but this was different. This was something he had only ever told himself. A power he had carried with him, one he didn’t fully understand.

“You can tell me whatever you need to. I’m here for you.” Natasha’s message appeared almost instantly, and Lyndon felt the warmth of her words wrapping around him like a shield.

With a deep breath, he finally let the words spill out.

“I can control shadows.”

He paused, then added quickly, “I know it sounds weird, but when I was younger, I just... I could make them move. At first, I didn’t know what was happening. I thought I was just imagining it. But the more I focused, the more I realized that I could actually bend them, make them shift in ways that didn’t seem possible.”

Lyndon ran a hand through his hair, suddenly self-conscious. He wasn’t sure why he was telling Natasha this, but the thought of someone knowing, someone understanding, made it easier to say.

“I don’t use it much. I mean, who would understand that? Who would look at me and not think I’m crazy? I keep it hidden, because... well, if anyone knew, I’d probably be sent off to some lab or something. And I don’t want that. I don’t want to be that freak who has to hide in the shadows forever.”

His heart raced as his finger hovered over the send button, almost convinced that revealing this part of himself might be too much. But then, Natasha’s reply came.

“Lyndon, you’re not a freak. You’re unique. Your power isn’t something to be ashamed of. It’s part of who you are, and it doesn’t make you less of a person.”

He read her message twice, then a third time, as if trying to absorb her words. His throat tightened with emotion, a lump forming as he realized that Natasha wasn’t just saying things to make him feel better—she was speaking from a place of understanding, of empathy.

“I know it’s hard to accept parts of yourself that others might not get. But I want you to remember this—there are people out there who will understand, who won’t judge you for being who you are.”

The words were simple, but they carried the weight of everything he had been too afraid to say out loud. Lyndon couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips. Natasha’s words were the kind of comfort he hadn’t realized he needed. For so long, he had felt isolated, like the world around him was too big and too cold to understand what he was going through. But Natasha... Natasha was different.

“Thanks, Natasha. I feel a little better now. Maybe I’ll try using it more, if I can figure out how to control it.”

He paused, then sent one more message.

“Do you think... do you think there are other people like me? People with powers? Or am I just weird?”

The response came after a brief delay. Natasha wasn’t the type to give empty reassurances, and he could feel her thoughtfulness in her reply.

“There are many people out there, Lyndon. Some with powers, some with abilities they don’t even understand yet. You’re not alone in this, even if it feels that way. And remember, sometimes the most unexpected abilities are the ones that make the biggest difference.”

Her words made him feel lighter, as though a part of the weight he had carried for years had been lifted. Maybe there were others like him out there. Maybe he wasn’t the only one.

For the first time in a long time, Lyndon didn’t feel like his powers were something to fear. They were a part of him, something that made him who he was—just like his love of music, just like his struggle to fit in, just like the way he was trying to find his place in the world.

“I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks, Natasha. I really appreciate it.”

Her reply was simple, but it felt like the final piece of reassurance he needed.

“Anytime. You’re not alone, Lyndon.”

As he set his phone down, Lyndon looked at his guitar once more, then glanced at the shadows in the corner of his room. He didn’t have all the answers, and he didn’t know what the future would hold. But tonight, he felt something he hadn’t in a long time—a sense of peace, however fleeting.

For the first time in a long time, he wasn’t scared of what he could do. Instead, he was learning to embrace it. And with Natasha’s support, maybe—just maybe—he could start to figure out who he was meant to be.