The two friends dropped their bags, switched on a small battery-powered radio left behind, and settled on the balcony—beers in hand.
A soft crackle hummed through the speakers, voices from the news fading into background noise before giving way to gentle music.
They talked. Laughed. Shared memories of high school, past loves, friends who had drifted away.
For a brief moment, the atmosphere lightened—suspended in a bubble far from the chaos.
—Remember when I set the cafeteria on fire with the microwave? Thomas asked, grinning.
—Wasn’t it because you put a fork in it? Léo replied.
—Yeah, but I thought it’d just spark a bit. I didn’t expect an explosion.
—And I got detention with you because I was "always hanging out in your group."
They both burst out laughing. Thomas popped open another beer.
—Honestly, you were patient with me... I was a magnet for trouble.
—You still are, but at least now you’ve got a driver’s license.
More laughter echoed across the balcony.
Then came a comfortable silence, the kind only old friends could share—until Léo spoke again, his tone more reflective.
—Do you remember Julie? The girl from biology class...
—Oh damn, the fireworks incident, Thomas teased.
—I was crazy about her. Invited her to watch the end-of-year fireworks. It was like a movie in my head.
The next day, she told me she already had a boyfriend and thought it was just a friendly hangout.
Thomas exploded with laughter.
—Man, I felt bad for you, but it was too ridiculous. I dragged you out for a kebab after—to salvage what was left of your dignity.
Léo smiled.
—Yeah… That 2 AM kebab was the real romantic moment of the night.
They kept exchanging stories, pausing only to sip their beers.
—Remember when we showed up to our exams completely soaked? Thomas said.
Léo laughed.
—Oh yeah, the day you tried to jump over the fountain to show off—and slipped like a bar of soap?
—I swore I wouldn’t pass Building B without making a statement.
And I did… flat on my back.
—And I had to sit through the whole exam in a drenched tracksuit because I tried to help you.
—Heroes in solidarity. Soaked, but with dignity.
A song came through the radio—a forgotten tune from a failed party long ago.
—And that time I almost got expelled because of your prank with the fake email from the principal? Léo added.
—It was a joke! Thomas defended, smiling. How was I supposed to know the teacher would believe it and escalate it to the school board?
—Yeah, but when my mom got called in, you told her it was our mistake—not just yours.
You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
—Details, Thomas shrugged.
Léo gave him a long look… then they both laughed again, softer this time.
The air had taken on that rare, warm feeling of summer nights—almost forgotten.
A gentle breeze stirred the half-open curtains.
The rain had stopped long ago, and an odd sensation settled in—as if the world around them had blurred at the edges.
A quiet walk through memories, where time seemed to pause.
Léo leaned against the balcony railing, eyes lost in the city lights below.
—It’s off-topic, but... you know, I often feel like I’m never really there, he murmured.
Like a guy watching life pass by through a window—a spectator.
I understand things… feelings, rules, all that. I get them… but I don’t feel them.
I see their value, but it doesn’t reach me.
It’s like I’m unplugged somewhere—untouched. Not involved.
Thomas turned to him, thoughtful. No teasing this time.
—I don’t know, man... maybe it’s because you’ve only ever been shown what life looks like, but never really got your hands dirty.
I’m not saying that’s for sure, but it could explain why you feel like you’re always on the outside.
It’s hard to feel something you’ve never actually gone through.
Not a criticism—it’s just... how it is.
He took a sip and set his bottle on the railing.
—Compassion without experience is often just theory. Or well-meaning bullshit.
Léo let out a quiet, relieved smile.
—Yeah... I think you’re right.
—Obviouslyé, Thomas smirked.
They both looked up at the sky.
Slowly, the clouds had drifted away, as if pushed by some discreet will.
Despite the city lights, stars began to appear—sharp and clear, as if the night itself was making an effort to reveal them.
The full moon, pale and heavy, cast its glow over Lyon’s wet rooftops.
Every gutter, every balcony shimmered with silver light.
There was something fragile, something tender in that unexpected calm.
The cathedral of Fourvière stood veiled in white tonight.
After a while, Thomas headed back inside, making his way to the fridge for two fresh beers.
Léo stayed outside, elbows on the railing, gaze lost among the stars—barely noticing his friend’s absence.
In the room, Thomas placed the bottles on the coffee table.
He grabbed the remote and turned on the TV, hoping to catch a news update about the afternoon’s incident.
But it wasn’t a regular broadcast.
It was the president—live.
His tone was grave. His eyes tense.
"My dear compatriots,
The epidemic we face today is unprecedented. The origin of the virus, which we will refer to as MycoNeuro—discovered by Dr. émile Lavoisier—remains unknown. Our scientific teams, in coordination with international health authorities, are working tirelessly to understand the nature of this threat.
In just a few days, cases have multiplied exponentially. What we believed to be contained in isolated clusters has spread at a pace our services did not anticipate.
Tonight, I must speak the truth: Germany has now declared multiple outbreaks. This is no longer a French issue—but a European one. Tomorrow, it will be global."
Thomas raised an eyebrow, intrigued.
—Léo, come see this.
—Give me a sec, came Léo’s voice from outside.
—No, seriously. Come.
Léo sighed and stepped inside slowly.
Both stared at the screen.
"As a result, I have decided, along with the government, to enforce an immediate lockdown across the entire country.
This lockdown will be of indefinite duration, though we hope it will be brief. During this period, no movement will be allowed. State-appointed teams will distribute food, medicine, and essential supplies—including books to help everyone endure this challenge.
Any unauthorized outing will be considered a serious breach of public order—and dealt with accordingly by security forces.
I trust in your composure, your solidarity, and our collective strength to face this ordeal.
Together, we will endure."
Silence filled the room.
Thomas and Léo stood there, beers in hand, frozen.
The contrast was almost absurd—two guys, stuck in a half-finished hotel, forgotten by the world.
They both knew no government agent would deliver anything here.
A quiet chuckle escaped Thomas.
Léo gave a faint smirk.
—Well... looks like we’re locked down on a construction site. Nice.
—Yeah... at least we’ve got beer.
They stayed there for a while, eyes fixed on the now-black screen.
Outside, the city slept beneath a cold moon, despite the soft warmth lingering in the air.
Nothing seemed different—and yet, everything had shifted.
The beer had lost its taste, but the moment hung in suspension.
The silence wasn’t quite heavy, nor peaceful—more like a breath between heartbeats.
A shared pause before a single word could shatter the balance.
A fragile instant, standing on the edge between storm… and calm.
Léo stood first, slipping on his jacket without a word.
He stopped by the window.
Thomas joined him, both gazing out over Lyon—vast and quiet.
—So... we improvise? Thomas asked.
Léo nodded.
—As always.
The night said nothing.
It simply wrapped around them.
But for now—were still here.