The stars were already out by the time they reached Cal’s place—a cozy, single-story house tucked between overgrown hedges and a flickering porch light. It was the kind of house where the front door never really locked right, and the couch had permanent dents from years of movie nights and half-eaten pizza boxes.

  As they stepped inside, Kit tossed his jacket onto the couch and looked at Leo, a grin tugging at his lips. “So, what’d you get?”

  Leo sank into the corner of the worn sectional, stretching out his legs. He cracked open the soda Cal handed him and took a long sip before answering. “Fox. Not sure what that means yet, though.”

  Cal flopped onto the armrest. “Lucky. I got otter. Can’t wait to swim circles around you guys.”

  Kit snorted. “Yeah, ‘cause I need a swimming contest to make me feel better about being a ground squirrel.”

  Leo chuckled. “Hey, squirrels are fast. And you can probably dig tunnels to avoid all of Cal’s water-related nonsense.”

  Kit grinned. “I’m counting on it. If my reflexes are faster, I’ll be dodging you two in no time.”

  They all shared a small laugh, the last thread of normalcy before everything changed. But there was a flicker of unease beneath the joking.

  “So, what about you, Leo?” Kit asked, leaning forward. “You feel anything... different?”

  Leo hesitated. “I mean... just kind of nervous about the whole thing. I keep thinking I’ll wake up and be... weird. Like, will I be all red and fluffy? Or... act like a fox without realizing it?”

  Cal rolled his eyes. “You’re already sneaky enough, man. You’ll fit the fox thing perfectly.”

  Leo smirked. “Yeah, but what if I end up with fox ears and a tail? That’d be... a lot.”

  “Come on,” Kit said, laughing. “It could be worse. You could get bug legs.”

  Leo leaned back, relieved by the distraction. “At least I’ll be able to see again. That’s the important part.”

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  They fell into a brief, comfortable silence, the weight of their upcoming transformations hanging between them.

  “I still can’t believe they’re going to stick us in a vat,” Cal said suddenly, flopping onto the armrest. “Like—‘Hey, welcome to school, now take a personality quiz and get dunked in nanogoop.’ Totally normal.”

  Leo gave a dry chuckle. “And then wake up with tails, claws, wings… who knows.”

  “You think it’s worth it?” Kit asked. His voice was quieter than usual. “Like, really worth it?”

  They were quiet for a moment. Somewhere outside, a cricket chirped, filling the gap.

  Leo leaned back, fingers trailing along the frayed seam of a couch cushion. “If they can fix me—if I can see again—it is.”

  “Then we’re doing it,” Cal said without hesitation. “We go in, we come out—still us. Better versions of us, maybe. But still us.”

  Kit didn’t say anything for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah. Still us.”

  Cal leaned forward and tossed Leo a pillow. “And if you end up with bug legs or something, I’m calling you Spider-Leo forever.”

  Leo laughed. It felt good. Real. Warm, even.

  The TV played some cheesy sci-fi flick in the background, its flickering lights casting strange shadows on the walls. But no one was really watching.

  Cal sat cross-legged on the floor, digging through a bowl of popcorn with one hand and occasionally chucking pieces at Kit, who kept trying to dodge them from his beanbag throne.

  “You’re gonna regret that when I get claws,” Kit warned, laughing as another kernel bounced off his shoulder.

  Leo lay back on the couch, eyes closed, soaking in the noise and the comfort of being together. “You don’t even know where the claws are gonna show up,” he said, smirking. “For all you know, they’ll be on your feet.”

  “I’ll take it,” Kit said. “Ground squirrel DNA, man. That’s like... tunnels and trees and whatever else ground squirrels do. Probably means I’ll get good at digging. Maybe faster reflexes too.”

  “Or a tail,” Cal added, grinning. “You could have a big ol’ poofy tail.”

  Kit didn’t look mad about that possibility. “Better than webbed hands.”

  “Hey!” Cal pointed at him dramatically. “Otters are cool. I’ll be the fastest swimmer in the school. That counts for something.”

  Leo chuckled. “It’s just weird knowing what animal you’re getting... but not what parts. I keep thinking about the word ‘fox’ and wondering if that means I’ll end up red and fluffy or just start acting sneaky without realizing it.”

  Kit tossed a piece of popcorn at him. “You already act sneaky.”

  Cal snorted. “You are gonna smell weird. Mark my words.”

  Leo smiled faintly. “I’m mostly just thinking about the eyes. If the procedure really works... I’ll finally see again.”

  The room quieted at that. Kit glanced toward him, tone softening. “You’re gonna be okay, Leo. Whatever they do... we’ll all be in this together.”

  Cal nodded. “Mutant freaks, side by side.”

  They all laughed again, but it was quieter this time—like they were laughing to fill the space that nerves threatened to take over. Outside, the wind tapped softly against the windowpane. Inside, the boys sat together in the flickering glow, the last night of their normal lives fading gently into memory.

  Later that night, as they all settled into sleeping bags on Cal’s bedroom floor, the room was quiet except for the occasional rustle of blankets and Cal’s soft snoring.

  Leo lay on his back, staring into the dark with eyes that couldn’t see, but mind racing.

  “You guys still awake?” he whispered.

  A soft grunt from Kit. “Yeah.”

  “Same,” Cal mumbled.

  Leo hesitated, then said, “Thanks. For doing this with me.”

  Kit rolled over, his voice low but firm. “Wouldn’t let you go through it alone.”

  “Not a chance,” Cal added, already halfway back to sleep. “Mutants stick together.”

  Leo smiled, the warmth of their friendship stronger than any fear.

  “Yeah,” he said softly. “Together.”

  And then, silence.

  The last night of who they were faded into dreams of who they’d become.