^+Finn Wolfhard<RU!>

Golden light from lamps entwined with garlands of fresh white roses streamed across the greenhouse. Thousands of flowers—peonies and orchids—dangled in clusters from the glass ceilings. The school ball at the botanical garden should have been an event, but for Noah Schnapp, it turned into a test.

He stood by a column entwined with ivy, fiddling with the hem of his blue, white, and white shirt—the only thing he wore that made him feel like himself.

Around him, couples waltzed, laughed, and drank fizzy drinks from crystal glasses.

And he... he seemed to see something that they did not see.

Noah's green eyes—the color of moss after rain, the color of bottle glass in the sun—widened.

A shadow flickered behind the boxwood hedge.

Long-eared.

With a watch.

With a vest.

“No,” he told himself in his mind. “Mother is right. I have too much imagination. This is just… damn. Pure madness.”

Shyness clearly warred with curiosity.

Curiosity won out.

He ran.

Past the cries of, "Noah, where are you going? Slow dance right now!" Past her friends trying to grab her sleeve.

Through rose bushes scratching cheeks. Through flowerbeds of peonies crushing their velvety heads. An old tree—an oak, so ancient that it seemed as old as the garden itself—spread its roots.

There, between the two protruding from the ground of snags, a black hole was visible.

The rabbit dived inside.

Noah froze for a second. The smell of wet earth and something sweet - vanilla? Almonds? — hit my nostrils hard. Behind me, I could hear my classmates' voices. Ahead, there was silence.

And he dived after it.

The sliding... seemed to be endless.

Noah didn't seem to fall - he floated through a space where gravity has lost its meaning.