dinohigh, no humans allowed!

Prometheus sat on the edge of the hotel bed, staring at the empty space across from him. The television was off. The world outside felt muffled, like it belonged to someone else. His white coat was draped over the back of a chair, barely moving with the faintest hint of air conditioning. He hadn't worn it in days. His reflection caught in the mirror—blue eyes sunken, pale skin almost translucent in the dim light. The bags under his eyes were dark, deep purple stains from sleepless nights. He hadn't rested properly since the fight.

His phone was on the nightstand, screen face down, a reminder of the messages he had stopped checking. The silence between him and the girls was deafening. But even as the memories flooded in, he couldn't shake the feeling that something had been broken long before their shouting match. Something had cracked, maybe years ago.

Memory 1: Childhood—dont think about it.

The first memory always brought warmth, despite everything. Beatrice—her rough Triceratops features softened by the innocence of youth—stood beside him in a park, her wide smile lighting up the day. Prometheus, only seven at the time, was struggling with his bike. The other kids—Adelaide, Victoria, and the others—were playing in the background, their laughs blending into the sounds of summer.

"You're almost there!" Beatrice had cheered, pushing him gently from behind.

He'd believed her then. Her encouragement felt genuine. When he'd fallen and scraped his knee, she had rushed over, concerned, but only for a moment. The others had noticed too, crowding around him with a mix of concern and impatience.

"You're fine, stop being such a baby," Hariot had sneered, though her raptor smirk barely hid the sharpness behind her words.

Prometheus had laughed it off, pretending it didn't sting. It was just a joke, right? Kids were like that. Besides, they were his friends. They'd never mean to hurt him.

Here's the opening for the episode featuring Prometheus' painful realization and the slow unraveling of his relationships:

Memory 2: Adolescence—growing up the hard way.

It was his twelfth birthday, and his parents had rented out a massive hall for him. The whole class was there, but his focus was on them—Beatrice, Adelaide, Victoria, and the others. They'd dressed up, all in bright colors, Beatrice's brownish-orange dress contrasting with her Triceratops skin, Elizabeth towering above the others as always, her T-rex teeth visible when she smiled.

His father had made a big speech about friendship and loyalty, talking about how proud he was that Prometheus had built such strong bonds. But as the night wore on, Prometheus had noticed small things—Elizabeth snapping at him when he'd suggested a game, Adelaide and Victoria spending most of the night talking to each other instead of him, and Beatrice barely listening when he tried to talk to her about the trip they'd promised to take together.

But it was Beatrice's offhand comment that had stuck with him.

"Your parties are always so... much," she had said, giving him a tight-lipped smile as she glanced at the decorations. "You don't have to go all out every time."

It had felt like a punch. He had worked so hard to make sure everyone was happy, to make sure they all felt included. And in the end, it wasn't enough. They'd accepted the food, the gifts, but there was always a distance, a barrier he hadn't been able to cross. He had shoved the feeling down. It was just nerves, he had told himself.

Present—Sleepless Nights

Prometheus blinked, shaking off the memories. The hotel room was silent, but his mind buzzed with noise. He hadn't slept more than a few hours a night since the fight. Every time he closed his eyes, the memories came rushing back—every moment where he had given more than he should have, every time they had taken without asking.

He ran a hand through his blond hair, the once-sleek locks now a mess from days of neglect. His body ached with exhaustion, but he couldn't stop replaying the scenes in his head. The way Beatrice had looked at him during the fight—cold, distant, like he was nothing more than an annoyance. The way Hariot had laughed, not with him but at him, the way they all did, even when he wasn't in the room.

How had he missed it? How had he let them in, time after time?

The Fight—The Breaking Point

It was late. Prometheus hadn't wanted to meet them, but Beatrice had insisted. She always insisted.

They had gathered outside the school gates, the large, looming silhouette of Dino High behind them. The night was warm, but it did nothing to ease the tension that hung between them. Beatrice stood at the center, arms crossed, her tail flicking impatiently behind her. Adelaide and Victoria stood beside her, whispering to each other. Elizabeth was further back, towering as always, her eyes cold. Hariot leaned against the wall, smirking as if she already knew what was coming.

"Why are we even talking about this again?" Beatrice snapped, her voice hard, nothing like the kind friend from their childhood.

"You know why," Prometheus said, trying to keep his voice steady. His heart pounded in his chest. "I'm tired of being treated like—"

"Like what?" Beatrice cut him off. "We've done nothing but include you, Prometheus. You're the one acting like a child."

The words hit harder than he expected. He opened his mouth to argue, but the others jumped in. Hariot's voice was the sharpest.

"You think you're the victim here?" she said, laughing. "You've had everything handed to you. We're the ones who had to put up with you."

Put up with him? The words echoed in his mind. He hadn't expected it to feel like this—like every good memory, every shared moment, was being shattered in front of him.

"I... I thought we were friends," he said, his voice weak, pathetic even to his own ears.

Beatrice scoffed. "Friends? You've been nothing but a burden, Prometheus. Always needing something, always wanting to be the center of attention. We were just too nice to say it before."

That was it. That was the moment everything fell apart. The weight of years of denial crashed down on him. The looks, the comments, the small slights he had brushed off—they had all been real. They hadn't been jokes or misunderstandings. They had been cracks in the bridge he had worked so hard to build between them. And now, it was all falling into the abyss.

He stood there, staring at them, his heart hollow. "I see," he whispered.

None of them said anything as he turned and walked away.

Present—First Day at Dino High

Prometheus stood in front of the massive gates of Dino High, his white coat back on, though it felt heavier than ever. His bags hung under his eyes, his exhaustion weighing on him. The school loomed ahead, its ancient stone walls casting long shadows in the morning light.

He didn't want to be here. Every part of him screamed to turn around, to leave, to never set foot in this place again. But he couldn't. His father was inside, the reason he was even here at all. And somewhere, Beatrice, Adelaide, Victoria, Hariot, and the others were too.

They had taken everything from him—his time, his trust, his heart. He had let them.

Prometheus clenched his fists, feeling the sting of his nails digging into his palms. This time would be different. He wasn't going to be that naïve, hopeful kid anymore. He was done being the one who gave while they took.

As the gates creaked open, he stepped inside, the shadows swallowing him whole.