My mind traced back to me, leaving those threads of Rhys behind. The rain started the way old love songs would start, soft, almost hesitant, like the sky was unsure if it wanted to remember,
Even though people told me heartbreak doesn't follow me into college, it does haunt my laughter during 8 a.m. lectures and sits beside me in crowded cafeterias, but somehow his name still echoed louder than the professor's voice when it rained.
I pulled myself out of his memories moments ago, the sky over campus smeared in dull greys, my coffee turned cold, I glanced at my phone, I looked at the screen intently for a moment, deepdown I hate to admit that I kept my savings on this brand new hand me down mobile just because his words sliced down upon me everytime I looked at those nostalgic keybuttons of my keypad.
My playlist was still stuck on the song he once made fun of, and then, without warning, the sky tore apart, so did my heart, rain falling not in drops but in a desperate downpour, drenching me down, but I did not care. I let it soak, wash, and wipe me away.
Fate plays twisted games, and with it came the mist, heavy and rolling, swallowing the lampposts, the cobbled paths, the wide lawn where students once lounged under the sun.
Wind crackled behind me, footsteps calculative and silent approached me, my ears perked up, and I stood with basic instinct just to see who it could be, through the fog and mist that started covering this entire pathway.
Everything started to spin, frozen, breath fogging, my heart suddenly skidding into that space between memory and hallucination, because through the thick curtain of white, something felt not right, not a sound, not a step, just a presence, unfamiliar.
Then, just there, framed by the dense fog and the dim golden spill of the streetlight, a pair of Amber eyes, steady, glowing faintly like coals beneath frost.
My heart seized in panic, because it wasn't the kind of amber you'd see in a majestic tiger but a kind that is associated with something dark.
My feet fumbled, I moved a little backwards, unable to process, my lips parted, and a low gasp flew in the mist.
I blinked twice just to register, but as if nothing had happened. That pair of eyes disappeared into thin air. Nothing left but the shivering leaves, the echo of my heartbeat, and the impossible fact that someone—or something—had been looking at me with those unforgettable Amber hue.
I walked like I didn't belong to myself anymore. My legs moved out of habit, not choice, carrying me through the oily dusk of the city while my mind lagged, still clawing for understanding. Everything around me blurred—headlights, neon signs, voices shouting in the distance. They weren't real to me. Not compared to what I'd just seen.
I let that feeling slip under my sleeves, but that notorious, intensely plastered Amber hue did not let me.
I just kept walking, past the same cracked sidewalks I'd trudged a thousand times, past that dented mailbox with the sticker that read "God Sees All" in faded ink. Maybe he did.
I no longer believe in him; I've lost the energy to believe in him. It's not like blaming him for everything that's happening, it's I don't feel like it anymore, pathetic, right?
The alley that led to my building reeked of old metal, same as always. The one-eyed cat perched on the dumpster hissed at me as I passed, like it knew. I didn't even flinch. I was too far inside my head to care.
And then it was gone.
I reached my door—the one with the brass numbers barely clinging to the peeling paint. My hand trembled as I fished for the keys. I dropped them once. Maybe twice. The click of metal finally sliding into the lock sounded deafening.
The door groaned shut behind me like even it was disappointed I'd come back. The only thing that was left to me after my parents decided to part ways. The eviction notices looked at me like they would smother me.
My heart ached for them, and my heartbreak cost me my life. Raven High was a mistake, they screamed at me in disdain.
I didn't sit. I couldn't. The place felt different now. Not in a way I could explain. Just… wrong. Like I was walking into a version of my life with all the edges slightly rearranged.
I hovered in the middle of the room, my coat still wrapped around me like armor. Everything looked the same, the couch slouched in the corner, the flickering ceiling bulb struggling to stay alive, the little kitchen with its leaky faucet and ancient fridge humming like it was tired of existing. But it all felt off, like it was pretending. Like the walls were holding their breath, waiting for me to notice the cracks.
I dropped my bag on the counter. It landed with a dull, echoing thud that made my skin crawl.
I opened the fridge out of habit. Half a carton of almond milk. A lonely egg. Something in a container I didn't want to identify. I closed it again without taking anything. My stomach wasn't hungry; it was twisted up in knots, a tangled mess of nerves and questions.
At this rate, I'd be homeless.
A loser, a lovesick loser. A sick loner.
When I finally sat on the edge of the couch, it sagged beneath me like it, too, was tired of pretending. I leaned forward, elbows on knees, hands gripping my hair. My heart had slowed, sure, but my brain hadn't. I couldn't stop replaying it.
My mind, out of all those memories from Raven High, shifted somewhere... they shifted to those pair of eyes. Like it was more important than the laundry I had to do, or maybe the faucet I had to fix before this feels like a total dumpster, where that one-eyed cat would rest.
The wind howled outside, and the window shuddered. I jumped. Stupid. It was just the weather. Just the city reminding me it was still there.
But I couldn't shake the feeling that I wasn't alone. Not anymore.As if my life hasn't had enough mayhem. This unsettling feeling is crossing over to me.
I curled into myself on the couch, pulling my knees to my chest. And even in my crappy little apartment—with its humming fridge and flickering lights and peeling walls—I didn't feel like I was home.
With just a little amount of energy I had, I sat upright, my shoulders hunched, I tapped on the worn-out keys of my laptop, which I brought with the funds back then, when days were happy, I checked twice when someone accepted me.
No one, not even a single soul out of 60 losers.
And yet I felt like a loser calling others that.
If it goes, I might end up losing that one good thing Raven High ever did to me. Getting me admission into one of the universities this was my last call. If I don't pay now. Then this would slip, too.
I might end up not going to college, and I won't be able to do anything. I might end up being a real loser.
Just like Rhys would want me to.
I woke up with that kind of jolt you get when you dream of falling—only I hadn't been dreaming. The room was quiet. Too quiet.
I lay there in the half-dark, blinking up at the ceiling, my body tense without knowing why. The streetlight outside cast its usual crooked shadow across the wall. Everything looked normal. Familiar.
But it didn't feel normal.
I turned onto my side slowly, listening. There was nothing. Still… the hairs on my arms were standing up. As if someone was here breathing through me. I sat up, my quilt pooling around my waist, and looked around. The door to the living room was cracked open.
I couldn't remember if I'd closed it before falling asleep or not. Probably not. I thought I hadn't. But the longer I stared at that narrow slice of darkness beyond it, the more I couldn't be sure.
I got up quietly, bare feet making no sound on the cold floor, and I went to my kitchen.
I glanced at the counter. My mug, the one I always left in the sink, was on the other side. Clean. Dry. Set down like it had been moved with care.
I froze.
I hadn't washed it. I remembered that. I'd been too tired. I stood there for a full minute, not moving. Just listening to the sound of my breathing and the distant rumble of the city below.
Then I laughed, quietly, under my breath. Nervous and sharp.
"Okay," I whispered to myself. "Maybe I washed it and forgot. Or maybe I'm just... tired. That's all."
I walked over to that window pane, which could break any moment, when I saw it slightly open ajar, and closed it properly, and tried not to think too much about it.
I got back in bed and stared at the ceiling again, blanket pulled up to my chin. It's nothing, I told myself.
Just nerves.
Just my mind playing tricks on me after what I saw.
Still, I left the lamp on.
And I didn't fall asleep for a very, very long time.