The chime of the bell marked Jackson's exit. The door closed behind him with a heavy sigh, as if the air itself still held the shape of his hesitation.
I stayed frozen for a few seconds, my fingers clenched around the back of the chair, still warm from where he had been sitting.
I drew in a long breath, trying to steady myself.
But I still felt it.
That stare.
That weight.
The stranger hadn't moved.
Sitting there, arms crossed, his shirt slightly open, revealing a faint slash of skin, he looked like he had become part of the scenery—yet somehow distorted everything around him.
Customers talked, laughed, placed their orders… but he existed in a separate, silent bubble.
And I was trapped inside it.
I retreated behind the counter, grabbing a cloth and wiping a table that was already spotless. My hands wanted to appear confident, but every time I dared to glance up, I met his dark, unreadable eyes.
Not insistent, not evasive—just fixed on me, as if he were waiting.
Anxiety and curiosity tangled inside my stomach until the pressure became unbearable.
I let the cloth fall and walked toward him.
"Listen…" I said, my voice coming out firmer than I expected. "If you want something, you have to say it."
He lifted his eyes to mine. A flicker of surprise—almost amusement—crossed his face. His lips curved into a small, enigmatic smile. Not mocking, but not warm either.
"What I want?" he echoed, his voice deep and soft at the same time, like a caress lined with thorns.
He tilted his head, studying me with slow, calculated ease.
"It's not what you think. I'm not here for coffee."
I frowned, thrown off balance.
"Then for what?"
He didn't answer right away.
His gaze locked onto mine, searching for something hidden deep inside me, something even I didn't understand.
Then he spoke—so quietly I almost thought I imagined it:
"I came for you."
My heart stumbled.
Before I could respond, the bell chimed again.
"Avery!"
Claire's voice cut through the air—bright, cheerful, almost too light after the heaviness of the moment. She walked into the café with Calvin behind her. As always, he carried his presence effortlessly: tall, blond, that permanent too-bright smile stuck to his face like sunlight that didn't know when to dim.
I turned toward them, shaken, and when I looked back at the stranger…
he was gone.
The empty chair.
The still-full cup.
No trace of him remaining.
Except—
My eyes caught a metallic glint on the table.
A small key. Thin, worn, with a strange symbol carved into the end. A circle crossed by a jagged line.
My breath hitched. I knew that sign.
I didn't know how.
Or why.
But a forgotten echo rippled down my spine.
"Hey, you with us?" Calvin asked, stepping closer.
I slipped the key into my pocket before either of them could notice.
A forced smile pulled at my lips.
"Yeah, yeah. Sorry, I was… lost in thought."
Claire placed a friendly hand on my arm.
"That never changes. Always off in your own world."
I gave a small, tense laugh.
"So, uh… you guys want something to drink?"
The conversation drifted toward harmless topics.
Calvin talked about basketball practice, Claire launched into a funny story about class.
I nodded, laughed sometimes, the motions automatic—while my mind pressed against the weight of the key in my pocket. My fingers curled around it under the table, terrified it might vanish if I let go.
Still, something felt off with them too. Claire avoided mentioning anything about last night, like she already anticipated I'd dodge the topic.
And Calvin—he seemed almost too gentle, too careful, as if trying to make me feel safe without crowding me.
And despite the tension knotting my stomach, I eventually relaxed.
Just a little.
For a moment, the stranger's presence faded.
---
🌑 Meanwhile, somewhere else in Raven's Shade…
In a narrow alley, the weight returned.
The sun was sinking, staining the brick walls with a reddish glow. A lone figure moved through the shadows, drifting more than walking, his steps soundless on the pavement.
He wasn't alone.
Behind him, footsteps.
Heavier. Faster.
The ragged breath of someone chasing him.
When they were finally isolated, the stranger stopped.
Turned.
His dark eyes glinted gold for a fraction of a second.
His hand slipped into his pocket as he waited for the other to approach.
"Took you long enough."
The second man emerged from the darkness, his pace measured. His face unreadable, his voice steady:
"I'll remind you I'm not like you."
A faint smile tugged at the stranger's lips—calm, unsettling, the kind of calm that swallowed threats whole.
"So… you really came back," the man said.
A thick silence fell.
Then, slowly, the stranger stepped forward, each footfall echoing like a warning.
"I'm not the only one, it seems."
The clash felt inevitable.
But what simmered between them wasn't simple hostility.
It was older.
Deeper.
Something buried that had clawed its way back to the surface.
The tension snapped in an instant.
Their breaths collided in the heavy alley air.
The stranger moved first—faster, sharper. He sidestepped, grabbed the other by the collar, and slammed him hard against the brick wall. Dust trembled in the fading light.
"You've gotten slow," he murmured, his cold breath skimming the man's ear. "Is it age catching up with you?"
A groan escaped his opponent, but despite the unforgiving grip crushing him, a smirk lifted the corners of his mouth.
"I'm still impressive for my age. For a human going up against you, I'd say I'm doing pretty well."
A suspended silence.
Then the stranger loosened his hold slightly, amused.
"Fair point… old friend."
He released him suddenly.
The man dropped to the ground, gasping, hands braced on his knees.
Even through the ache, his eyes shone with a spark of humor.
"You haven't changed," he muttered, shaking his head. "Still no restraint."
The stranger crossed his arms, a shadow of satisfaction flickering in his gaze.
"Come on. Get up."
He extended a hand—steady, firm.
After a moment, the man took it. Their grip closed, heavy with shared history.
A genuine, almost nostalgic smile rose on the man's face.
"It's been a long time, Gabe."
A sharp light flashed in the stranger's steel-gray eyes.
Gabe.
The name lingered in the alley, thick with unspoken stories.
---