Tick, tock, tick, tock – the sound of the clock above the blackboard seemed to drill into her skull, as though collecting something personal from her. The girl didn't blink; she was sitting perfectly still at her desk with her eyes fixed on the second hand as it moved forward, ticking. She was no longer paying attention to the class; she hadn't been for a while.
She knew exactly how many minutes were left in the period, she always knew. And yet, when people started putting their things away, it caught her by surprise. The buzzing of backpacks being zipped began to sound, chairs being dragged back, and laughter spilling into the hallways as the real world returned to normal.
She got up slowly, putting her notebook in her backpack and sliding her pen into its usual loop. As she did it, she felt it again: that familiar and sharp sensation of being watched.
She glanced sideways to confirm her suspicions. From the other side of the classroom, a boy was staring at her fixedly. When their gazes met for barely a second, he smiled sarcastically and looked away.
"Did you see the way she looked at us?" he said, not bothering to lower his voice, he even seemed to be speaking loudly on purpose.
"She always does," replied the girl half-distracted checking her phone.
"Maybe she should just stay home if she's gonna drop dead any second."
"That's dark," the girl said, not even looking up.
"No, I'm being honest. It's weird, nobody knows what's wrong with her. She just looks... bad."
She didn't flinch or speak; she just kept walking towards the classroom door, gripping the strap of her backpack tighter with each step.
They always talked as if she weren't there. As if her illness had stripped her of her humanity, reducing her to a rumour, a warning or a curiosity to be whispered about behind cupped hands.
Of course, they would never say it to her face.
She kept her gaze fixed ahead as she walked through the corridors. She noticed her heart beating harder, not from fear, but from something else gnawing at her from within. It was a bitterness that she had always carried with her like a second skin.
She remembered hospitals, white walls and the scent of disinfectant in the air. She remembered machines that hummed, blinked and beeped as if doing something important; rooms full of soft-voiced doctors who avoided eye contact more and more each year.
No diagnosis or name ever appeared. Only vague suggestions and scribbled theories that changed with inconclusive test results. They talked as if they were close; as if they were trying. But she knew the look in their eyes when hope dried up, leaving only polite persistence.
Years passed, and she gave up before they did.
She had learned that whatever lived inside her, whatever gnawed at the edges of her strength, didn't want a name. It wasn't something they could cut out or cure, it was something else, and it wasn't going anywhere.
So she adapted. She didn't trust her body, and it didn't trust her. She stopped trying to be normal, stopped pretending she had time. There was no room for friends, no reason to let people get close, of course not when everything slipped through her fingers.
She shifted the weight of her backpack against her sore shoulder. Her chest contracted as she took a deep breath, but she didn't stop.
Suddenly, she was shaken to one side by an unexpected impact, startling her.
Her backpack slipped off her shoulder. Papers flew like feathers. She looked back, but the man who had hit her didn't stop; he just muttered, "Watch it" over his shoulder before disappearing into the crowd.
Her gaze fixed on the mess, she didn't get angry, she didn't care what happened to her anymore. She crouched down slowly to pick up the pages, her hands moving before her mind could process anything.
A sheet fluttered near the edge of the hallway. She reached out, but someone else got there first. A pale hand with long fingers was now holding her notes like they were something delicate. She looked up and froze.
It was him.
Yves Desaulniers. Everyone knew him. That stupidly perfect face, and his blonde layered hair that fell in waves. His eyes were dark blue and sharp, but somehow kind of soft, directed at her now.
"Seriously?" he said, shaking his head. "Some people are just born without manners, huh?"
His smile was wide when he said it, showing teeth that were slightly too large for his mouth.
He kept picking up her papers, his rings clinking softly as he moved. For someone who looked like he had never touched anything dirty in his life, he handled the mess surprisingly well.
She narrowed her eyes as she watched him. She knew exactly who he was; a popular guy, the kind everyone liked without question, and now for some reason she couldn't understand, he was here helping her. It didn't make sense… someone like him didn't help girls like her unless there was something in it for them, like a joke or a dare. Just another laugh to share with his friends.
And it wasn't the first time he'd tried. She'd noticed him before, he has made attempts to talk to her in the hallways, in class, little moments that went nowhere because she shut them down. Every single time. And he pissed her off.
"I didn't need help," she muttered.
"Well, I needed to help you," he responded, showing her another of those too-sincere smiles. "Keeps my hero stats up."
She stared at him and frowned. "You don't even know me."
"I know your name," he said, like it was obvious. "Juno. You're in one of my classes, you sit in the back, always reading ahead."
That surprised her.
He held out the last of her papers with a little flourish. "All rescued. No need to thank me, but I will accept compliments."
She had to tilt her head back to look at him, since he was tall, and used that without seeming to think about it.
She realized then, he was brave enough to get this close to her. It wasn't common for anyone to help or even less to try and make the minimal physical contact with her. And just as she was about to take the papers, Yves pulled them back, making her lean forward slightly to follow the movement, suddenly much closer to him than she'd intended.
He looked down at her, that maddening smile on his face, clearly pleased with himself. His eyes traced over her features in a way that made her uncomfortable, like he was memorizing every detail.
Her face twisted involuntarily, her nose scrunching, lips pulling back slightly. What is he even doing?
She pulled back immediately, putting distance between them.
His smile somehow got wider, like her obvious disgust was amusing rather than discouraging. His eyes practically sparkled.
"So," he said casually, "do you believe in fate?"
Juno blinked up at him, frowning. "What?"
He tilted his head slightly, pretending to think, and she noticed his hair was longer in the back, the ends darker where they'd been dyed. "Or maybe it's more like... cosmic timing. Your things fall, I appear. Clearly there's a higher force working here, don't you think?"
She narrowed her eyes. "Are you always like this?"
Yves placed a hand over his heart. "Like what?"
"Annoying."
"Ouch." He chuckled, unfazed. "Nah, I'm just in a good mood."
She crossed her arms. "And why's that?"
Yves leaned in a little. "Because I'm about to make your day much more interesting."
Juno arched a brow. "Can you just get to the point?"
He grinned wider. "Where's the fun in that?"
She didn't respond, just waited with her arms still crossed.. She really just wanted her papers so she could leave, but he was still holding them like some kind of bargaining chip.
Yves rocked back on his heels, clearly in no hurry to give them back. "Okay, fine, fine. If you must know…"
He made a dramatic pause.
"There's a party tonight," he said, like it had just occurred to him. "Birthday thing. Low-key. You should come."
An internal alarm went off in Juno, as if something unpredictable had just slipped into her carefully managed world. She simply stared back at him, tense under the stillness.
What did he actually want?
She blinked. "Why are you telling me this?"
"Hmm." He tapped his chin. "Good question. Why am I telling you this…"
He left the sentence hanging in the air, enjoying her withering look a little too much before finally shrugging. "Maybe I just thought you could use a night out. Or maybe I like inviting pretty girls to fun things. Hard to say, really."
Her face didn't change.
"You're joking," she said expressionlessly.
"No, totally serious. You could take a break, right?" Yves's voice was light, too bright. But there was no harshness in it, no sarcasm. "Come on," Yves persisted, giving her encouraging pats on the shoulder, "I'm sure you'll have a great time."
His hand was warm through her shirt, and she had to fight the instinct to shrug it off. She glanced down at her papers, still clutched in his other hand. He was really not going to give them back until she gave him an answer, was he?
She felt irritated, but wasn't sure which of all the suspicious things about him was the one that made her feel that way. But one thing she was sure of, he thinks she's stupid.
Juno narrowed her eyes. "No."
Yves froze, blinking. "Wait– what?"
"I said no." Juno snatched her papers from his hand, slung her backpack over her shoulder and turned around, walking away.
He stood frozen for a second, then hurried after her, his long legs catching up to her easily. "Hold on, what do you mean no?"
"I mean no, Yves," she said without looking at him. "I'm not going to your party."
His voice rose slightly. "You didn't even think about it!"
Now he was walking beside her, stumbling a little to keep up with her pace. "Do you… not like parties?"
"I don't like being a joke," She looked at him out of the corner of her eye, her voice colder than ever. "You must think I'm stupid. Is it a bet? A dare? Do you pick the sick girl and see if she actually shows up?"
"What?" His voice cracked slightly. "No– what? Are you serious?"
She just kept walking avoiding his gaze.
"I'm not like that," he said quickly. "I didn't ask you as a joke."
She turned around, finally, fixing him with a hard look. "You ask people like me to parties?"
Yves opened his mouth, then stopped. Because the truth was: no. He didn't, he didn't have to. People just... came to him, around him, he smiled and they followed. But not her… and that hit something strange in his chest.
"Seriously," he added, with a small helpless laugh, "you're the first person who has said no to me like that. Straight to my face."
"You'll get over it."
"I'm not sure if I will," he joked, but it lacked his usual smoothness. "Look, I didn't mean to give the impression that I was... playing with you. I just thought maybe you'd like to have some fun."
She stopped, so did he.
They stood in the middle of the hallway, somewhere between irritation and honesty.
She looked at him, and something in his face disarmed her. He didn't look like he was making fun of her. There was a small wrinkle between his eyebrows, and his lips had pressed together slightly, genuinely trying to understand. He looked like a kicked puppy, if she was honest.
It threw her off. She'd been waiting for the moment when he'd laugh and turn away, but it wasn't coming.
She wanted to keep saying no, to walk away and forget this conversation ever happened. But deep down she was tired of being the girl people whispered about, tired of watching life happen around her while she stood on the outside like a ghost. And here was someone asking her to step inside for once.
And he has tried before, multiple times. If this was a joke, wouldn't he have given up by now? Wouldn't he have laughed with his friends and moved on after the first rejection, the second?
Maybe it was a mistake. Probably it was. But something in her chest twisted at the thought of saying no again, of going home to another empty evening, of letting fear win one more time while she waited for the inevitable.
She looked away and sighed. If this was a joke then this would confirm it. "Fine, whatever, I'll go."
Yves froze. "Wait, seriously?"
She crossed her arms, not quite meeting his eyes. "Yeah, you don't have to look so surprised."
He smiled brightly. "No, no, I'm just, great! That's great. I'll, uh, I'll send you the details."
Juno sighed, still waiting for the punchline. "I'll give you my number then."
But he was already taking out his phone, touching it. "Nah, I have it."
She paused. "...Excuse me?"
Yves looked up. "Uhh student directory. From the research group mailing list last semester. Don't look at me like that, it's public information."
She frowned. "And you casually memorized it?"
He froze for half a second, barely, but she saw it, a crack in the charm. Then he recovered with half a shrug, sliding the phone back into his pocket.
"Something like that," he said lightly. "Maybe I just remember you."
Juno stared at him trying to decipher what could be wrong inside his head.
Yves showed that impossible smile again, shining as if he felt every part of her. "I'll see you tonight, Juno."
He turned around, already humming as he walked away as if he had just won the lottery.
"...Whatever," she sighed, and her voice had softened very slightly. Her hand tightened around her backpack strap as she started walking again, faster now.
Deep down, she knew the truth. She didn't belong at a party, that wasn't her life. It was for people with open futures and stable heartbeats. And she had already convinced herself that Yves was trying to make fun of her.
Still, as she walked home, she wondered what it would be like. To go, wear something half decent. Sit in a room full of voices, laughter and not feel like an intruder. What if for once she just pretended to be normal?
A cruel part inside her lit up at the idea. Just once, just to know how it felt, maybe it wouldn't even be that bad. Maybe she would laugh, someone would ask her to dance, and she would be allowed to forget about herself.
Stupid. She stopped at a corner, shaking her head. That was a stupid thought.
As she continued walking, the streets around her became quieter. The houses she passed flickered with blue light, televisions projecting their glow into the night. On every screen, headlines pulsed like silent alarms:
"Five dead in overnight attack, cause unknown"
"Witnesses describe 'demons' at scene of latest incident"
"Police urge public: stay indoors after dark"
The sound was muted, but the fear in the reporters' faces was unmistakable.
Juno stopped, watching a screen a moment too long. Then she looked away, a chill ran down her back. She pulled her coat around her and walked faster. Demons weren't real, supernatural things were just inventions, fake videos on the internet, stories to scare people.
She felt stupid just thinking about it, but she couldn't help thinking about her own body, her own strange condition, the failed diagnoses. What if it wasn't just illness? What if it was something else? Something that moved through her the same way those things supposedly moved through the city.
The thought made her stomach twist. Her feet hit the pavement harder. And that stupid flash of hope from before? Buried, where it belonged.
Lost in her thoughts, Juno turned down a quieter street and stopped. A movement caught her eye, there was a black cat crouched at the entrance to an alley, its fur shiny and eyes reflecting the orange glow of a distant streetlight.
It didn't move, just stared at her.
Something about the way it looked at her, it wasn't curiosity or fear, but more like... expectation. As if it had been waiting for her.
A breeze passed, lifting her hair slightly, the cat turned silently and slipped into the alley.
Juno frowned, standing there like an idiot, debating whether to follow a stray animal like some fairy tale cliche. But her feet moved anyway. She wasn't sure why. Maybe because something about this day felt wrong, too unsettling.
The alley narrowed as she walked, the cat always just out of reach, slipping through shadowed parts and flickering light. Once or twice, she thought it had disappeared, only to glimpse the edge of its tail turning another corner.
They passed closed doors, abandoned boxes, and Juno's breath caught in her throat as they turned a last corner and the cat stopped, perched on a ledge above a crumbling staircase that led down to the ground. This time, it didn't move.
She stood there, unsure what this even was. The cat blinked once, then slipped into the darkness without a sound. She was alone now. Just the darkness, just that growing, silent but relentless feeling that something was about to change. She shook her head, backing away from the stairs.
This is crazy, she thought. Following cats into alleys. What the hell are you doing?
Maybe her illness finally reached her brain and made her do stupid things.
She rubbed her arms, trying to chase away the cold that clung to her skin, but something made her look back one last time.
There, right where the cat had been sitting, lay a small and worn object. Cautiously, Juno approached, her boots scraping softly against the cracked concrete and crouched down.
It was a pocket watch, old. She picked it up briefly, turning it in her hand. The back was scratched, almost ruined, but she could barely make out a partial engraving:
"For J–"
Her fingers tensed.
She looked ahead, half expecting the cat to reappear, or find a clue where this object had come from. But the alley was silent, not a sound, no movement, just her and that watch, which felt too cold, as if it had been waiting there for a long time.
She looked back at it, and her hand tightened around the watch, thumb pressing against the engraving as if she could somehow reveal the rest of the letters through sheer will. Her first instinct was to keep it, but then something crawled up her spine, a sharp and wordless warning.
She put it back gently where she found it, the hands pointing downward ticking catching the light one last time. She backed away, her heart beating like a drum in her ears.
Her steps were uneven, as if she wasn't completely sure she was still in the same world she had woken up in that morning. Something had changed slightly, she could notice it inside her chest.
By the time she reached her apartment, the sun had fallen completely, leaving the sky in a deep navy blue stained with orange. She closed the door behind her and leaned against it for a long second, hoping the strange weight in her chest would lift.
It didn't.
The rest of the day passed in a haze. She made tea and forgot to drink it. She lay down on the couch but couldn't rest. Her fingers contracted as if they wanted to do something: text someone, reach out, fix whatever this was, but she didn't know where to start. It's not like she had anyone to talk to either.
The memory of Yves persisted. Too strange to be coincidence, too surreal to be dismissed. And underneath that... the question: What if it meant something? Something real, something about her. That thought refused to go away. And underneath all that, his words repeated in a loop in her head:
I'll send you the details.
She couldn't completely believe it was possible that someone actually cared about her. So she kept imagining the worst outcomes. What if she collapsed in front of everyone? What if someone made a cruel joke she couldn't laugh at?
Her phone vibrated.
A message from an unknown number:
hey, it's Yves
9pm. Big house on Alder Street. The one with the ugly fountain out front
bring an appetite. 😜
She blinked at the screen, her senseless anxiety growing as she considered what to respond. Before she could even decide, another message arrived.
also you're actually coming right
Juno stared at it, he was checking if she'd already decided to bail.
bc that wasn't a pity invite or whatever
just so we're clear
Her eyebrows rose. He's still trying to convince me. The fact that he felt the need to say it again made her more suspicious, not less, like he was overcompensating.
Another message:
oh and heads up people are gonna be dressed up
you should probably wear something nice
not that you have to obviously
but you'd probably look good
Juno's jaw tightened. There it is. He wanted her to dress up. Probably so the contrast would be more obvious when she showed up and everyone could see how out of place she looked.
I mean you'd look good anyway
that came out wrong
just dress however, your choice 😜
She stared at the screen. Was he... backtracking? This was definitely suspicious, why does he care what I wear?
She typed curtly:
I'll be there
I'm not wearing anything fancy though
The response came quickly.
that's cool
totally cool
see you at 9
She thought the messages would be over, but he sent more:
okay I'm being weird aren't I
sorry
just want you to actually show up
Juno blinked at her phone. There had to be something wrong with this guy… wether it was intentional or not. She didn't respond, just put the phone face-down on her bed.
A minute later, it buzzed again. She picked it up, frowning.
wait one more thing
what's your favorite color
She stared at the message. Another buzz:
need to know for reasons
important reasons
Juno's frown deepened. What?
ignore that
sorry
Despite herself, her lips twitched. Is he serious right now?
She didn't respond, but somehow that made her feel much more calm than before.
The minutes before the party felt like an eternity.
Juno stood in front of her mirror with her back straight, shoulders tense like she was preparing for battle, which she… kinda was. Her pale reflection blinked back at her, eyes shadowed by her illness, collarbones too pronounced under the neckline of her blouse. Her arms looked thin, fragile, she didn't like them.
She'd tried, despite telling herself she wouldn't. Ignoring that voice in her head screaming that trying would only make the inevitable humiliation worse.
Her fingers had trembled applying makeup. The dark circles under her eyes had taken twenty minutes alone, twenty minutes of careful layering, blending, adding more concealer, only to watch it somehow lift away with each additional touch. She'd tried patting it on gently, then pressing it in, then using her ring finger so she doesn't apply too much pressure, but the concealer kept sliding off or settling into the creases beneath her eyes.
By the end, her hands were shaking with frustration, her jaw clenched so tight it hurt. She'd almost cried, but managed to swallow it down because crying would only make it worse.
But then, somehow, on the last attempt, she made it work. It wasn't perfect, but... better. So much better than she'd expected.
Brown eyeliner softened her dark red eyes; a touch of blush brought life to her too-pale cheeks. Her hair, in a low and loose updo, framed her face in soft waves, the brown tips blending with the white. And the dark circles were barely visible now, just faint shadows if you looked closely.
For a moment, she almost looked... normal.
The black blouse hugged her delicately, maybe too much, showing how the fabric hung loose in places it shouldn't. The matching skirt stopped mid-thigh, and she could see how her legs looked thinner than they should be.
It was something she had bought months ago but had never had the courage to wear. Back when she still had hope that maybe one day, she'd fill it out properly. It wasn't fancy, definitely not what Yves probably meant.
She looked at herself and felt her stomach twist with embarrassment. This is stupid. She looked like she was trying, and that was somehow worse than not trying at all. Like she'd misunderstood the assignment and shown up in the wrong costume.
Yves probably expected... more. Someone who looked like they belonged at parties. Someone pretty, healthy, normal, whose clothes fit right because their body worked the way it was supposed to.
Not this, and definitely not her.
Her hand moved to her phone, ready to text him that she wasn't coming, that she'd changed her mind, that something had come up–
Her phone vibrated first.
you're still planning to come right?
She stared at it, fingers frozen. Her other hand moved up instinctively to press against her eyes, the stress bubbling up, but she stopped herself halfway, remembering the makeup she'd fought so hard to apply.
I know you probably are
but just in case
I really hope you do
I'm wearing my good shirt and everything
Good shirt. Like he was actually putting in effort for– For what? For her?
She pressed her palms carefully against her closed eyes anyway, careful not to smudge anything, just needing a moment to breathe through the nervous flutter in her chest. If this smudges after all that work I'm actually going to lose it.
When she pulled her hands away and looked at her reflection again, the makeup was still intact. The dark circles still mostly hidden.
Small victories.
She typed before she could overthink it:
Heading out now
Don't get your hopes up
The response was almost immediate.
too late
hopes are already up
way up
see you soon 😜
She let out a sharp breath, dangerously close to a laugh, and locked her phone.
"What an idiot," she muttered.
But she was almost smiling, just barely. Because the weird thing was... he just sounded like someone who genuinely wanted her there and had no idea how to say it without being a complete disaster.
Still, she lingered for a second longer, tilting her head, searching her own face in the mirror. Looking past the makeup, past the careful styling, to the girl underneath who was still too pale, too thin, too sick to belong anywhere.
Don't get used to this, she thought.
But she felt warm. There was a whisper of hope. She wasn't used to feeling it, and every time she did, life had a way of snatching it away from her.
She grabbed a small purse and a jacket, and opened the door to the cool evening air.
The world outside was changing toward night. A breeze gently pulled at the hem of her skirt as she walked and her boots sounded softly against the pavement.
The watch was still on her mind, probably still sitting where she had left it. She wasn't sure if it would still be there or if it had really been there at any point.
She didn't want to know.
Instead, she focused on the present. Each step forward felt like walking on a tightrope across the space between who she had been all her life and who she was pretending to be tonight.
For the first time in a long time, Juno wasn't walking to a hospital or running home to bed. She wasn't a patient tonight.
She was just... going to a party.
And though each step felt like a betrayal to the isolation she had built around herself, part of her didn't hate it.
Not for now, at least.
When she arrived at the house on Alder Street, music and laughter spilled from the windows. She hesitated on the front steps, her heart beating hard.
The door opened.
Light and sound burst out, but it wasn't the noise that hit her first.
It was him.
Yves stood framed in the doorway like a character taken from a dream, or from a too-arrogant fashion magazine. He wore a long black coat with fake fur collar, white shirt underneath, looking annoyingly perfect.
Juno blinked. "...What are you wearing?"
Yves burst into a wide smile. "Do you like it?"
She opened her mouth to retort, but then she saw the smile on his face. The way his eyes practically overflowed with excitement. It was impossible to maintain the sarcasm.
She sighed, giving him a sideways look while trying to hide the smile pulling at the corners of her lips. "Okay, fine. I admit it. It's... kind of cute."
Yves froze, raising his eyebrows. "Really?"
"Yeah," she continued a little softer than she intended. "It looks good. I can't deny it."
Yves beamed at her, the gesture spreading wider across his face. "Aha! Victory! I knew you had good taste."
She rolled her eyes, but a small part of her couldn't help feeling warm from his enthusiasm. "It's a bit extravagant, though," she added.
"I like making an impression," he said, shrugging as he stepped aside, extending his arm in a grand gesture toward the open entrance. "After you, mademoiselle."
Juno hesitated, then slipped past him into the warm glow of the party. Behind her, she heard him laugh softly.
"Come on," he murmured as she stopped at the threshold. "Let me show you off."
Juno blinked at him, taken by surprise. "Show me off?" she repeated, raising her eyebrows.
Yves shrugged, the mischievous gleam never leaving his eyes. "You look good tonight," he said with a dramatic gesture of his hand. "And I intend to make sure everyone knows it."
She opened her mouth to protest, but then thought better of it. She couldn't help the small, reluctant smile that tugged at her lips as she followed him inside. Despite herself, she was starting to feel a little more relaxed. Yves's confidence and complete self-assurance were strangely comforting in their own chaotic way.
The introductions blurred into one another: names, laughter and unknown faces. Juno nodded stiffly at each person, but her mind barely registered them. She could feel their curiosity; she could feel their eyes lingering on her a little longer than usual, as if they were trying to understand why Yves had brought her there of all people.
But he didn't seem to notice, or maybe he just didn't care.
At some point, the music changed to something lively, and the room's energy transformed. People shouted, dragging others to the dance floor. Juno instinctively stepped back.
"Oh no," she muttered.
"Come on!" Yves said, reaching for her hand.
"Yves, no." She tried to step back further, but he was faster. His fingers wrapped around her wrist firm enough that she couldn't easily pull away. His grip shifted slightly, adjusting, like he wasn't quite sure how tight to hold. She might have noticed if she wasn't so focused on escaping. "I don't dance."
"Now you do," he said, guiding her toward the center of the room.
She dug her heels in slightly, resisting. "Yves–"
"Just trust me," he said, glancing back at her with that confident smile that seemed to work on everyone else except her. His fingers tightened almost imperceptibly around her wrist. "One song."
The crowd seemed to part around them as they moved, or maybe that was just her imagination. She stumbled over her own feet, nearly colliding with someone, but Yves steadied her without breaking stride.
When they reached a spot with slightly more space, he spun her slightly, just enough to position them face to face.
She stumbled again, this time almost falling. "Okay, okay, maybe not like that," he said, laughing as he caught her.
She glared at him. "You think?"
He swallowed before answering, his smile softening into something less teasing. "Relax, just move a little. Nobody's judging you."
"That's a lie," she muttered, hyper-aware of the curious glances from the edges of the room.
Wait.
She blinked, actually looking around for the first time. The nearest group of people was at least six feet away. And beyond them, another gap. And another.
It was a circle. They'd made a circle around her. Around them.
Of course they had, they always did, she was used to it. But Yves was standing right there, and he didn't seem to notice. Or maybe he didn't care?
He leaned closer, lowering his voice. "Okay, fine. They're definitely judging you."
Her eyes snapped to his, like he'd just confirmed her worst fear. For a second, she looked genuinely hurt, like the little trust he was able to build with her suddenly collapsed.
"Wait– no–" Yves's smile dropped instantly. "I was joking. Juno, I'm kidding–"
But she'd already stepped back, pulling free from his hands and her breathing was a little faster.
"Hey." His voice softened, reaching for her hand again. "Nobody's judging you. I promise. I was just– That was stupid. I'm sorry."
She stared at the floor, clenching her jaw and pressing her lips together in thought.
"Look at me," Yves said quietly.
She didn't.
"Juno."
Reluctantly, she lifted her gaze.
His expression had shifted into something she couldn't quite read. "I don't care about anyone else here," he said, and there was an edge to his voice she hadn't heard before. He seemed frustrated now. "These people–" He stopped himself, his jaw tightening slightly as he glanced around. When he looked back at her, something in his expression softened. "You don't do that fake thing they all do. You know?"
He ran a hand through his hair, that nervous gesture again. "I just mean... you're not exhausting to be around."
Her worried expression shifted to a confused one. What the hell was he talking about? She'd spent her whole life being the person people avoided, the one they whispered about.
"Why did you invite me here?"
He looked at her for a moment, like the answer was obvious. "Because I wanted you here." He paused and looked away, his blue eyes darting nervously. She wasn't sure if his cheeks had gotten pink or if it was just the lightning. "With me."
Her heart skipped, but the confusion remained since that didn't really answer her question. Why was he like this? Why didn't he feel it, that thing that made people step back from her without realizing?
He was standing so close, closer than anyone had stood in years. And he looked... fine, normal. Like being near her didn't cost him anything, like he actually wanted to be here.
The thought escaped her comprehension.
She let him take her hand again. This time he didn't pull, he just held it. She took a small step closer, and his fingers laced through hers. His hand was warm against her cold one, almost like he wanted to warm her up.
"Okay," she whispered.
"Okay," he echoed, relief crossing his face.
The music shifted to something slower, and Juno found herself swaying a little.
His other hand found her waist, settling there carefully. He glanced down, suddenly uncertain, like he wasn't sure if this was okay. When he looked back up at her through his lashes, there was something almost shy in his expression.
His hands were warm, steady without being restrictive. There was no crawling sensation, no urgent need to escape. She didn't understand it. Didn't understand why he was different.
She should hate this, want to step back, put distance between them. Every instinct she'd honed over years of isolation screamed that letting someone this close would only hurt more when they inevitably left.
"See?" he said softly. "Not so bad."
Juno pressed her lips together and looked up at him. Something softer flickered in her expression, not trust yet, but close.
For a moment, the room faded. All of the things that disgusted her of society dissolved into background noise. It was just them, swaying slightly off-beat, her hand in his, his hand on her waist.
She became aware of small details. How his chest rose and fell with each breath. How his gaze was softer than she'd ever seen it, almost sweet. It still felt weird, like learning a language she'd never been taught. But it wasn't entirely... bad.
Her chest felt warm, but it wasn't the painful and suffocating kind her illness caused.
"You know," Yves murmured, "I had a feeling you'd clean up nice. But this?" He paused, and suddenly he was much closer, leaning in until she could see the exact shade of blue in his eyes. His fingers tightened around hers and his voice dropped to a whisper. "You look really pretty, Juno."
Her face went hot and she jerked back slightly, eyes widening. What the hell? His hand at her waist pulled her back gently but firm. His lips pressed together slightly, cheeks pink, like he couldn't quite believe he'd said that out loud.
He was lying, obviously. People didn't say things like that to her, not seriously, since pretty wasn't a word that fitted her, exactly.
"You don't have to–" she started, then stopped. She didn't finish. What was she even trying to say?
Yves tilted his head slightly, trying to catch her gaze, and a piece of his hair fell across his face. He was waiting, like he genuinely wanted to hear whatever half-formed thought she couldn't articulate.
She just shook her head, still not looking at him.
His smile widened, and it was soft and a little amazed, like he couldn't quite believe she was still here, still letting him hold her hand, still trying even though everything probably told her to run.
She caught it from the corner of her eye and immediately turned her head further away, focusing very intently on absolutely nothing. That somehow made her face even hotter, and she still didn't understand why he was like this.
But then, something moved at the edge of her vision.
At the far end of the room, near the dark hallway. There was the small black cat with violet eyes, watching her, waiting.
Her breath caught for a different reason now.
No.
No, no, no.
The warmth in her chest faded, replaced by an overwhelming sensation. A sharp and familiar pain ran through her ribs, like something was breaking inside her. She coughed once, twice, and her vision blurred for a moment. The air became suffocating, pressing on her lungs.
Yves caught the change immediately. His hands tightened on her waist, steadying her. "Juno? What's wrong?"
Juno staggered backward, breaking contact. The loss of his touch was immediate and disorienting, like stepping from solid ground into open air. She pressed a hand against her chest with trembling fingers, breathing unevenly. The cat didn't move, just kept staring at her.
It felt like the room was shrinking around her, and the edges of her vision were fading into a tunnel. She couldn't look away from those eyes.
"Juno?" Yves repeated, his tone urgent now. He reached for her again.
But Juno couldn't look away from the cat. She opened her mouth to speak, to say something, but her throat tightened and the words died there.
Tick, tock.
She could hear it.
The clock.
Tick, tock.
Louder.
Yves reached out instinctively, but Juno stepped back too quickly. She hadn't realized how close she was to the table and her hand crashed against something. Before she could process it, the birthday cake toppled over, splashing its contents across the floor with a horrible wet sound. A collective gasp filled the room, followed by a heavy silence that seemed to stretch forever.
Juno's stomach sank into a void. Every eye in the room turned toward her: some looking at her with shock, others with barely concealed annoyance, some people were laughing. The birthday girl's face twisted into an expression that was the perfect mixture of disbelief and disgust.
"Oh my God," someone whispered. "She just ruined the cake."
Juno's face flushed hot. Her hands clenched into fists and she tried so hard to keep her gaze away from everyone.
The room tilted slightly, or maybe that was just her. Her lungs constricted, each breath coming shorter than the last.
She realized this was it, this was the punchline. The moment she'd be waiting for all night. She was ready for it, or at least that's what she thought.
So she forced herself to look at Yves, bracing for the smile, the shared glance with his friends, the moment he'd finally drop the act and reveal this had all been an elaborate setup.
But when she looked at him, there was no amusement. Only confusion, worry etched across his features. His eyebrows were furrowed, as if he didn't know what had just happened but desperately wanted to understand, like he truly wanted to help her.
The birthday girl turned sharply toward Yves, reaching for his arm with a possessive familiarity. "I didn't even want her here. It was your stupid idea–"
But Yves wrinkled his nose and pulled away before her fingers could make contact, his eyes never leaving Juno's face.
Juno recognized it immediately. She'd done it a thousand times herself, that split-second flinch when someone reached for her without permission, when unwanted hands got too close.
He did it too.
And that destroyed her more than any laughter could. No. He destroyed her, the entirety of him.
Because he wasn't laughing, he was just looking at her, and his expression was full of something that looked almost like panic, like he was watching something precious shatter and didn't know how to stop it.
Juno felt something crack inside her chest, both physically and metaphorically. Her trembling hand pressed harder against her sternum.
She felt like she couldn't get enough air. The room was too hot, too bright, too full of eyes, voices and that persistent ringing in her ears that meant her body was giving up on her again.
She couldn't stand the worry in his eyes, the way he'd just rejected someone else's touch without even noticing because he was too focused on her. She'd been so sure that this whole night was leading to this moment, but he wasn't laughing.
And somehow that was worse. Because it meant he actually cared, or he pitied her. And she didn't know which possibility hurt more.
She hated pity more than mockery… At least that was honest.
Her vision swam at the edges, darkening in a way it never had before. It felt like someone was slowly turning down the lights. Yves opened his mouth, stepping toward her, his hand reaching out.
But she couldn't let him say something kind when she already felt so small, or let him see her collapse, couldn't add that humiliation to the night's collection.
She turned around quickly and the room spun. She had to grab onto someone's shoulder to steady herself before pushing past them.
She didn't care who called out behind her.
It didn't matter anymore, especially because she was already halfway out of this world.
Outside, Juno pressed her back against the rough trunk of a tree, while struggling to stabilize her breathing, which made her chest rise and fall. The cold night air chilled her, but she could barely notice it.
She had proven to everyone what they already thought.
Her fists clenched at her sides, nails digging into her palms as the pressure in her chest increased. It would be easier to leave, quit university, disappear before causing more damage, before hurting anyone else with her presence.
But then, a familiar voice broke through her thoughts.
"Hey."
Juno startled and her thoughts scattered when she turned to see Yves standing beside her, worry clear in his eyes.
"Don't worry about it," he said gently. "It's just a cake, right? Accidents happen. The party is for fun, not–"
"Yves, please."
Her voice broke as she interrupted him, quieter than she intended. The words hit harder than she expected, but they came out unfiltered.
He blinked, taken by surprise. "What?"
Juno wrapped her arms around herself, shaking slightly. "You heard what she said," she murmured, looking down at the ground. "She didn't even want me there. I shouldn't have come, this was a mistake."
Yves's frown deepened and he stepped closer. "No. That's not true," he insisted. "Don't listen to her."
Juno let out a hollow laugh, but there was nothing funny about it. "Why are you trying to fix this?" She didn't look at him. "I didn't ask for your help. I'd rather you join the rest and make fun of me. It's easier that way."
Yves shifted uncomfortably, clearly unsure how to handle her rawness. "Okay, well... uh..." He hesitated, clearly searching for the right words. "I mean, everyone makes mistakes, right? It's not like anyone's going to remember the cake in a week. Besides, who cares what they think?"
"That's the problem, Yves. You don't understand. They care. They always care." She shook her head and her voice faded as her chest tightened. "And I care too much about what they think. But I shouldn't. I shouldn't have come at all."
Yves's expression softened, but his attempts to comfort were clearly not working. He gently put a hand on her arm. "Hey, come on. I get it, it's a shitty feeling, I know. But it's just one stupid moment, it doesn't define who you are."
Juno pulled away from him. "No," she said sharply. "Don't try to fix this. You can't. You don't even know me."
She turned around quickly, picking up her pace as she walked away.
Yves didn't move immediately, but she could hear him calling her name. "Juno, wait. Hey– just– okay, I know you're mad but can you please just–"
She kept walking, picking up her pace despite the pain in her legs. There was something about him, about the way he tried to help, to fix things, even when he clearly had no idea how to do it, that made her want to tear her hair out in frustration. He didn't understand, he couldn't. She had never been the type of person who could solve her problems with a few words of comfort or a well-intentioned hand on the shoulder. And he wasn't the type of man who would have experienced being a social outcast.
She could feel him following her, but she didn't want to turn around. She was fine alone, she had been before.
But then, his voice came softer, almost helpless: "I really suck at this, don't I?"
Juno's heart skipped and, against her will, she slowed down slightly.
They walked through the streets, the echoes of the party faded, replaced by the distant sounds of cars, laughter from strangers passing by, and occasional gusts of cold wind.
Finally, they reached the city's iconic clock tower. It rose above them, its massive hands marking time, counting seconds that neither of them could ever reclaim.
Juno leaned against its stone base, arms crossed over her chest. Her breath curved in the air; her eyes, fixed on the horizon. The city glowed in the distance, very different from how she felt inside.
Next to her, Yves stood with his hands in his coat pockets, tilting his head back to look at the top of the tower.
After a moment, he murmured: "Do you think I could climb that?"
Juno slowly turned her head, raising an eyebrow. "What?"
"The clock tower," he said, as if it were obvious. "I'm just saying. I have long legs. Good balance."
She blinked at him. "You'd fall and die in like, twenty seconds."
He nodded as if she had confirmed a scientific theory. "Probably. But imagine the view."
Juno stared at him. "Yves."
He kicked a small stone. "What? Haven't you ever wanted to do something incredibly stupid just to prove you could?"
"I literally just ruined a birthday cake and ran from a party like an idiot," she muttered.
He paused. "Okay, so we're both dumb, then."
He took a small step toward her, looking at her face.
"Are you okay?" he asked, now gently, but without condescension. Rather, it seemed like he was genuinely interested in knowing if she had broken in half and was too proud to admit it.
Juno shrugged and looked back at the horizon. "Yeah. I'm just... tired."
He tilted his head, squinting, as if it were a puzzle he wasn't smart enough to solve, but was determined to keep looking until it made sense.
"Well," said Yves, scratching the back of his neck, "you just destroyed a cake and dramatically fled from a social gathering. That must burn some calories."
Juno froze. Her eyebrow twitched and she turned her head, slowly. "Really?"
Yves blinked, like a deer in headlights. "What? No– I mean, yes, but not in a bad way. I'm not making fun of you, I swear. I'm just saying… it was kind of badass? Like, in a villain origin story kind of way."
Her arms crossed tighter. "Is that supposed to be funny?"
He raised his hands, surrendering immediately. "Okay, not funny. But like, cinematic? Come on, you don't just do that and vanish into the night without style. You've got... panache."
Juno stared at him, completely blank. "Panache," she repeated.
He nodded, too quickly. "Exactly."
A moment of silence passed as she gave him a long and unimpressed look. He smiled like an idiot anyway.
Of course he tried to fill the silence and screwed up instead.
"I mean, don't worry about it too much, okay? People suck. And uh, hey, for what it's worth, you were kinda... cute when you ran out."
At first, Juno's expression didn't change, but the atmosphere between them certainly did. She frowned, just a slight downward pull of her eyebrow.
Yves noticed it. "Wait, that sounded creepy. I didn't mean– like, just when you ran out. You're… you always look hot– I mean, no! Not hot. I mean, yes, but not like I stare! I don't! I just have really big eyes and a strong sense of facial awareness–"
He visibly panicked, waving his hands as if he could physically rewind time.
"Unless… you're actually feeling hot?" he suddenly stammered. "Like, fever-hot? You were coughing earlier, maybe it's a flare-up or... or something? I don't know how your condition works! Is that offensive? I just– are you sick-sick right now?"
Juno said nothing, just gave him a long, unreadable look.
Yves stepped back as if her silence had physically slapped him. "Stop that! Don't look at me like that."
"I'm not doing anything," she said calmly.
"You're frowning."
"I'm not."
"You absolutely are. It's subtle, but it's there. You look like you just saw me kick a kitten."
"I have no idea what you're talking about," she said, her face still visibly frowning.
Yves pointed at her face as if it had betrayed him. "There! That! That's the face! I said something stupid and now you're judging me."
Yves covered his face with both hands, visibly blushing, and let out a groan.
"Why do I keep doing this?" he muttered through his fingers, almost as if he were talking to the universe itself.
Juno's lips twitched at seeing him, and before she could stop it, a laugh escaped her, a quiet, almost reluctant sound.
Yves lifted his hands from his face. "Yes! There it is. That's what I was looking for. You laugh, I win."
Juno rolled her eyes, but this time, the edge of her irritation had melted. "Whatever."
"And now that I've succeeded in my noble quest to restore your humor, it's time for the next chapter."
She narrowed her eyes. "Which is?"
He extended a hand dramatically. "Escort the princess safely to her tower. Obviously."
Juno blinked. "Princess?"
"Non-negotiable," Yves continued, ignoring her look. "There are demons out here, Juno. Monsters, ugly things with claws and weird breath. It's a nightmare."
She stared at him.
"Seriously," he added with a fake serious tone, "who believes in that demon stuff, anyway? That's like... fantasy novel level nonsense." He laughed, shaking his head. "God, I sound ridiculous."
Juno didn't respond immediately, her gaze staying on him for a moment longer. There was something disarming about his casual and silly behavior. It was refreshing. He wasn't trying to be anything more than himself: stupid, sincere, and exactly what she needed at that moment.
But… the ticking.
It was there again. Just beneath her thoughts. A pulse she couldn't ignore.
Her heart beat to its rhythm, a constant beat she couldn't escape, and suddenly she felt as if the shadows around her were darker, as if something was moving in the corners of her vision again.
Dong.
The sudden, loud toll of the bell echoed through the city.
Juno flinched; it wasn't subtle. Her entire body tensed as if the sound had detonated right behind her. Her head snapped upwards and her breath caught in her throat.
Yves blinked, eyebrows lifting. "Whoa. Easy, princess. It's just a bell."
Juno didn't respond. Her eyes were fixed on something high above their heads.
Yves squinted. "Wait, did that actually scare you? Are you, hold on, are you jumpy right now? That's kind of adorable."
Still, she remained silent. The light starting to drain from her face.
"Hey…" His tone softened. "Juno?"
But she wasn't looking at him. Instead, her gaze was fixed on the roof of the clock tower. Her expression had turned pale and her mouth was set in a tight line. Her body was rigid with something beyond discomfort and fear.
Yves followed her line of sight, now feeling curious. "What are you–"
Then he saw it:
Perched on the edge of the tower's stone balcony. A cat.
But not just any cat. This one was darker than shadow, darker than the night around them. It was as if a hole had been torn through reality itself. Its fur drank in the moonlight and left nothing behind. Its eyes glowed violet: bright, unnatural and, worse still, aware.
They watched, pinning Juno in place like a moth caught in a web.
Yves's breath caught in his chest. He took a step towards her, his voice dropping. "…Juno?"
She spoke without taking her eyes off it. Her voice was quiet and broken, filled with dread.
"It's here."
Dong.
Juno's knees buckled under the weight of the cat's violet gaze. A burning pain ignited in her chest, sharper than ever before, as if invisible hands were crushing her ribs. She gasped as the world tilted.
It wasn't just her lungs collapsing; her heart was too. It was beating irregularly, first frantically, then faltering as if it had forgotten how to beat properly. Each uneven beat splintered through her chest until she felt as though she was cracking right down the middle.
She was dying. Her time was up. This whole night… no, this whole day, it's been building up to this and she didn't even notice. She didn't pay attention to her body that had been giving up on her.
Pressing her palm to her sternum, she felt her vision blurring at the edges as her fingers dug into her blouse. The pain radiated outwards into her arms and throat, it was too much to bear.
Yves lunged forward, grabbing her by the shoulders. "Juno! Hey, look at me. What's wrong? Talk to me!"
She tried to speak, but only a ragged breath escaped her lips. Her body trembled as sweat and goosebumps fought for dominance across her skin.
"I… can't…" she began, trying to speak.
Yves's brow furrowed with alarm. He moved closer, his voice rising with panic. "Breathe with me. In… out… come on, stay with me."
Juno forced herself to comply, finding each inhalation a struggle and each exhalation rougher than the last. But the pain was relentless, tightening its grip on her heart.
Dong.
Yves looked over his shoulder and froze.
Across the street, he saw something moving in the alley. Shadows peeled away from the walls. First one, then more, sliding and reshaping themselves into impossibly tall figures. Their long, inhuman limbs bent at odd angles. Faces,or rather the lack of them, stared back with glowing eyes.
Yves squinted. "Okay, what the– What the heck is that?!"
One of the shadows tilted its head.
"Oh my god," he yelled. "Nope. Nope! That's a demon. That is an actual demon." He looked wildly at her, shaking her by the shoulders. "Juno, there's demons! Like, plural! Demons with limbs and breath and that one has way too many teeth–"
The nearest creature began to crawl toward them with a gait that was almost curious. Yves screamed.
"Nope! No thank you. Absolutely not!"
He reached down, grabbed Juno's hand, gentler than his panic should have allowed, and hauled her to her feet. "Okay! Time to go, princess. I'm not about to let you get eaten by whatever that ugly thing is," he said with a nervous chuckle, but the joking tone didn't match the panic rising in his voice.
Juno stumbled forward, one hand pressed tightly against her chest and the other gripping Yves' fingers. With every other step, her legs buckled, forcing her into a half-running stumble where she nearly pitched forward onto the pavement. The burning sensation in her chest worsened and spread up her throat, but she never let go of his hand.
"This is not what I signed up for," Yves panted as they ran. "I thought we were having a moment. I was being charming. There was banter. But now demons are real. Great!"
Dong.
"Left! Left!" Yves barked, trying to sound heroic but sounding very much like someone one bad scare away from sobbing. "I am never going to another party again!" he wheezed. "Remind me next time someone says 'casual get-together' to bring holy water and a bat!"
That's when they saw it.
It was standing at the mouth of the narrow side street. Enormous and looming. It was a demon unlike any they had seen before. It was black as pitch, covered in dozens of eyes fixed on them.
Yves skidded to a halt. "Oh. Oh no. No no no no."
It leaned forward and Yves acted without thinking. He gently but urgently shoved Juno hard to one side.
"Yves–!"
"Down, Juno!" he shouted, flashing a panicked grin. "I've got this! No, I don't! But go!"
And then the demon moved.
Faster than something that size should. It opened, not a mouth, but something that stretched too wide and it swallowed him whole.
One second he was standing there, trying to look brave like an idiot. The next, he was gone.
Dong
The sound was deafening now.
It wasn't just a bell; it was a countdown, a curse and a noose, tightening with each toll.
Juno clawed her way forward on trembling limbs, her skin torn by the pavement and her palms embedded with sand. Her muscles screamed with every inch she gained. Her knees were slick with blood and her breath was a ragged gasp, barely escaping her throat. The cold tore through her clothes and sank into her spine like needles, but she barely felt it.
The demon was still there. She didn't need to look to know. It pressed into her bones, her lungs and her mind. It was as if something was inside her skull, cracking it from within. It was as if her blood was flowing backwards and her insides were folding in on themselves.
It's getting closer.
Juno's body jerked into motion, driven by terror and instinct. Her legs screamed with each step and each breath cut her throat like glass. Her arms ached, her side hurt and her body refused to carry on. It wanted to give up and die.
But she ran anyway.
Dong.
Wind howled against her cheeks. Then the snow started; fat flakes that hit her face like little slaps, each one stinging more than it should. She could barely feel her fingers anymore.
Somewhere, deep beneath the panic, past the pain and terror, a thought broke through:
Wasn't this what she had been waiting for?
She had always thought she was running out of time. Always waiting for the end to come quietly. She had convinced herself that it wouldn't matter when it happened because she had already let everything go. Let everyone go.
Hadn't she accepted it? The emptiness, the loneliness, the inevitable silence?
So why were her feet still pounding against the pavement? Why did her chest ache like it was fighting to stay whole? Why were her hands shaking with fear and not relief?
She was supposed to be ready... but she wasn't. She was terrified.
Dong.
Her legs buckled beneath her. Pain flared through her knees as they hit the frozen pavement, but she didn't feel it. She was still drowning, her esophagus tightening every second. Her arms trembled as she tried to push herself up, but she couldn't.
The demon's presence was everywhere now, in the cracks of the concrete, in the snow that scratched her skin, in the ticking of that damned clock.
She was going to die here, so she turned onto her back and closed her eyes, and just waited for death to come.
But then… a voice.
"I can save you, Juno."
Her body, raw and tormented by fear, went still. Her eyes cracked open.
The cat.
No longer perched on high, but sitting now, directly on her chest, its weight pressing down on her racing heart.
It tilted its head, a mockery of sympathy in its expression. Its voice curved around her ear. "You have a choice," it murmured. "One thread left to pull."
It raised a paw, placing it gently on her sternum. The touch was light as a feather, but she felt it inside her like a needle sewing through her ribs.
"I can give you more time," the cat said, its voice persuasive. "But you'll be bound to me. To the Time Devil."
She couldn't breathe. Her body screamed to crawl away, to fight, but all she could do was lie there, wide-eyed, the world collapsing inward, snowflakes falling on her face.
"You can escape death, Juno," the cat whispered. "But you'll never be free again."
Its eyes gleamed, waiting... and she knew deep in her marrow, that there was no other door left to open.
One choice, one curse, one second chance.
Her lips barely moved, but the words came out.
"...I accept."
The world shattered.
She was falling. It felt like sinking through black ice into water so cold it felt like burning. The ticking of the clock exploded in her ears as she sank deeper, reality folding and buckling around her like ripples on a dark surface. And as time twisted around her, Juno, who had never been shown mercy, never been given time, who had lived like a question mark in the margins of everyone else's story; finally, impossibly, was getting another chance.