Morgan woke up with a start, sitting up so suddenly that the mattress bounced, and screamed before his eyes were even fully open.
—Wait, what?
The scream — sudden, sharp, completely without warning — made Satana jump so hard she nearly fell off the bed. She stayed there, sitting, heart hammering, both hands pressed against her ears as if the sound had physically hurt them.
—Ahh, my ears, *my ears!*
Satana cried out as she got up from the bed and began stumbling around the room.
Morgan, for his part, took a few seconds to get his bearings. He blinked several times, turned his head from side to side, recognized the walls of his bedroom, the familiar light from the ceiling, the tangled sheets beneath his hands. He let out a relieved breath.
His room. He was in his room.
—Good.
(Morgan said, visibly relieved.)
But just as the relief began to settle in, something interrupted it from the inside. An echo. The last words he'd heard before waking, still drifting through his thoughts like smoke that wouldn't quite clear.
*"See you when you wake up."*
—What did he mean by that?
Morgan brought a hand to his chin, brow slightly furrowed, eyes fixed on no particular point. There was something about that phrase. Something that didn't quite close, that wasn't a simple goodbye, that...
But Morgan couldn't think any further, because Satana's groaning pulled his attention away.
He looked at her. She was still holding her ears, walking in small, graceless circles, as if the world had a slight but persistent tilt to it. It was, objectively, a little bit funny to watch. Seeing her wobble around like that. Which immediately made him feel guilty, because he was entirely responsible for her condition.
He moved toward her quickly — clumsily quickly — with the energy of someone who doesn't really know what to do but feels compelled to do *something.*
—I'm sorry, I'm sorry, are you okay? Quick, quick, sit down, sit down.
He put his hands on her shoulders with more gentleness than his voice implied and guided her to the edge of the bed.
—Are you okay?
(Morgan said, genuinely remorseful, wearing that expression people get when they can't decide whether to apologize with words or simply throw themselves on the floor.)
Satana, who could still feel the room spinning just a little, grabbed her head with one hand and answered with disarming honesty.
—Yeah, I'm fine. My head's spinning but I'm fine. Haha.
(She said, letting out a small laugh.)
—I'm really sorry.
Morgan pressed his hands together in front of him as if in prayer. Literally praying. To Satana. Asking forgiveness for having blindsided her with a scream out of nowhere.
—I'm really fine, haha. You don't have to make that face.
(She said, laughing a little more this time.)
But then something shifted in her expression. The laughter faded slowly — not because anything bad had happened, but because she suddenly remembered. Remembered why she was there. Remembered the hours she'd spent watching him, unable to do anything, waiting, worried in a way she didn't quite know how to name.
And before she could think about it too much, she threw herself at him and hugged him.
It wasn't a soft hug. It was one of those hugs that squeeze a little harder than necessary, that say things words would only make clumsy.
—Don't ever do something like that again. Please.
(She said it in that voice. That voice that's one breath away from breaking.)
Morgan didn't answer right away. He just closed his eyes for a moment, then said quietly:
—I won't do it again. I promise... I'm sorry.
Satana exhaled. She pulled back a little — just enough to look at him — and then, because that was who she was, because she couldn't help it, she smiled, her usual spirit returning.
—Good. So then, are you going to tell me who your new friend is?
(Satana said, smiling.)
—New friend?
(Morgan asked, genuinely lost.)
—Yeah. Your new friend. The one over *there.*
She pointed at a spot behind him.
Morgan turned.
And went completely still. Mouth open. The color draining from his face with remarkable efficiency.
Xol — in his dog form, sprawled across the bed with all the comfort in the world — was licking one of his paws with absolute leisure. But the moment he noticed Morgan had spotted him, he looked up. And smiled. In that way of his. Mocking. Unhurried. Like someone who had been waiting for precisely this moment for quite some time.
Morgan screamed at the top of his lungs.
—*AHHHHHHH!*
---
*End of chapter.*
**Next chapter: You should talk to her.**