Emily woke up to silence.
No alarm. No noise. Just stillness.
For a moment, she didn't move. Her mind felt slow, heavy, like it hadn't fully caught up yet.
Then something felt off.
She turned her head toward the window, squinting at the light pushing through the curtains. Too bright.
Her hand fumbled for her phone.
7:52 AM.
Her stomach dropped.
"No-"
She shot up, the blanket tangling around her legs. "No, no, no-"
She kicked it off, stumbling slightly as she rushed to her wardrobe, grabbing whatever pair of hoodie and jeans she could reach first.
Her thoughts were scattered, jumping too fast—
Until they didn't.
Last night.
The road.
That sound.
Her hands stilled, fingers tightening around the fabric.
For a second, it came back too clearly.
The man on his knees.
The swing.
The way he hadn't even paused.
Emily sucked in a breath, her chest tightening.
"Stop," she muttered under her breath. "You're late. Just—move."
She forced herself to keep going, pulling on her clothes, tying her hair into the usual bun quickly. A few strands slipped loose, refusing to stay no matter how many times she tried.
Her bag was still half open from yesterday. She shoved her books in without checking, one notebook sticking out awkwardly.
"Aunt Rae- I'm late!"
"I can see that."
The reply came from the kitchen, calm but not indifferent.
Emily rushed in, grabbing a piece of toast from the plate, already taking a bite as she moved.
"You didn't wake me," she said, words muffled.
Her aunt turned from the stove, giving her a look that was equal parts unimpressed and concerned.
"I did," she said. "Twice. You didn't even flinch."
Emily paused mid-bite, frowning. "I didn't hear anything."
"You didn't hear your alarm either," her aunt pointed out, folding her arms lightly. "That's impressive, considering it's loud enough to wake the neighbors."
Emily huffed a quiet breath. "Okay, that's not helping."
Her aunt's expression softened slightly. "You were out cold. Or…" she hesitated for a second, watching her more closely, "something was keeping you there."
Emily looked down at the counter, picking at the edge of the toast.
"…I was just tired."
It came out too quickly.
Her aunt didn't respond right away.
Instead, she stepped closer, setting a glass of juice in front of her. Then, without asking, she reached up and tucked a loose strand of hair behind Emily's ear.
The gesture was small.
Familiar.
"You haven't been eating properly," she said quietly. "And you look like you didn't sleep at all."
Emily gave a faint smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "I'm okay."
"You say that a lot."
There was no sharpness in it. Just quiet observation.
Emily's fingers tightened slightly around the toast.
"I am okay," she said again, softer now.
Her aunt held her gaze for a second longer.
Like she was deciding whether to push.
She didn't.
Not this time.
"Sit," she said instead, nodding toward the chair. "Two minutes. You rushing around like this isn't going to fix anything."
"I don't have time—"
"You do," her aunt cut in gently, but firmly. "Sit."
Emily hesitated, shifting her weight.
Then gave in, dropping into the chair with a quiet sigh.
Her aunt poured her more juice, setting it in front of her and waiting.
Emily noticed.
"…You're going to stand there until I drink it, aren't you?"
"Yes."
Emily almost smiled, picking up the glass and taking a few quick sips.
"Properly," her aunt added.
"I am drinking it properly."
"You're inhaling it."
Emily rolled her eyes slightly but slowed down anyway.
A small silence settled between them.
Not uncomfortable.
Just… careful.
"I'll drop you," her aunt said after a moment, reaching for her keys.
Emily looked up. "You don't have to. I can just—"
"I know I don't have to," she said, softer now. "I want to."
That made Emily pause.
There was something steady in the way she said it. Not forceful. Just… there.
"…Okay," Emily said quietly.
Her aunt gave a small nod, like that was enough.
"Finish that," she added, tapping the plate lightly. "You're not going to school on half a breakfast and bad decisions."
Emily let out a soft breath, somewhere between a sigh and a laugh.
"Too late for the bad decisions part."
Her aunt raised an eyebrow. "That sounds concerning."
Emily shook her head quickly. "It's not- I just meant being late."
"Mm," her aunt said, clearly not fully convinced.
But she let it go.
For now.
The ride to school was quiet—but not empty.
The low hum of the engine filled the space between them, steady and familiar. Outside, the streets moved past in a blur of early morning traffic and half-open shops.
Emily sat by the window, her shoulder lightly pressed against the door, her reflection faint in the glass.
She watched it without really seeing it.
Her thoughts didn't stay still.
They kept circling back.
The boy.
She didn't remember his name. Didn't know where he came from. Didn't even know why she couldn't just forget it.
But she remembered him.
Too clearly.
The way he had stood there.
Still. Unbothered.
The way he had looked at her—
Not angry.
Not surprised.
Just… like she didn't matter.
Emily shifted slightly in her seat, her fingers curling into the fabric of her bag.
"Emily."
Her aunt's voice was gentle, but it cut through her thoughts easily.
Emily blinked and looked over. "Hm?"
"You've been staring at the same spot for five minutes," her aunt said, glancing at her briefly before looking back at the road. "That's usually not a great sign."
Emily looked back at the window. "I'm just thinking."
"About?"
The question came casually.
Too casually.
Emily hesitated, her fingers tightening slightly.
For a second—she almost said it.
Not everything. Just… something.
But the words didn't come.
Instead, she shook her head lightly. "It's nothing. Just… school stuff."
There was a small pause.
Her aunt didn't respond right away.
Emily could feel it anyway.
That quiet disbelief.
"School stuff," her aunt repeated, not mocking, just… testing the words.
Emily nodded. "Yeah."
Another pause.
Longer this time.
Her aunt's hands stayed steady on the steering wheel, but her gaze flicked toward Emily again, softer now.
"You don't have to explain everything," she said. "But don't make everything into 'nothing' either."
Emily swallowed slightly, looking down at her lap. "I'm not," she said, quieter.
Her aunt didn't argue.
Didn't correct her.
She just nodded once, like she'd heard enough for now.
"Alright," she said after a moment. "Just don't carry things by yourself if you don't have to."
Emily gave a small nod.
"Yeah."
She didn't fully mean it.
But she couldn't say that out loud either.
The car fell quiet again, the space between them settling into something softer, heavier.
Emily turned back to the window.
Her reflection stared back.
And despite everything—
Her thoughts drifted right back to him.
---
Silvergrove didn't feel normal.
Emily noticed it before she even stepped through the gate.
The front entrance—especially near the garden—was crowded in a way it usually wasn't this early. Students stood in tight clusters, some on their phones, some leaning into conversations, voices overlapping and rising over each other.
Not casual chatter.
Something sharper.
Something focused.
"Have a good day," her aunt said from the car.
Emily nodded, already distracted. "You too."
She stepped out, closing the door behind her, her attention pulled immediately toward the crowd.
"…I'm telling you, it was in the newspaper," someone said.
"Not just the paper—my dad was talking about it all morning," another added.
"A year and a half and he just walks out like that?"
"That's insane."
"Do you think he'll actually come back here?"
A pause.
Then—
"He will. Why wouldn't he?"
Emily slowed, her brows knitting together.
"What is going on…" she murmured under her breath.
She adjusted her bag and moved closer, weaving carefully through people who barely noticed her, too busy with their own conversations.
"…I heard it wasn't even his first time—"
"Seriously..?"
Emily's gaze moved across the crowd—
Until she spotted Sam.
Leaning against the railing, arms crossed tightly, one foot pressed back against the metal bar. Her expression was set, eyes fixed somewhere ahead.
Not curious.
Not surprised.
Just… irritated.
Emily made her way over quickly.
"Sam," she said, a little out of breath.
"What's going on? Why is everyone here?"
"They're bored," Sam replied without looking at her.
Emily frowned. "No, they're not. This is—something else."
Sam didn't respond.
Her jaw tightened slightly, her fingers curling against her sleeves.
Emily glanced back toward the crowd, catching bits of conversation again.
"James Macintyre," someone said clearly this time.
The name stuck.
Another voice lowered. "You remember what happened last year, right?"
"Yeah. He got arrested."
"Not just arrested," someone cut in. "It was bad. Like—really bad."
"My brother said it made the news everywhere."
"He was gone for like… what, a year and a half?"
"Yeah."
"And now he's back."
Emily felt something shift in her chest.
She turned back to Sam. "Do you know who they're talking about?"
Sam's shoulders tensed almost immediately.
"…Doesn't matter," she said.
Emily blinked. "Sam-"
"It's not your business," Sam snapped, sharper than usual.
Emily went quiet.
The words landed harder than expected.
Sam exhaled roughly, dragging a hand through her hair, frustration clear now.
"Just… ignore it," she said, quieter but still firm. "Seriously. People love making everything a big deal."
Emily studied her. "You don't look like you think it's nothing."
Sam let out a short, humorless breath.
"With him? It's never nothing."
Emily frowned. "Who is he?"
Sam didn't answer.
Instead, she looked away slightly, like she'd already said more than she wanted to.
Emily hesitated, then tried again, softer this time. "Sam…"
Sam cut her off, not harsh—but final.
"Whatever this is," she said, glancing back at her, "just stay out of it. Trust me."
Emily held her gaze for a second.
Sam's expression didn't change.
That was the answer.
Emily's grip tightened slightly on her bag.
Sam looked past her.
Not at her anymore.
Like she'd already made the decision not to say it.
"…You'll see," she muttered under her breath.
And somehow—
That felt worse than an answer.
Then—
A sound cut through everything.
Low.
Heavy.
An engine.
The chatter didn't stop all at once—but it dipped. Broke. Like people lost track of what they were saying mid-sentence.
Heads turned.
Emily felt it instantly.
That same drop in her stomach.
Slow.
Unwelcome.
She turned, almost without thinking.
The bike rolled in through the gate.
Not fast. Not loud in an aggressive way.
Controlled.
Deliberate.
Like it didn't need attention—
It already had it.
Her breath caught.
The helmet.
Her fingers tightened around the strap of her bag.
No…
The bike came to a smooth stop near the front.
The rider didn't move right away.
Just sat there for a second, one hand still resting on the handle, like the silence around him didn't matter.
Then he reached up—
And pulled off the helmet.
Emily froze.
It was him.
No doubt.
The same face.
The same unreadable calm.
The same boy from last night.
Her chest tightened, breath going shallow without her meaning it.
A murmur spread through the crowd, low but fast.
"That's him-"
"James-"
"He actually came back-"
"After everything-?"
A group of girls near the front didn't hesitate. They moved closer, curiosity beating out whatever caution the rest of the crowd had.
"James," one of them said, smiling a little too easily. "You're back."
Another leaned in slightly. "You just disappeared on us."
James glanced at them, slow, like he was deciding if the conversation was even worth having.
Then a faint smirk pulled at his mouth.
"Didn't realize I was that memorable," he said.
"Please," one of the girls laughed. "Half the school was talking about you."
"Only half?" he replied, tilting his head slightly. "That's disappointing."
A few of them laughed again, softer this time.
"You could've at least texted before vanishing," another added, playful.
James let out a quiet breath, almost amused. "Yeah, I'll keep that in mind next time I get arrested."
There was a beat—
Then a couple of them laughed anyway.
Because of course they did.
Behind him, one of the guys leaning against another bike muttered, "Place got boring without you."
James scoffed under his breath,
swinging his leg off the bike. "You say that like I was here for your entertainment."
"Weren't you?" the guy shot back.
James didn't answer that.
He just stretched slightly, rolling his shoulder once, completely at ease. Like the attention, the whispers, the tension—it all just… slid off him.
Like this wasn't a return.
Like nothing had changed.
Emily couldn't look away.
Her mind kept trying to catch up with what she was seeing.
He was here.
At school.
Like last night hadn't happened.
Like it meant nothing.
For a second—his gaze shifted.
It moved across the crowd, casual, uninterested—
Until it paused.
On her.
Emily's breath caught.
It was brief.
A second, maybe less.
But it was enough.
Something flickered in his expression.
Recognition.
Then it was gone.
Like it had never been there.
He looked away first.
Emily didn't.
Behind her, Sam's voice cut in—low, sharp.
"Unbelievable."
Emily blinked, pulling her gaze away.
Sam was staring straight at him, her expression hardened in a way Emily hadn't seen before.
"No regret," sam muttered under her breath. "Not even a little."
Emily swallowed, her voice quieter now.
"…You know him."
Sam didn't answer.
But her silence wasn't empty.
It said enough.
Sam finally turned to Emily.
Her expression had changed completely.
Whatever she'd been holding back earlier was gone now—her gaze sharp, almost cutting.
Emily didn't need to ask again.
Sam gave a short nod. "Yeah," she said.
"I know him."
There was a brief pause before she added, quieter, more bitter—
"Wish I didn't."
Emily blinked, caught off guard by the tone. "…Who is he?"
Sam let out a slow breath through her nose, like even explaining him was a waste of energy.
"A problem," she said flatly.
Then, after a second—
"James Macintyre."
The name landed heavier than it should have for someone Emily had only just heard about.
Sam pushed herself off the railing, rolling her shoulders like she was trying to shake something off.
"Of course he shows up like this," she muttered. "Middle of the entrance, full audience, engine noise and everything. Subtle."
Emily glanced back toward the crowd, where people were still gathered around him.
"He just got back, right?" she said carefully.
Sam let out a dry, humorless laugh. "Yeah. And apparently that means we're all supposed to act impressed."
Her jaw tightened.
"Bastard."
Emily hesitated. "What did he-"
"Don't," Sam cut in quickly, not looking at her. "Don't ask."
Before Emily could respond, Sam reached out and grabbed her hand—not harsh, but firm, like she'd already decided they were leaving.
"Come on," she said. "We're not standing here staring at him like everyone else."
Emily stumbled a little before falling into step beside her. "Sam, wait-"
"He loves this," Sam continued under her breath as they walked. "The attention, the whispers, people pretending they're not scared of him."
She shot a glance over her shoulder, her lip curling slightly.
"Let him stand there and enjoy himself. I'm not giving him the satisfaction."
Emily glanced back once too, just for a second—
Then looked forward again, picking up her pace.
Sam's grip didn't loosen, but it shifted slightly, less tense now that they were moving away.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then Sam exhaled, like something else had just crossed her mind.
"Michael's probably in a mood now," she said.
Emily looked at her. "Why?"
Sam shrugged, but there was an edge to it. "Because this kind of thing never stays quiet. It turns into drama in like five minutes. And he hates that."
She glanced sideways at Emily.
"Did you see him when you came in?
He's usually at the gate before anyone else."
Emily shook her head, a small crease forming between her brows. "No… I didn't. I came late."
Sam nodded once. "Yeah. Makes sense."
She slowed for half a second, thinking.
"He's probably already in class," she said. "Avoiding all this. Classic Michael. Pretend the world doesn't exist."
Emily gave a faint nod. "That sounds like him."
Sam huffed lightly. "Exactly."
They moved further down the path toward the main corridor, the noise from the entrance starting to fade behind them.
But not completely.
Because just as they passed the edge of the crowd—
Sam's steps didn't stop.
Didn't hesitate.
But her attention shifted.
Just slightly.
James was still there, leaning casually against his bike now, one arm draped over the handle like he had nowhere else to be. A couple of girls still hovered near him, laughing at something he'd said.
Like nothing about him was… off.
Like everything was normal.
For a split second, his gaze lifted.
It moved across the passing students—
And landed on Sam.
The shift was subtle.
But it was there.
Recognition.
Sam didn't look away.
Her grip on Emily's hand tightened just a fraction.
Her expression hardened instantly, all the irritation from before sharpening into something colder. More personal.
She held his gaze.
Not long.
But long enough.
No words.
No reaction.
Just a look that made it very clear—
She hadn't forgotten anything.
Then she broke it first, turning her head forward again like he wasn't worth another second.
"Keep walking," she muttered under her breath.
Emily hadn't realized she'd slowed until Sam tugged her forward again.
"Oh- yeah."
They picked up their pace, stepping fully out of the crowd now and into the corridor.
Sam didn't let go of her hand immediately.
And when she finally did—
It wasn't abrupt.
Just quiet.
Like she hadn't even realized she was holding on that tightly in the first place.
Emily glanced at her, then ahead.
Her thoughts were a mess now.
James.
Sam's reaction.
Michael missing.
None of it lined up neatly.
And somehow—
That made it worse.
Because whatever this was—
It didn't feel like something that was just going to pass.
It felt like the beginning of something.
And Emily had a feeling—
She was already closer to it than she should be.