Today felt… different. Andre and I were supposed to go on a date after class. He'd followed me all day, holding my hand between lectures, teasing me every chance he got. We'd both been looking forward to it — just us, somewhere quiet, maybe that small café he likes near the fountain.
But fate had other plans. His lecturer suddenly announced a make-up class, completely unscheduled. Andre's face fell when he saw the message on his phone — he looked more disappointed than I was. He kept apologizing, saying he didn't want to leave me alone, not when we still didn't know who had been watching me.
He tried to argue, of course. My sweet puppy, so stubborn when it came to me. But when the lecturer warned that late students would lose a point, he hesitated. I had to push him, literally, to go.
"Go," I told him, trying to sound confident. "I'll be fine. Don't lose your marks because of me."
He frowned, brushed his thumb against my cheek, and whispered, "Text me the second you get home, okay?"
I nodded.
He kissed my forehead, hesitated one more time, and ran off.
And just like that, I was alone.
The campus was unusually quiet — shorter days, longer nights. The air felt heavier, the kind that clings to your skin and whispers things you don't want to hear. I pulled my jacket tighter, my shoes echoing softly against the pavement as I walked past the dim streetlights.
Then I felt it.
That familiar pull — the sense of being watched.
I tried to shake it off, telling myself it was nothing. Just nerves. Just the dark. But when I turned the corner, I saw him.
He wasn't hiding this time.
He walked straight toward me — tall, graceful, like he belonged to the night itself. His silver hair shimmered faintly under the yellow light, and his ocean-blue eyes locked onto mine. The tattoos around his neck peeked from under his collar, black ink curling like smoke against pale skin.
My breath caught.
We were about to pass each other when he reached out, grabbed my wrist, and pulled me close — too close.
Before I could even speak, his lips crashed into mine.
It wasn't soft or hesitant; it was desperate. Possessive.
I hit his chest, tried to push him away, but he didn't move.
When he finally let go, I stumbled back, tears stinging my eyes.
"Who are you?" I demanded, my voice trembling.
He didn't answer. His hand rose, cold fingers brushing my cheek as if he'd done it a thousand times before. His eyes softened, almost mournful.
"Do you miss me, dear Vivi?" he whispered.
My heart froze.
And then he leaned close, his breath warm against my ear.
"Remember."
The word hit me like lightning. My vision blurred — flashes of white, blood, pain, laughter — everything and nothing all at once. My knees gave out. The world went silent.
And as the darkness swallowed me, the last thing I saw were his ocean-blue eyes watching me fall.