Kunle stopped screaming.
Not slowly.
Not gradually.
One second he was clutching his head, shaking, begging for it to stop—
And the next—
Silence.
Not the kind I felt around Kai.
Not empty.
Not calm.
This silence felt… broken.
Wrong.
My chest tightened as I stepped forward. "Kunle…?"
He didn't answer.
He was still on his knees, head lowered, body completely still.
Around us, the noise continued.
Is he okay?
Did he pass out?
Someone call the nurse—
But I couldn't focus on them anymore.
Because something had changed.
I couldn't hear him.
At all.
My breath caught.
No thoughts.
No voice.
Nothing.
That wasn't possible.
Even unconscious people had thoughts. Faint. Blurry. But still there.
This—
This was like Kai.
No.
Worse.
Kai felt like silence.
Kunle felt like something had been erased.
"Kunle," I said again, my voice tighter now. "Answer me."
Slowly—
He lifted his head.
And my entire body went cold.
His eyes met mine.
But they weren't right.
There was no panic anymore.
No confusion.
No pain.
Just—
Stillness.
"You're loud," he said.
My breath hitched.
His voice was steady.
Too steady.
"Kunle…?" I whispered.
He tilted his head slightly, studying me like I was something unfamiliar.
"Before," he continued, "it hurt."
A pause.
"Now it doesn't."
A chill ran down my spine.
"What do you mean?" I asked.
He stood up slowly.
Every movement controlled.
Deliberate.
"I can hear them," he said.
My chest tightened.
Of course he could.
I already knew that.
But the way he said it—
It wasn't fear.
It wasn't panic.
It was—
Acceptance.
"They're all talking," he continued, glancing around at the crowd. "All the time."
His gaze shifted back to me.
"But you…"
He took a step closer.
"You're the loudest."
My heart skipped.
That didn't make sense.
"I didn't—" I started.
"You did," he said calmly.
The words hit harder than they should have.
Behind me, I felt it—
Kai.
Watching.
Silent.
"I didn't give you anything," I said quickly.
Kunle's lips curved slightly.
Not a smile.
Something colder.
"You changed it," he said.
My stomach dropped.
Same words.
Different meaning.
"How do you know that?" I asked.
He didn't answer directly.
Instead, he looked around again.
At everyone.
At everything.
Then back at me.
"It's clearer now," he said.
"Clearer than what?"
"Before," he replied, "it was just noise."
A pause.
"Now I understand it."
My pulse quickened.
That wasn't how it worked.
That wasn't how my ability worked.
It was never clear.
Never easy.
Never controlled.
"That's not possible," I said.
Kunle didn't argue.
He just looked at me.
"You're doing it wrong," he said.
Something in my chest tightened.
"What?"
"You've been doing it wrong this whole time," he repeated.
Anger flared.
"You don't even know what you're talking about," I snapped.
"I do," he said calmly.
Another step closer.
"And that's the problem."
Before I could respond—
My phone buzzed.
The sound felt heavier now.
Sharper.
Like it meant something worse.
I didn't want to check.
But I did.
Unknown: This is the result.
My fingers trembled.
Me: Fix it.
The reply came instantly.
Unknown: It can't be fixed.
My jaw tightened.
Me: Then tell me what to do.
A pause.
Then—
Unknown: Stay away from him.
My breath caught.
I looked up.
Kunle was still watching me.
Too closely.
Too quietly.
Like he was listening to something deeper than thoughts.
"He's telling you to run," Kunle said.
My heart skipped.
"What?"
"You should listen," he added.
My chest tightened.
"You can hear that?" I asked.
Kunle didn't answer.
That was answer enough.
Behind me, Kai finally spoke.
"You need to leave."
I didn't turn.
"I'm not leaving him like this," I said.
"You already did," she replied.
The words hit hard.
I clenched my fists.
"I can still fix it."
"No," she said.
My chest tightened.
"He's stable now," she continued. "That's the problem."
I frowned. "What does that mean?"
"It means," she said, "this is permanent."
The word hit like a punch.
Permanent.
"No," I said immediately.
Kunle laughed softly.
The sound sent a chill through me.
"She's right," he said.
I stared at him.
"You don't feel it yet?" he asked.
"Feel what?"
He stepped even closer.
Too close.
Then—
He reached out—
And grabbed my wrist.
The moment he touched me—
Everything exploded.
Not silence.
Not noise.
Something worse.
Every thought around us—
Every voice—
Every whisper—
All at once.
Ten times louder.
Ten times sharper.
My knees almost gave out.
"Stop—!" I gasped.
But he didn't let go.
"This is what it's supposed to feel like," Kunle said.
His voice echoed—
Inside my head.
Not just outside.
Inside.
"That's not—" I struggled to speak, "that's not normal—"
"It is now," he replied.
I forced myself to pull away.
The moment his grip broke—
The noise dropped.
Still loud.
But survivable.
I staggered back, breathing hard.
"What did you do?" I demanded.
Kunle looked at his hand.
Then at me.
"I didn't do anything," he said.
A pause.
"You did."
My chest tightened.
"No," I whispered.
"You shared it," he said.
"I didn't—"
"You did," he repeated.
His eyes locked onto mine.
"And now…"
A small pause.
"…we're connected."
My heart stopped.
Connected?
That wasn't possible.
That shouldn't be possible.
My phone buzzed again.
I didn't need to look.
I already knew.
But I still did.
Unknown: This is only the beginning.
My chest tightened.
I looked up at Kunle.
Then at Kai.
Then back at my phone.
And for the first time—
I understood something clearly.
This wasn't just about the future anymore.
This wasn't just about choices.
This was spreading.
Changing.
Becoming something bigger than me.
And somehow—
I had started it.
Kunle tilted his head slightly, watching me.
"You hear them," he said.
A faint smile formed.
"But I understand them."
My chest tightened.
"That's the difference between us."
I didn't respond.
Because deep down—
I knew.
He was right.
And that was exactly what made him dangerous.