Chapter 46: The Comeback (3)
El and Demi walked toward the gate.
The playground was behind them now. The swings were still. The slide was silent. The tree stood motionless at the edge.
No voices. No cold. Just the dark.
Just them.
"Demi."
"Yeah?"
"You didn't hear that voice earlier."
Demi glanced at him. "What voice?"
He didn't hear it.
He never hears it.
Only me.
Always only me.
"Nothing," El said. "Never mind."
Demi studied him for a moment. Didn't believe him. But didn't push.
"Here." Demi handed him a coffee cup. Warm. Steam rising.
"I know you need this. Stop that overthinking face, El."
Coffee.
He brought coffee.
When did he—
Doesn't matter.
It's warm.
It's real.
It's—
"You know me well," El said. He took a sip. Bitter. Dark. Just the way he liked it.
"But you also said that I should drink less coffee."
Demi blinked. "Huh? Did I say that?"
The other timeline.
The Demi from the lost Tuesday.
The one who said he was drinking too much.*m
Not this Demi.
This Demi doesn't remember.
He never remembers.
I have to stop doing that.
I have to stop confusing timelines.
"I forgot," El said. "Never mind."
Demi studied him for a moment. Didn't believe him. But didn't push.
They walked.
The gate creaked as they passed through it.
No streetlights. Just darkness. Just the gravel path leading away from the playground. The city was far from here. No hum. No glow. Just silence.
El sipped his coffee.
Dark. Bitter. Warm.
He brought me coffee.
In the middle of the night.
After everything.
After the ritual.
After the voice.
Because he knew I needed it.
Because he knows me.
Demi pulled out his phone. The screen glowed in the dark. He tapped it. Waited.
"Nightcab's coming," he said. "ETA twenty minutes."
El nodded.
They stood in silence.
The night was cold. No streetlights. No city glow. Just the two of them and the dark.
But the coffee was warm.
"El."
He looked at Demi.
"You're doing it again."
"Sorry."
"Don't be sorry. Just... stop. You're safe. I'm here."
Safe.
He says I'm safe.
But I'm not.
Not really.
Not with the shadow watching.
Not with the voice whispering.
Not with—
"I know," El said.
Demi nodded.
They waited.
The nightcab's headlights appeared in the distance — two small lights cutting through the dark.
---
EL'S APARTMENT – 2:15 AM
The nightcab pulled up to the curb.
El stepped out. Demi followed.
The street was quiet. The buildings were dark. The only light came from the moon and a single streetlamp at the corner.
Demi walked El to his door.
"You good?" Demi asked.
"I'm fine."
"You're not fine. You're never fine. That's your whole brand."
There it is again.
Some things never change.
"Thanks, Demi."
"Don't thank me. Just... get some sleep. Real sleep. Not 'I'm fine' sleep."
El unlocked the door. Pushed it open.
The apartment was dark. Quiet.
Oreo was curled on his bed. Fast asleep. Her tiny chest rose and fell. Her paws twitched — probably dreaming of tuna.
There's no place like home.
He stepped inside. Closed the door behind him.
Demi's footsteps faded across the street.
El stripped off his suit jacket. Loosened his tie. Kicked off his shoes.
He lay down on the bed.
Oreo didn't move.
Lucky cat.
She doesn't know about the loops.
About the shadows.
About the voices.
She just sleeps.
She just dreams.
She just exists.
He closed his eyes.
His phone buzzed.
He reached for it. Blinked at the screen.
UNKNOWN:You finally back.
El stared at the message.
Who—
How did they—
Why—
He was too tired.
He set the phone down.
Closed his eyes.
Sleep took him before he could think another thought.
---
The sign buzzed overhead. Flickering. WHIMSY. COFFEE. SINCE— the letters stuttered — WE FORGOT.
The barista wiped the counter. Same tired eyes. Same nose ring. Same slumped posture.
The air behind him shifted. Cold. Familiar.
Shade materialized in the corner. Hollow eyes. Static at the edges. Same presence that had watched El since the beginning.
"What did you do?" Shade's voice rasped like dry leaves.
The barista didn't turn. "I did what should be done."
"But now she knows that you took a side!"
The barista finally looked up. His tired eyes met Shade's hollow ones.
"And what do you want me to do?" His voice was flat. Unmoved.
"Let the boy suffer? Continue to watch her enjoying him?"
Shade's form flickered.
"I can't let that happen." The barista picked up the rag. Wiped the same spot he'd already cleaned.
"You said it yourself. You can't do anything because of those chains of yours. So I'll just do you a favor."
Shade was quiet for a long moment.
Then: "Haaa. A favor, you say." His voice dripped with something between frustration and resignation.
"You just tell me that I'm indebted to you now."
The barista set the rag down. "I didn't say that."
Shade's hollow eyes seemed to soften. Just slightly. Just enough.
"Well. Thank you." His voice was quieter now. "For protecting him."
The barista didn't respond.
Shade faded.
The café was quiet again.
The barista picked up the rag.
Wiped the same spot.
Waited.