Ariana
I don't remember when the call ended.
I remember that, only at some point, I was staring at my phone in the dark, its screen already black, my name still echoing in my own ears the way he'd said it—softer than anyone ever does. Like he hadn't meant to let it sound that way.
I'd told myself it was nothing. An accident. A mistake made at three in the morning by a boy half-drowned in fear.
And yet, my chest still feels tight when I step into the bathroom and turn on the shower, steam blooming instantly around me. The sound of running water should drown out my thoughts. But it doesn't.
Time's never enough with you.
I squeeze my eyes shut as the words resurface, mortification curling hot in my stomach.
Why did I say that?
Why didn't I stop myself?
I press my palms briefly to my cheeks, already warm, already embarrassed.
He was supposed to call Anna.
That thought lands heavier than it should.
The water beats down over my shoulders, hot enough to sting, and I welcome the sensation. Something real. Something grounding. I tilt my head back, letting it pour over my hair, replaying fragments of the night whether I want to or not. The way his breathing steadied, the way his voice softened as the hours passed, the quiet trust in the pauses between words.
He'd sounded… safe. By the end. And the worst thing is, I had too.
My throat tightens.
I reach for the soap when I notice the steam.
What's this?
Not that it's there, because of course it is. The bathroom is small. The water is hot.
But it's thicker near the far wall, gathering instead of drifting upward. Curling in on itself, slow and deliberate, like breath against glass.
I frown.
"That's weird," I mutter, more to myself than anything.
The steam shifts slightly. Not dispersing. Not moving with the air. Just… adjusting.
A cold prickle runs along my arms, utterly wrong against the heat. I lower my hands slowly, heart beginning to beat faster, each thud suddenly loud in my ears.
It feels like being watched.
Not from behind, but from within the room, like the space itself has narrowed. Like I'm standing somewhere I shouldn't be.
"Hello?" I call. And instantly regret it too.
The word barely leaves my mouth before pain blooms behind my eyes.
Ah!
Not sharp at first. A slow pressure. Then dense and sudden, like fingers pressing into the back of my skull. I gasp, gripping the tile as my vision blurs at the edges.
Then comes the sound.
Not a voice. Not words.
A shrill, piercing scream that isn't loud but close—inside my head, vibrating through thought rather than air. I cry out, knees buckling as the pressure spikes—
"Look"
—and it vanishes. Just like that.
The steam thins. The wall is just a wall again. The shower keeps running, water drumming innocently against porcelain. I stand there shaking, breath coming too fast, my hands slick against the tile.
"What—" My voice cracks. "What was that?"
There's no answer.
I shut off the water with trembling fingers and stumble out, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around myself like it might protect me from something I can't see. My reflection stares back at me from the mirror—pale, wide-eyed. Hair plastered to my face.
Something's wrong.
I lean closer, searching my own eyes for something I don't know what. Pain still lingers behind them, dull and watchful, like an echo that hasn't decided whether to fade or not.
"You're just tired," I whisper to myself. "That's all."
But as I straighten, as I reach for my clothes, a thought slips into my mind uninvited.
Nathan has to stay away from me.
The sentence startles me more than the scream did.
I freeze.
No.. that's not good. I didn't think tha! I shouldn't think that. The thought feels… planted, somehow. Heavy. Insistent. I shake my head hard, as if I can dislodge it.
Still, my chest tightens.
Still, the ache behind my eyes pulses once more. Like it's satisfied.
And somewhere deep inside my mind, something unseen settles back, quiet and patient.
Watching.
***
The classroom smells faintly of chalk and paper.
I'm sitting on my bench, my notebook open but mostly ignored. Pen moving on its own as I doodle shapes that don't mean anything—curving lines, half-flowers, little spirals I abandon halfway through. But my thoughts keep drifting back to the morning, no matter how hard I push them away.
Steam.
Pressure.
That scream that wasn't a sound.
I glance sideways at Anna. She's sitting straight, eyes on the board and actually paying attention to Mr. Choi explaining something about equations I stopped following ten minutes ago. But of course she is invested in it. Anna never misses anything important.
I swallow.
I should tell her.
The thought presses in, steady and logical. If anyone would know what to do, or at least not laugh, it's Anna. My fingers tighten around the pen as I rehearse the words in my head.
Something weird happened this morning.
I think I imagined it, but—
I felt like someone was there.
My mouth opens. "Anna, I—"
The door opens with a soft click.
Both of us look up as Miss Masuza steps inside, smoothing down her lab coat in a way that's almost… nervous. She pauses just inside the doorway, glancing at Mr. Choi like she's unsure whether to interrupt.
"Um.. sorry," she says. Her voice is light, a little shy. "I need Norris in the lab for a bit. If that's alright."
Mr. Choi turns from the board, and something miraculous happens.
He smiles.
Not the polite, tight-lipped one. A real one. Bright enough that a few students exchange looks like they've just spotted a rare species in the wild.
"Oh, yes. Of course!" he says quickly. "Go ahead."
Miss Masuza smiles back, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
Right. That.
I suppress a tiny grin. Everyone knows. They think they're subtle. But they're really not.
Anna gathers her things and stands, giving me an apologetic look as she passes. "Later?" she whispers.
I nod, even though something sinks quietly in my chest as she leaves with Miss Masuza, the door closing softly behind them.
Later, I repeat to myself.
Always later.
Mr. Choi turns back to the board and the class resumes like nothing happened. Chalk moves. Numbers appear. Time keeps going.
I stare at my notebook again, my doodles blurring slightly as my thoughts wander back to everything I didn't say. The words I'd almost let out sit heavy in my throat.
I tilt my head, resting my cheek against my knuckles—and then I feel it.
That awareness. The one that makes you feel you're being watched.
I turn slowly.
Nathan is already looking at me.
Our eyes meet for barely a second, maybe less, but it's enough. His expression softens instantly, like he hadn't meant to be caught. Then he smiles.
Those dimples.
My stomach flips so abruptly I almost laugh. Heat rushes to my face, and I look away far too quickly. My heart is doing something stupid and fast and impossible to ignore.
Get a grip, I tell myself firmly.
I force my attention back to the page, but it's useless now. A smile tugs at my lips anyway—small, traitorous, impossible to stop.
I let it stay.
Just this once.