kyle

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Dear Diary,

I had a dream last night. I dreamt of him again, the one who will cure me, the one who will save me. I can never see his face, but I have seen his eyes. Those eyes speak to me, they beg me to hurry up and find the face that goes with them, they urge me to come to my senses, to recognize the truth of what is before me. I have to suppress it for now, though. But when my own eyes meet those of my savior, I will know. My hunger will be satiated.

- Y/n

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

It was a cool fall day on campus, the gusty wind scattering leaves about in mesmerizing patterns. Your gaze fell on a singular reddish-orange leaf in particular, it was just so bright. Already late for class, you strode on over to the tree from which the leaf resided, and with one gentle tug you plucked the pretty thing. Rolling the stem in your fingers, you examined your small prize, smiling as you did so. Lately you were taking greater appreciation for the smaller things in life, even if they did happen to be as fleeting as leaves in autumn. A sudden chill struck through your bones as you stood there, a reminder of the chilly weather about you. Shivering, you tucked the leaf in your coat pocket and hurried away into the main building and the delightful heat which it held.

For some reason, you had enrolled in an art class. Well, if we're being honest here, you did know, but the thought of your reasoning was simply something you refused to dwell on for too long. Either way, it was one of the more relaxed classes, and you were hoping to make some friends at last. After a long, tiring day of essential classes, it was truly a joy to spend some time doing something you actually enjoyed. And here you were, slipping into the room, an early arrival. Tossing your things down in a seat near the window, you meandered the classroom, admiring a few of the displayed works made by students in previous years. A little statuette caught your eye, made of clay and shaped in the form of a sleeping woman, you felt a sense of peace wash over as you gazed at it. The arrival of your fellow classmates made you jump a little, your body stiffening as they filed in. 'Just breathe.' You told yourself, trying to overcome the rush of anxiety. Fortunately, it seemed that none of these students took a particular notice to you, as they all appeared to be engaged in conversations with one another, a luxury that made your stomach flip.

Your mind seemed hazy, thoughts wandering where you didn't want them to go, unable to focus on whatever the teacher was saying until you heard him clear his throat, "Ahem, Y/n, we're gonna start partnering up now." Your cheeks burned hot, palms suddenly slick with sweat, you gave a shaky nod and peered across the room and into the sea of eyes that were all looking at you. Your stomach was completely in knots now, your brain barely able to keep up as you panicked in silence. There, practically two feet behind you, sat a young man who appeared to have no partner (or any interest in this class, to be honest). Adrenaline rushed through you as you opened your mouth to ask the guy if he needed a partner. And that's how you found yourself awkwardly sitting across the stranger, a charcoal pencil locked between trembling fingers. Ah, yes, you were a legendary artist in the making.

He was silent. You were silent. It was awkward. You never were the greatest at making friends, and even worse at acting like a normal human being, and now this situation felt like your own sort of personal hell. Focusing on the task at hand, your fingers clumsily worked along in quick, defined strokes. A voice broke your concentration, "You're practically hiding behind that drawing pad." You flinched, a sound escaping your throat, an attempt at a laugh it seemed. "Sorry." You whispered, not really wanting to make conversation. Hadn't you wanted to make friends? Weren't you trying to overcome this feeling of dread within you? Yes, but now, with him, it was all too much. You rushed the sketch and quickly flipped the paper in your partner's direction, practically shoving it into his hands. The bell rang, and like Houdini, you vanished.

'Ah, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…!' Your heels slammed into the sidewalk as you fled the campus, coat thrown on and backpack slung across your shoulder haphazardly. You could feel one of your textbooks digging into your shoulder blade, but now was no time to stop and adjust it. Down the street you went, your mind a blur, only focused on one thing; getting home. Breath came out in shuddering gasps as you finally turned at the corner of your apartment, jamming the key into the lock, you practically threw yourself inside, slamming the door behind you and sinking down against it. Your hand slipped into your pocket, carefully extracting the leaf that you saved. Gentle fingers traced against the visible venules, your eyes taking in the leaf's distinct color. A frenzied giggle broke loose from your chest, and so did an overwhelming sense of fear. You knew. You had watched for days, months even, always keeping a careful log of things, always remaining at a distance. But this changed everything, this was your sign.