Warning: Mentions of death
This is a short story of mine you can find on Wattpad
The assembly had dragged on far too long.
By the time the students were finally dismissed, Rowan was more than ready to leave. He had slouched in his seat near the back of the room, one leg stretched out and crossed over the other, arms folded. His gaze had wandered up to the ceiling tiles, tracing the jagged cracks that spidered across the surface.
The detectives on stageâone human, one Vareshianâspeaking into a microphone, had spoken for what felt like an eternity, using calm but pointed phrases like "precautionary measures" and "working together" to describe the recent disappearance of a human student.
Rowan had barely paid attention. What was the point? It wasn't as if their words would change anything. Still, he had pretended to listen, flicking his eyes toward the stage every now and then.
The school always had an assembly whenever a human disappeared, humans going missing more frequently in the past six or so months, Rowan had lost count of the disappearances now.
From the corner of his eye, he saw Sam, his only real friend, shifting in his seat. Sam was hard to miss: loud, bright-eyed, and always fidgeting.
Sam's eyes flicked to the human students clustered at the front. Most of them were no taller than a Vareshian's hand. From this far back, they looked like toysâfrail, breakable. Rowan could see the tension in their tiny shoulders, their wide-eyed expressions as they clutched notebooks and whispered to each other.
It wasn't supposed to be like this. Their town prided itself on its integration, on the careful balance they'd struck between humans and Vareshians. It was a point of pride for both communities, a rare success story in a world full of divisions. Now, another missing human student was threatening to unravel it all.
"I don't like this," Sam muttered under his breath, leaning close to Rowan. "The way they're talking around it. Everyone knows they think it's a murder. Just say it already."
Rowan tilted his head,. "They're trying to keep it clean. No point spooking everyone, right?"
"I guess so~" Sam frowned, turning his attention back to the stage. Â
Now as he walked beside Sam, who was chattering nonstop as usual. Sam always seemed to be buzzing with energy, even when the rest of the world was drained. His hands moved as he talked, gesturing wildly as if the force of his words needed a visual aid.
Rowan kept his hands in his pockets, hunched against the chill in the air. Sam had been his only real friend since middle school, ever since they'd sat next to each other in history class and bonded over a shared disdain for group projects. Sam had a quick wit, a bright smile, and a sharp tongue that he wielded without hesitation. He was also one of the few openly gay Vareshians at their school, a fact that made him an easy target for bullies.
But Sam never seemed to care. He laughed off the jabs, turned them into jokes, and kept moving forward as if nothing could touch him. Rowan admired that about him. Sam's confidence was a shield, one Rowan wished he could borrow from time to time.
"Did you see the look on Mr. Dunham's face when the human detective said 'possible foul play'? I thought his eyes were going to pop out of his head," Sam said, laughing. "I mean, come on. They can't just tiptoe around it forever. Everyone knows that kid didn't just wander off."
Rowan shrugged, his gaze fixed on the sidewalk. The cracks in the pavement formed a web of lines that he followed with his eyes, one step at a time.
"Like I said, they're just trying to keep people calm," he looked toward Same beside him, his voice flat "They can't have the humans rebelling against us Vareshians the second they start realising it's definitely one of us."
"Yeah, but it's worse when they try to act like it's not a big deal. The humans are freaking out, and the Vareshians aren't much better. The whole town's on edge. I can feel it." Sam's voice softened, and he glanced sideways at Rowan. "I know you don't like talking about this stuff, but... you think they'll find out what happened?"
Rowan tilted his head, considering the question. "They'll figure it out eventually," he said. "Someone always slips up."
Sam nodded, his expression thoughtful. "Yeah, I guess you're right. It just... it sucks, you know? Everyone's acting like this place is falling apart. It used to feel so... normal. Like we had something good here. Now it's just..." He trailed off, kicking a small pebble down the sidewalk. "It's different."
Rowan said nothing, letting the silence stretch between them. The wind picked up, rustling the leaves of the trees that lined the street. The shadows grew longer as the sun sank lower, and Rowan adjusted his hood, pulling it up over his head.
"You heading home?" Sam asked after a while. "I'm going to grab something from the store before I head back."
"No," Rowan said. "I think I'll stop by Lila's place."
Sam grinned. "Tell her I said hi."
Rowan turned down the quiet side street where Lila lived. The last hints of daylight bled out of the sky, leaving a pale lavender wash over the rooftops.
Her house, tiny and doll-like, was tucked between a line of hedges. Its trim was painted a neat cream color, with tiny shutters framing each window and a door no taller than Rowan's shin.
As he approached, he slowed his pace, mindful not to send vibrations through the ground. He reached the sidewalk but stayed on the road, his strides too long, his body too massive to fit comfortably onto the narrow pavement that humans used.
Lila was waiting for him on the front steps of her small home, her small figure wrapped in a wool coat and scarf. She stepped forward when she saw him coming down her street, her tiny face lighting up, hands pushing back at her brown locks from her face.
Rowan stopped a short distance from the house, dropping into a crouch so she didn't have to crane her neck quite as far to look up at him. The distance between their worlds always felt most tangible in these moments, when he knelt on the street and she stood on her tiny patch of yard. But they'd learned to bridge that gap.
The neighbors all knew Rowan. For three years, they'd watched him come and go, his broad frame towering awkwardly over the tiny houses, but his quiet demeanor and careful movements had earned their trust.
The older couple next door to Lila's house even relied on him now and then. When a storm blew through, they'd call him over to pluck stray branches off their roof or to clear debris from their garden. It was never much work, and Rowan never complained. It was easier to keep things simple, to smile politely, he was just a good-natured boyfriend helping out his girlfriend's neighbors so that he could continue visiting.
Lila smiled, the kind of smile that made his chest ache.
Rowan dropped to both knees, resting his hands on his thighs. Even like this, he was huge compared to her, his shadow stretching across the neatly trimmed grass.
"Hey," he said softly, trying not to let his voice carry. He gestured with his hand, and without hesitation, Lila stepped onto his palm. She moved so lightly that he barely felt her weight, but her presence was unmistakable. The warmth of her body, the way her scarf fluttered as she settled down, sent a familiar ripple of calm through him. He lifted her carefully, bringing her up to his eye level.
"Hey," she replied, her voice bright but quiet. She adjusted her scarf, glancing down at the street below. "You're late."
"Sorry," Rowan murmured. "Got caught up at school." He shifted his knees, trying to balance on the uneven pavement. "How was your day?"
"Long," Lila said, settling herself comfortably in his hand. She tucked her knees up slightly, her hands resting in her lap. "Yours?"
He glanced toward the small streetlight down the block, its light flickering against the encroaching night. "Assembly. Some detectives came. Talked about... everything that's been going on."
Lila's smile faded. "What did they say?"
"Not much," Rowan replied, tilting his head so his hood slipped back slightly. "Just the usual stuffâbe careful, don't go anywhere alone, report anything suspicious."
She leaned forward, gripping one of his fingers. "It's scary," she said. "No one's saying it outright, but everyone's thinking it. If it was foul play, thenâ" She stopped herself, looking down at her hands.
Rowan shifted his weight again. The street felt too small. The human sector's streets were narrow and delicate, designed for their small frames. He could never walk the pavement without stepping into someone's path or stepping over a car, his presence turning the quiet neighborhoods into something fragile and uneasy.
His movements always felt deliberate and overly careful, like a predator trying not to scare its prey. The roads were better, but even there, every step reminded him that he didn't belong. It made visits like this more awkward than he liked to admit. He wished Lila would just come to his house, it was less awkward having her come to his house. But she enjoyed his visits, so he would continue these visits.
"Hey," he said, keeping his voice low. He brought her closer, so she could see his face. "It's okay."
Lila glanced up at him, "I know. It's just... this town always felt safe. And now..."
"It still is," Rowan said, his tone firmer. "You're safe."
She studied him for a moment, then let out a small sigh. "Thanks," she whispered, her fingers reaching out to briefly touch his thumb
Rowan hesitated, then leaned his face down slightly. His lips brushed against her small cheek, a quick, careful kiss trying not to overwhelm her. She laughed softly, pushing at his oversized lips. "You're ridiculous," she said, tilting her head to look up at him again.
"Yeah," Rowan said, a faint smile touching his lips. "Guess I am. I couldn't help myself"
Lila smiles, leaning into his fingers and humming. Her cheeks were pink, even still after three years she got flustered whenever he kissed her.
They stayed like that for a while longer, her small figure nestled in his hand as he sat hunched on the street. The faint hum of a small passing car reached them from several blocks away, a reminder of how quiet everything had become.
Finally, Lila shifted, her weight shifting in his palm. "I should probably head inside."
Rowan nodded and lowered her carefully back to the porch. She stepped off his hand, giving him a brief touch on the side of his thumb as if to say goodbye, "I love you"
"Love you too" He stayed crouched there for a moment longer, watching her climb the steps and disappear inside. The light in her tiny window flicked on, casting a faint golden glow over the hedges. With a long breath, Rowan stood, tugged his hood back up, and turned to walk down the small empty road.
Rowan left Lila's house just as the last faint streaks of light slipped below the horizon. He stuffed his hands into his hoodie pockets and walked in the middle of the road. It wasn't like he had much of a choice; the sidewalks in the human sector were barely wide enough for his foot, let alone his full stride. He'd gotten used to the looks whenever he came through here, the curtains twitching in the little houses, the humans craning their necks to see the Vareshian boy who stuck out like a sore thumb.
Some waved at him as he passed, familiar faces who had grown used to seeing him walk through the human sector, always taking the same roads.
He nodded back out of habit, his steps even, his posture calm. But the streets felt quieter now, windows darkened, doors shut tight. Humans were keeping to themselves, wary and tense, their routines disrupted by the recent disappearances. Where once there had been neighbors chatting on porches or children playing in the yard, there were only drawn curtains and the occasional glint of an eye peering out through a gap in the blinds. Rowan walked on, his pace unchanging, the silence settling around him like a second skin.
But it was late now, and most of the streets were empty. His boots echoed softly against the asphalt as he made his way back toward the larger parts of town.
He kept his head down, his hood casting a shadow over his face. The few streetlights that still worked flickered weakly, casting uneven pools of light on the cracked road. He moved with an easy, practiced rhythm, his long legs eating up the ground. If anyone was watching, they'd see nothing unusualâa tired high school senior heading home after visiting his girlfriend. That's all it looked like, and Rowan was fine with that. It was easier when things seemed normal.
Rowan's steps slowed as he crossed the invisible line separating the human sector from the Vareshian. The streets widened here, the buildings taller, doorways broad enough for his kind to enter without hunching or checking where they stepped first.
The air felt differentâstill, but heavier. Rows of lampposts glowed softly, illuminating the broad cobblestone avenues that replaced the narrow human streets. He adjusted his hood, pushing it back slightly as he looked around. Here, he didn't have to stoop or shuffle aside. Didn't have to hop over toy like cars or apologise for accidentally stepping on a mail box. The paths were made for him, and his footsteps no longer felt like intrusions. It was a small shift, but enough to ease the weight on his shoulders, even if only slightly.
The faint sound of wheels on pavement drew his attention. He nearly missed it, the clunk of chains and wheels spinning on the pavement. His eyes travelled the ground, spotting a small figure moving toward him. Up ahead, a human man was riding his bike along the edge of the road, a steady, predictable pace.
The man wore a reflective vest that caught the light, making him visible from a distance. He wasn't in any hurry, just heading home, probably from a late shift at the factory on the east side of town taking a detour through the giant Vareshian streets.
Rowan slowed his steps slightly, letting his gaze flick around the empty street. No cars. No lights in the nearby houses. Just him and the cyclist, alone in the stillness of the beginnings of the Vareshians sector
Rowan walked a little closer, his steps careful and measured. His face remained blank, his breathing even.
When the man's bike wobbled slightly over a crack in the pavement, Rowan stopped. He waited, watching as the man steadied himself, pedaled a few more feet, then slowed to adjust something on his handlebars. He was standing now, then crouching beside his bike, partly turned away from Rowan.
The human probably hadn't even noticed himâor maybe he did, and was simply ignoring him. Just a Vareshian boy trying to get home. Why would he think otherwise? The street was quiet, the night calm.
The heel of Rowan's boot came down in a smooth, unhurried motion. The man didn't have time to react; one second he was fiddling with his bike, the next he was a smear of red and crushed limbs beneath Rowan's heel.
The soft, brittle crunch beneath his heel was subtle but undeniable. Rowan shifted his weight, pressing down harder, the sensation sharp yet satisfying as the crack split further. He dragged his boot in slow, deliberate motions, grinding the fragments into the pavement. The faint vibration ran up his leg with each pass, a dull, rhythmic scrape that grew softer as the pieces wore down to almost nothing. He kept at it until all that remained was a rough smudge, blending into the uneven texture of the asphalt, his boot perfectly still once more.
The bicycle clattered sideways, bent and twisted under the weight. It was quick, almost reflexive, like scuffing out a mark on the ground. The blood spread into a streak beneath the boot, a dark stain against the dull gray of the road.
Rowan stood there for a moment, head still down, his shoulders relaxed. He didn't glance aroundâthere was no need. He'd made sure he was alone before he even started walking this route. He didn't think much about the man, or the bike, or the growing speck of red.
He stepped back, the sole of his boot leaving a faint, wet print with every step down the street. His strides remained steady, unbothered, as if he'd simply squashed a bug that had been in his way.
Rowan paused under a flickering streetlamp. At the top of his Vareshian street, Rowan glanced down at the bottom of his boot, the dark smear on the sole catching the faint glow of the streetlamp.
"Shit" He stepped onto a patch of grass growing along the curb and dragged his foot slowly back and forth. The damp blades brushed away the worst of it, leaving streaks in the dirt. He kept at it until the stain was faint enough to ignore, then straightened up and adjusted his hood, his hands sliding back into his pockets.
It was dark now the sun having disappeared completely beneath the horizon
By the time he reached his house, his mother was already in the kitchen, washing dishes.
She looked up as he entered, "hey sweetheart, at Lila's again?"
"Hey mum. Yeah, I was.." He kicked off his boots just inside the door, he reached down to grab them, careful not to let the dirt scatter across the floor.
Without further explanation, he headed to the bathroom. The door clicked shut behind him, and he turned on the light. His reflection in the mirror looked back at himâtired, shadowed, but otherwise unremarkable. He reached under the sink and pulled out the bleach and a scrub brush. The scent of the chemicals filled the small room as he crouched down, scrubbing the bottom of his boot with slow, deliberate strokes. His hands moved mechanically, his face blank.
When he was done, he rinsed the boot, watching the stained water swirl down the drain.
Rowan stood, rinsing the brush with more bleach and then placed the brush and bleach back under the sink. As he left the bathroom, the house was silent, the only sound his bare feet on the wooden floor.
He passed his mother again without a word and made his way to his room. Once there, he closed the door, leaned against it, and closed his eyes. The darkness pressed against him, a quiet, suffocating weight. He stayed like that for a long time, his breath slow and even.
Rowan lay sprawled on his mattress, one arm tucked behind his head, the other resting across his chest. The dim light of the streetlamp outside his window filtered through the blinds, casting pale streaks across his ceiling. He stared upward, his breathing slow, his room heavy with quiet. Thoughts of Lila lingered, delicate and fleeting.
Rowan rolled onto his side, the mattress creaking under his weight. He reached for his phone on the bedside table, its screen glowing softly as he unlocked it.
His fingers moved quickly, typing out a short message to Lila: I love you. Wish you were here x
He stared at the words for a moment before hitting send, the familiar blue bubble popping up on the screen. Placing the phone back down, he lay still again, the weight of his quiet room pressing in around him.
He could see her tiny figure on his palm, the warmth of her body against his skin, the way she'd smiled up at him before turning to go inside. It was a good memory, one that made him sigh in the stillness of his room.
But it was never just that. It couldn't be.
The image shifted, unbidden. He imagined her in his hand again, but not like before. Her little legs dangled over his fingers, her head resting against his thumb. This time, though, he wasn't holding her gently. His fingers tightened, pressing into her sides until she squirmed. The thought took on an almost physical weightâher breath catching, her voice a high, panicked squeak as his grip grew firmer. He could feel her struggle, the way her body resisted before giving in entirely. There was a sickly, surreal satisfaction to it, as if the power of it all belonged to someone else, not him.
His eyes closed, but the imagery didn't stop. He saw her tiny, fragile frame caught between his fingertips. Or maybe she wasn't in his hand anymore. Maybe she was pressed to his lips, her form disappearing between them. His jaw tightened slightly as the thought cameâher little body swallowed whole, her struggles vanishing into silence.
It was quick, and when it was over, the quiet returned, leaving nothing behind.
No proof, no memory. Just him, lying in bed, staring at the ceiling.
The idea was as fleeting as it was dark, flaring up and then fading. He took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling slowly. The ceiling above him was still the sameâcracked paint, faint shadows dancing across it. He blinked a few times, willing the images away. They dissolved like smoke, leaving only the memory of Lila as she was: small, smiling, warm in his hand. He sighed again, softer this time, and shifted on the mattress.
Some things weren't meant to be lingered on.
Three years. That's how long he'd been with Lila, and she believed every minute of it was real. But even now, lying alone in the dark, he couldn't muster guilt for using her. It was simple, really. What kind of monster would stay in a committed relationship for that longâtender moments, inside jokes, public affectionâif they had something to hide?
Surely a Vareshian who smiled as he held his tiny girlfriend in his hand couldn't be the same person responsible for the missing humans. The thought almost made him laugh, low and quiet, as he shifted on the mattress. Three years, and not once had anyone questioned him. She was his alibi, his excuse, his shield.
No one looked past that. No one ever would.
His attention turned to his phone again as the screen lit up with her name.
From Lila: Love you too! Wish I was there. How about I stay at yours tomorrow?
Rowan read the message a few times before typing out a simple reply, reassuring
Yeah, just tired and missing you. Sounds good. I'll pick you up after class and hits send.
