Hand still on the doorknob, muscles locked. The metal felt colder than it should. Like it had been left out in the snow.
He didn't breathe. Didn't move. For a heartbeat too long, it was just him and whatever the hell was standing on the other side of that door - or not standing. Just… being. Waiting.
A dry click of his tongue, then a forced exhale.
"Nope."
Without another glance at the door, Bennett turned sharply and made his way back down the hall. Quick steps, but not quite running. He didn't want to give whatever weird, crawling instinct this was the satisfaction.
Outside, the world remained quiet. Too quiet, honestly.
The kind of stillness that feels like it will fuck you as soon as you speak up.
As he hopped back onto his bike, the air felt colder than it had ten minutes ago. The streets were still empty - not surprising. But the dark… that was surprising. It wasn't lighter than before. If anything, the black seemed thicker. Almost like some dark liquid. As if the sun had second thoughts about showing up today.
Still, his phone said it was a few minutes past 5:30. Dawn should've cracked by now.
But it didn't.
He glanced up. The stars were still there - faint and distant - but the moon was still gone. Erased. No clouds, no fog, no light pollution. Just... missing.
And worst of all, no one else seemed to notice.
Because slowly, finally, people had begun to appear. Distant figures walking down sidewalks, students gathering at bus stops, cars rumbling lazily awake. Normal life is pulling itself together.
But not one of them looked up.
Not one of them seemed to realize that the sky was wrong.
Bennett kept pedaling, hugging the curb, the wind scratching at his skin. He wanted to scoff, to laugh it off.
"I should've slept more. This is what happens when you don't take care of yourself, Bennett."
But even then, the tightness in his chest didn't care about logic. It just wanted distance. From the apartment. From that door. From… whatever that was.
The university wasn't far. Ten, maybe fifteen minutes at his pace. The library building loomed as it always did - big glass windows, pale blue walls, modern and sterile like something halfway between a high school and a hospital.
It was open. The library ran early hours on Sundays for the students who love studying more than life.
Bennett chained his bike near the main courtyard, tugged down his hoodie, and tried not to look like he hadn't slept properly in three days even if the eye bags kinda ruin the secrecy.
He stepped through the front entrance, blinking at the sudden change in lighting. Fluorescents again, bright and white and too clinical too. His headphones slipped down around his neck with a soft click as he approached the check-in counter.
A bored-looking student worker sat behind the desk, typing something with one hand and eating a granola bar with the other.
"ID?" she asked without looking up.
Bennett handed it over. No words. Just a nod.
The scanner beeped, the screen flashed green, and she waved him through.
Simple. Uncomplicated. Normal.
He appreciated that.
Inside, the library smelled like paper, despair, and old coffee. It was almost completely quiet. Just the soft hum of machines and the occasional clack of a keyboard were reminders of the world.
There were already a handful of students scattered at tables and booths - most of them hunched over textbooks, dead-eyed and caffeinated into oblivion.
Bennett didn't want to be alone. Not after whatever that… thing had been. But he didn't want attention either. So he found a spot near the back - a long table with a few other students already sitting, lost in their own personal battles against deadlines and doom.
Nobody looked at him. Nobody cared how pale he looked or how tense his shoulders were. One girl sniffled. Someone coughed. Another guy was eating a sad little sandwich out of his bag.
He was invisible.
And right now, that was perfect.
Bennett slid into the chair, set his bag down, and let his body slouch just a little. He took out a battered pill bottle - strong stuff, something over-the-counter that shouldn't be taken on an empty stomach but was anyway. Alongside it, there are two caffeine tabs, because why the hell not? He dry-swallowed them both with a grimace, then let his head rest against the cold surface of the table.
His heartbeat echoed in his ears. Thump. Thump. Thump.
'Just a migraine. Just stress. Too much work. Not enough sleep. Everything's fine. I just need a bit of rest.'
He stared at nothing. At the shelves in the distance. At the large clock on the far wall. At the high windows letting in a light that didn't seem to brighten anything.
It was still dark.
Not midnight-dark, no. It looked like morning on the surface - but the color of the light was wrong. Like someone had bled the warmth out of it. Muted. Gray. Flat.
And yet… no one else noticed.
Not the girl highlighting her textbook with robotic precision. Not the guy two seats away typing furiously on his laptop. No one paused to look outside. No one questioned the strange, off-kilter quality of the world around them.
Just him.
Bennett felt his stomach twist.
'This is fine. Totally fine.'
His fingers tightened around the edge of the table.
Then loosened.
And for a brief moment, things felt almost okay again. He felt relieved to be away from whatever that thing in his flat was. He was content with staying in a place he usually thought to be disgusting.
And for a while he found comfort.
Until his vision started blurring.
He blinked. Rubbed his eyes. Sat up straighter.
But the dark crept in anyway.
From the edges of his vision, like smoke curling inward. Slow, deliberate, unstoppable. His limbs felt heavy. The noise around him dulled.
Someone said something. A voice. Light. Distant.
Were they talking to him?
He turned slightly. A small group of students across the room. Someone waved. A blur of a hand. A face maybe familiar.
His lips moved, but no sound came out.
The shadows swallowed the corners of the room.
The floor wavered beneath him. His hands slipped from the table.
And then - silence.
Bennett fell forward, limp and quiet.
The library didn't notice.
Nobody did.
After all, there was nobody left.
Just Bennett, and his mind. And his thoughts. And his desires and dreams and all of his life's memories.
They are all here. In this emptiness, locked in like cattle. Toyed with by the emptiness surrounding them. An eternal limbo of nothingness.
And it lasts for long.
And longer and longer and longer.
Nothing left but darkness, and the echo of something waiting at the edge.
Blink.
A voice, soft and muffled, like underwater breath.
"Time to wake up."
Blink.
Pressure builds behind his eyes. Not pain-just... gravity.
"Ben, I beg of you. Wake up."
Blink.
The dark folds inward.
"Wake up!"
With a sharp jolt, faster than felt natural, Bennett shot upright. His breath came ragged, chest heaving like he'd just sprinted through a thunderstorm. Each heartbeat throbbed with a raw, sharp pressure that pulsed through his skull.
He was drenched in sweat. His clothes - rough, unfamiliar - clung to him like a second skin, damp and uncomfortable.
His eyes darted around, trying to make sense of where he was. But the world refused to come into focus. Everything was a smear of shadow and light. Blurred shapes. Nothing solid.
'Did I overdose on those meds again?'
His head ached. Not like a normal headache - this one crawled deep, like something gnawing at the inside of his skull.
He reached out. Felt around. The air was warm. The ground beneath him was soft, like a mattress left out in the heat. Fabric met his fingertips. He spread his hands, grounding himself in the texture.
But then - something else.
Arms. Around him. Gently, slowly, deliberately wrapping around his shoulders. Not aggressive. Not tight.
But wrong.
Every part of him tensed. His breath hitched. He didn't know who was touching him. Didn't know where he was. And that alone made the fear crawl up his spine like ice water.
He wanted to move. To pull away. But he couldn't.
His limbs felt heavy. Too heavy. Like the weight of weeks had collapsed on top of him all at once. The late nights. The papers. The stress. The emptiness. Burnout, dragging him down like chains around his wrists.
And then - a voice.
"It's alright, Ben. I'm here. You're okay. I will always be here."
Soft. Calm. Almost kind.
A woman's voice. One he didn't recognize.
Something inside him lurched.
Hope tried to bubble up - maybe he collapsed at the library. Maybe someone found him. Maybe this was help. A friend perhaps.
But that hope vanished almost as fast as it came.
'You don't have friends, remember? Always thought you wouldn't need them, didn't you?'
The thought hit him like a slap. Cold and real. But even then -
'Who he hell is this?'
His pulse climbed again. He clenched his jaw, trying to breathe steady. Trying not to let the fear show.
Whoever she was, he didn't want her to know how afraid he was. Didn't want to give her anything she could use aganst him.
Not yet.
So he tried to speak, even though his throat felt like sandpaper. Even though he would rather fall back into the invitation of sleep.
"What happened?" His voice was rough, barely audible, like something torn from a broken speaker. But it was something. He needed something - answers, orientation, control.
Bu instead he got silence.
It was long enough to make his skin crawl. Long enough to make his panic rise.
'Shit. Why isn't she saying anything? Did I do something wrong?'
Thoughts flashed in rapidly - plans for escapes, bargains for his life, pleas for mercy he hadn't even yet formed. His heart started racing again, the warmth embracing him grew hot, suffocating, as he waited for an answer. Any answer.
And then - something warm dripped onto his face.
'Oh shit. I'm fucked.'
Before the thought could settle, the embrace shifted. Tighter. Closer. No longer gentle - more intense now. Intentional even.
And then a scream.
"Ben!"
The voice wasn't soft this time. It cracked - sharp, hoarse, like it had been screaming for years and only just found breath again.
Then came the grip: desperate, trembling, a clutch that wasn't just affection - it had a tinge of desperation too. Her arms tightened around him almost like if she let go, the world would take him away again.
He felt her shaking. Not just her arms - her whole body. It was the kind of trembling born from sleepless nights and too many prayers into an empty room. The kind that didn't stop, even when hope came true.
He knew them well after all.
Hot tears continued splashing onto his face. Stifled sobs breaking loose like a crack in glass.
"You spoke. You spoke," she whispered, over and over, as if repeating it might keep it real.
"You're here. You're really - " She couldn't finish. Her voice kept folding in on itself, swallowed by something too big to name.
Bennett didn't speak. Couldn't. Every cell in his body was frozen, wired tight, waiting for the twist. The reveal. The catch.
But there was nothing. No threat. No looming danger. Just her grief - raw and unrelenting. The way she held him, the way she sobbed - it was endless. All affection, all sorrow. All for him.
So even in his ignorance to her situation - he relaxed. But only a little.