(The moment their paths finally cross)
Kade
There were three places on campus where Kade could exist without being noticed:
The corner table in the library, second floor, near the dusty globe no one ever touched.
The bench behind the gym, shielded by a rusting fence and a dying oak.
The second stall in the upstairs boys' bathroom, the one with the broken lock but just enough graffiti to feel like a shield.
Today, it was the library.
He'd chosen it out of habit, not preference. It was raining again—the kind of slow, crawling drizzle that made the world feel muffled. The sound of it against the windowpane reminded him of the nights he curled up under thin blankets, trying not to breathe too loudly.
His hood was up. Earbuds in. No music playing—he just wore them so no one would talk to him.
Kade's eyes flicked over the page of the book in front of him—Blood Meridian. He liked McCarthy's violence, the way it was clinical, biblical, unflinching. It didn't pretend. It was raw. Honest.
He didn't notice the footsteps at first.
Then… heels.
Click.
Click.
Click.
The rhythm was too deliberate for a librarian. Too confident for a student. Each step was precise, slicing through the quiet like a scalpel.
He didn't look up. He didn't dare.
Attention was the gateway to mockery.
But the steps didn't fade.
They stopped.
Right. Next. To him.
And something… changed.
Like the air thickened. Like the library, normally stale and heavy with dust and old ink, had been pierced by something electric.
He could feel her watching him.
He willed himself not to lift his head.
His fingers gripped the pages tighter.
"Hi," came a voice.
Soft. Silk layered over sharp teeth.
He looked up.
And for the first time in years, Kade forgot how to breathe.
Viera
There he was again.
The boy in black. The ghost with the hurricane shoulders and glacier eyes.
She didn't know what compelled her to follow him. She wasn't even supposed to be in the library—Maya had been waiting by the vending machines. But something about the way he moved, like he was a threat barely leashed, drew her.
She hated mysteries.
They made her feel out of control.
And this boy?
He was a question she had no answer for.
So she walked straight up to him.
Stood in front of the table, waiting.
No reaction.
She could've screamed. Thrown a book.
Instead, she said, "Hi."
When he looked up, the effect was immediate and visceral.
Not because he was pretty. He wasn't just pretty. He was devastating.
Pale skin, cracked lips, stubble like he didn't care enough to shave. Long lashes. High cheekbones. And his eyes—gray-blue, like the ocean before a storm. But more than that, there was a haunted quality to him. A rawness.
Like he'd just crawled out of something terrible and never finished healing.
For a second, she forgot how to speak.
And then she realized so did he.
Kade
Her eyes were green.
But not the flat green of grass or the bright green of soda bottles. No. They were deep—forests in late autumn, shadows tangled in leaves, ancient and sharp.
She was the most beautiful person he'd ever seen.
Not because of symmetry.
Because of force.
Viera Hollow didn't walk into rooms. She entered them like declarations. She carried herself like a woman who knew the value of every breath she took and expected the world to pay her for it.
And she was looking at him like he was an anomaly.
A riddle.
A toy she hadn't figured out yet.
He opened his mouth to say something—anything—but all that came out was:
"…Yeah?"
Yeah. Brilliant. Fucking poetry.
She smiled.
And Kade felt it in his spine.
Viera
He was scared.
Not of her. Not exactly.
But scared of being seen. Scared of what it meant to exist in her spotlight.
That made her curious.
She tilted her head. "Do you always hide in corners, or is this just a Tuesday ritual?"
Kade blinked. She watched the way he swallowed. The way his shoulders—so strong—hunched like he was trying to make himself smaller.
"Just like the quiet," he muttered.
Liar. His voice was quiet, but steady. It didn't shake. But it folded in on itself. Like everything about him.
Viera stepped closer.
Kade's knuckles tensed where they gripped the book.
"I'm Viera," she said softly.
"…I know."
He didn't say it like a fan. He said it like a fact. Like someone who's noticed her but never expected the noticing to be mutual.
She let the silence hang for a moment.
Then—
"You're Kade, right?"
His brows twitched. He nodded.
And for just a flicker of a second, he looked… vulnerable.
Not in a weak way. In the way statues do when the light hits their cracks.
Kade
She said his name like it mattered.
No one said his name like that.
Usually, it was a muttered roll call. Or a sneered insult. Sometimes, his father barked it when drunk—but that was more of a weapon than a name.
But Viera?
She said "Kade" like it was a secret worth whispering.
He wanted to crawl inside that voice and disappear.
"…Why are you here?" he asked.
It came out rougher than intended.
She didn't flinch.
She smirked. "Told you. Curious."
He felt heat rise in his cheeks.
Fuck.
She was going to destroy him.
Viera
She watched his ears go pink.
Interesting.
So he could blush.
Cute.
Too cute.
She took a step back before she did something stupid. Like sit down. Like ask about his book. Like reach out and touch that ridiculous lock of hair falling across his forehead.
She needed time.
She needed strategy.
"You'll see me again," she said simply, like a promise.
Not a question. Not a wish.
Then she turned and walked away.
Didn't look back.
Didn't have to.
Because something in her knew—
He was still watching.
Kade
She left like a queen departing her court.
He stared at the place she'd stood for a long time.
Still holding the same page in his book. Still breathing too hard. Still not quite sure if it had really happened.
She was real.
She was real.
And she'd looked at him.
Talked to him.
Said his name.
The library was still silent.
But inside Kade's chest?
Something had cracked.
And for the first time in years…
He felt seen.
End of Chapter 3
Next: Chapter 4 – Small Moments