The mud clung to Sophie's skin long after she and Marcus stumbled back inside. Her hands shook as she tried to peel his soaked hoodie off him, the fabric heavy with rain and blood. Marcus didn't fight her, but his eyes were distant, hollow, as if some part of him was still out in the yard, staring down Ethan's grin.
"Sit," she ordered, her voice breaking. He obeyed, sinking onto the edge of her bed like a man too heavy for his own bones.
She cleaned his knuckles in silence. The skin was split, raw, caked with blood that wasn't all his. Sophie bit her lip so hard it bled, willing her hands to stay steady. Marcus flinched when the alcohol stung, but otherwise, he didn't move.
Finally, he whispered, "You shouldn't have stopped me."
Her head snapped up, tears burning. "If I hadn't, you would have killed him. And then what? You'd be in a cell, or worse—you'd be gone. Do you think I could survive that?"
His jaw tightened. "Maybe it would've ended it."
"No," she said fiercely, grabbing his face in her hands. "Killing him wouldn't end it. It would mean he wins. He wants to turn you into him. Don't you see that?"
Marcus's eyes glistened. "And what if I already am?"
The words cracked through her chest. She shook her head, desperate. "No. You're not him. You're mine. And I'll fight anyone—including you—who says otherwise."
His breath shuddered. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead to hers. "You're the only thing keeping me tethered. If you ever let go—" His voice broke. "There won't be anything left."
Sophie kissed him, salt from her tears mingling with the taste of blood on his lips. It was fierce, desperate, a promise and a plea all at once.
That night, Marcus stayed in her bed, his body curled around hers like a shield. But even in sleep, he trembled. His fingers clenched as though he were still fighting Ethan in the mud. Sophie stayed awake, her hand stroking his hair, whispering over and over: You're not his. You'll never be his.
At school the next day, the whispers were louder than ever. Rumors of the fight had spread. People spoke of Marcus like a ghost story—some said they'd seen blood, others swore they'd heard Ethan laughing through the storm.
Sophie ignored them all, but Marcus carried their stares like chains. At lunch, he sat with his hood pulled low, barely touching his food.
"Let them talk," Sophie said softly. "They don't know you."
Marcus's lips twisted in a bitter smile. "Maybe they know me better than I do."
Sophie wanted to argue, but then she felt it: eyes on her. She turned sharply, and across the cafeteria, Ethan sat at a table with his followers. His face was bruised, his lip split, but his grin was intact. He raised a finger to his lips, shushing her silently before turning back to his friends as if nothing had happened.
Sophie's blood went cold.
When she looked back at Marcus, he hadn't noticed. His eyes were fixed on the table, his hands trembling slightly.
She forced her voice steady. "Come to my house tonight. Promise me."
Marcus looked up, his expression unreadable. "What if I don't trust myself?"
"Then trust me," Sophie whispered.
That night, he came. He climbed through her window like always, but instead of pacing or breaking apart, he sat silently on the floor, his back against the wall. Sophie joined him, sliding down beside him. Their shoulders touched, and for a while, that was enough.
Until Marcus whispered, "He's under my skin, Sophie. Every time I close my eyes, I see him. And worse—I hear him. He sounds like me."
Sophie's tears fell silently. She reached for his hand, entwining her fingers with his. "Then I'll speak louder. I'll drown him out. Even if it breaks me, I'll never let his voice be the only one you hear."
Marcus turned to her, his eyes broken glass, and kissed her hand as though it were the only thing keeping him alive.
But outside, Sophie swore she saw a shadow move beneath the streetlamp.
Ethan was still there. Waiting.
And Sophie knew the war wasn't just beneath Marcus's skin anymore. It was beneath hers too.
The shadow under the streetlamp stretched, long and unnatural, and Sophie's breath caught. She almost shook Marcus awake, but he was finally asleep, his head against her shoulder. His chest rose and fell in uneven waves, a man still caught in battle even in dreams.
She didn't dare move. Didn't dare blink. But the shadow stayed.
Hours crawled by. When dawn finally broke, the street was empty again. Sophie's body ached from holding still, but her heart ached more. She knew Ethan hadn't left. He had only retreated further into the cracks between reality and nightmare.
At school, Marcus was quieter than usual, and Sophie hated that silence more than his anger. Anger she could fight, but silence felt like surrender. She scribbled a note on the corner of her notebook, shoving it toward him in class: Come to me tonight. Don't disappear again.
Marcus's jaw tightened as he read it. He didn't look at her, but he nodded.
That night, Sophie waited. And waited.
The minutes bled into hours, and still he didn't come. Her chest grew tighter with each passing second, her breaths shallow. At two in the morning, her window creaked open. Relief flooded her, until she saw the figure climbing inside.
It wasn't Marcus.
Ethan swung his legs through her window with the casualness of someone who belonged there. His bruises were still vivid, but his smile was intact, sharp as broken glass.
"Miss me?" he whispered.
Sophie's scream stuck in her throat. She backed against the wall, heart pounding so loud she thought it would wake the whole neighborhood. "Get out."
He tilted his head, mock hurt in his expression. "That's not very welcoming. I came all this way. Thought maybe you'd want some company since Marcus seems… distracted."
Her hands clenched. "Where is he?"
Ethan's smile widened. "With me."
Her stomach dropped. "You're lying."
"Am I?" His voice was velvet, low and steady. "Do you know where he is right now? Do you feel him?"
She wanted to scream no, wanted to throw something at him, but she couldn't move.
Ethan took another step, closing the distance. "He's slipping, Sophie. Every day, every hour. You think your love is enough to hold him? You think your kisses, your tears, your fragile little words can outlast me? I was here before you. I'll be here long after you're gone."
Sophie's hands trembled, but she forced herself to meet his gaze. "You'll never have him."
Ethan laughed softly, shaking his head. "You don't understand. I don't want to have him. I want to be him. And when that happens, when the last wall between us crumbles, you won't even know the difference."
Her breath hitched. "I'd know."
He leaned in, his lips inches from hers, his voice a whisper. "Would you?"
Before she could shove him back, the window slammed open again.
Marcus stood there, chest heaving, eyes wild. His gaze flicked from Sophie to Ethan, and the sound that tore from his throat was inhuman.
He lunged.
The room exploded in chaos. Furniture toppled, books scattered, glass shattered as Marcus tackled Ethan to the floor. Sophie screamed, grabbing for Marcus, but he was beyond reason. His fists fell like thunder, each one tearing pieces of Ethan's face apart—yet Ethan laughed through the blood, each sound more chilling than the last.
"You see?" Ethan gasped between blows, his grin never fading. "You're already mine."
Marcus roared, raising his fist again, but Sophie grabbed his arm with both hands, yanking with all her strength. "Marcus, stop! He's not worth it! Don't let him turn you into him!"
For a second, Marcus froze. His arm shook violently, his breath ragged.
Ethan, blood pooling beneath him, smiled wider. "You can't save him, Sophie. Sooner or later, he'll crawl back to me. And when he does, you'll be the one to blame."
Sophie's fury snapped. She grabbed a shard of broken glass from the floor and pressed it against Ethan's throat. Her hand shook, but her voice was steady. "Get out. Or I swear I'll finish what Marcus started."
Ethan's eyes gleamed. He tilted his head against the shard, letting a thin line of blood bloom across his skin. "There she is. Finally. You're not so different after all."
Sophie pressed harder, tears streaming down her face. "I am nothing like you."
He chuckled, then in one fluid motion, rolled out from under Marcus and slipped toward the window. Blood dripped from his lip as he perched on the sill, grinning down at them.
"You'll break," he promised softly. "Both of you. And when you do, I'll be waiting."
Then he was gone, swallowed by the night.
Silence crashed down, heavy and suffocating. Marcus collapsed onto the floor, his hands in his hair, rocking back and forth. "He's right. He's right. I can't fight him."
Sophie dropped the shard of glass and crawled to him, grabbing his face in both hands. "Listen to me. He only wins if you believe him. Do you hear me? You are not him. You are you. And you are mine."
Marcus's tears spilled freely. "I'm scared, Sophie. I'm so scared."
She pulled him into her arms, holding him as tight as she could. "Then let me be scared with you. We'll fight together. As long as you don't let go of me, I won't let go of you."
They clung to each other in the wreckage of her room, two broken souls against the darkness pressing in from every side.
But Sophie knew, deep down, that Ethan was right about one thing: the cracks were widening. And if they didn't find a way to seal them soon, the darkness would devour them both.