The hallway was silent, broken only by the faint hum of fluorescent lights and the distant sound of traffic outside the school gates. Dust floated lazily in the air, illuminated by the sunlight that filtered through the old windows. Denver stood at the classroom door, her fingers gripping the edge of the frame as her heart began to pound.
She wasn't scared of ghosts, kind of but what she saw inside the classroom made her instincts scream. The tables, the chairs, the teacher's podium and even a few textbooks they were all floating. They hovered around a boy standing at the center of the room, his back facing her. The objects rotated slowly, as if obeying an invisible orbit, like planets around a sun. He stood perfectly still as if this was normal.
Denver swallowed.
"…A gift user?" she whispered.
Her footsteps were light as she stepped into the room, but the wooden floor still creaked under her weight. The floating objects trembled slightly, reacting to her presence then the boy turned around and for a moment, Denver forgot how to breathe.
He was beautiful, not in a soft, friendly way like the boys she knew at school but in an unreal, almost inhuman way. His green hair was slightly messy, but it somehow looked intentional, like it was styled by the wind itself. His eyes were a strange yellow green, glowing faintly, like light trapped inside emerald glass.
His skin was smooth and pale, his features sharp and elegant. His side profile looked like something sculpted by an artist who had never seen a flaw in their life.
He looked like a noble or a prince from another world, as his gaze met hers, and the floating chairs and tables froze mid air. For a few seconds, neither of them spoke they just stared at each other.
"Who are you? You're not supposed to be here," the boy said.
His voice was calm and soft.
Denver blinked. "I could say the same thing."
He tilted his head slightly, as if evaluating her. "This place is closed."
"Yeah, I noticed," she replied, glancing at the sleeping guard outside the building. "The security of this school is terrible."
"You saw that?" he asked.
"The guard? Yeah, he's always been like that still useless."
He looked at the floating furniture and sighed.
"I meant this," he corrected.
The chairs began to slowly lower, landing on the floor one by one. The tables gently returned to their places and everything settled without a single sound, as if gravity had been politely restored.
Denver's eyes widened.
"Telekinesis."
She had heard about it before, but seeing it in person was completely different.
"So you're a gift user?" she said quietly.
His eyes narrowed slightly. "Oh why? are you a big fan? sorry but I don't do autographs."
"No thanks." she replied, stuffing her hands into her jacket pockets. "My brother is though..."
He stared at her for a moment, then walked toward the window and leaned against the wall, crossing his arms.
He studied her carefully. "Are you not scared of me?"
"Should I be?"
He hesitated.
"…No."
She walked into the classroom and sat on one of the chairs, testing if it would suddenly float again. It didn't.
"So," she said, trying to sound casual, "what are you doing here? practicing your superpower alone in a haunted classroom?"
He looked away.
"I'm not practicing, I'm looking for something" he said.
Denver snorted. "What are you looking for?"
"None of your business"
"Well fair enough" Denver was expecting a proper answer though.
"You're weird," he said.
"Wow, thanks I get that a lot."
He walked closer, stopping a few steps away from her. Up close, his presence felt heavy, like the air itself was thicker around him.
"What's your name?" She asked.
"…Lance."
Denver paused, as if memorizing it. "I'm-"
She stopped.
"…Call me Danny."
"Is that your real name?" he asked curiously.
"It doesn't matter." she said.
"So, Lance," she said, leaning back on the chair, "are you famous?"
His eyes widened slightly.
"So you really don't know who I am?"
"Yeah, unfortunately I don't, why? are you some big shot like the Zen Clan?."
He stared at her again, more carefully this time.
"More or less"
She hesitated. "Really?"
Lance let out a small sigh, as if explaining it would be a hassle. "Something like that."
"That's suspiciously vague."
"It's supposed to be." he replied back.
Denver stared at him for a moment, then shrugged. "Cool I don't care enough to dig into your tragic mysterious past."
"…You're really not normal."
"You already said that."
He looked at her again, this time with faint annoyance.
"So," she continued, tapping her foot against the chair leg, "if you're some big shot, why are you here alone in an abandoned classroom instead of, I don't know, being worshipped by fans or whatever?"
He looked away, gaze drifting toward the dusty desks.
"People are loud it annoys me," he said simply.
"That's your reason?"
"Yes." he said plainly.
"That's a lame reason."
"…You're loud too."
"Wow and your rude."
A brief silence followed, the sunlight shifted, casting long shadows across the floor. He didn't respond, but the air around him felt heavier for a moment.
"…And you?" he asked. "Why are you here?"
She paused.
"Just passing by," she lied.
He narrowed his eyes slightly, clearly not buying it.
"You don't look like someone who just passes by places like this," he said quietly, "Are you one of the spies?"
The air changed.
At first, Denver thought it was just her imagination. Then the chalk on the board lifted, dust swirling in a slow spiral. The desks creaked, chairs trembled and one by one, they began to float.
Her heart dropped he was actually serious. His yellow green eyes glowed brighter, his green hair swaying as if stirred by an unseen wind. The classroom felt like it was being pulled into his orbit.
"No, hey really, I was just passing by," she said quickly, raising both hands. "For real, for real."
He stared at her, his gaze sharp enough to cut through lies.
Then, slowly, the objects descended, chairs returned to the floor, desks landed in place and the chalk dust settled.
The pressure vanished.
"Look, I'll just leave, okay? Okay," she muttered.
She stood up and quietly walked toward the exit, careful not to provoke him again. Just as her hand touched the door, his voice stopped her.
"Hey… Danny."
She turned back.
"Don't come back here ever again."
His tone wasn't threatening, it was absolute.
"…Scary,"
She didn't question him, she didn't argue. She simply opened the door, stepped out, and shut it behind her. Then she ran the sky outside was painted in deep orange. The sun was already dipping into the horizon.
"Eh? Was I gone for that long?" she muttered while sprinting down the street.
Her legs felt like jelly, her lungs burning, but she didn't slow down. Halfway home, she noticed three familiar figures on the sidewalk. It was Noah, Dirk, and Allan. They stared at her as she dashed past, her hood pulled low, hair flying behind her.
"…Was that Dion's girlfriend?" Noah asked.
"Nah," Dirk replied, squinting. "Probably some weird woman exercising."
Allan shrugged. "We should also start exercising."
Denver didn't hear any of it she just kept running. A kilometer felt like eternity, she didn't to commute partly because she is incapable of doing that, and also partly because she was completely broke. By the time she reached her house, she looked like someone who had just escaped death.
She pushed the door open and staggered inside.
Mom looked up from the living room. "You're late. Where did you go"
Denver walked past her without answering she climbed the stairs like a zombie, slammed her bedroom door shut, and collapsed on her bed half alive.
The next morning Denver woke up to Dion shaking her shoulder violently.
"Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!"
"What…?" she groaned, eyes half-closed.
"Turn on the TV."
She frowned but had to go down stairs grabbed the remote then she turned the TV on the screen flickered on and then she froze.
Breaking News: Unexplained Destruction at Former West bridge High School.
The camera showed the familiar building her previous school or what was left of it.