It had been almost three days since what happened at the track.
Thursday morning felt far enough away now that Magnus had almost managed to convince himself it hadn't really happened. Stress. Lack of sleep. System-induced paranoia. Take your pick. By Saturday afternoon, he'd even started to believe it.
Then it happened again.
He and Alex were walking back from Riley's studio, hands loosely linked, the city settling into that late-afternoon lull where the light went soft and the air felt heavier. Magnus was halfway through thinking — vaguely, stupidly — that things felt… normal.
…Then a figure appeared!
No warning. No transition. One second the sidewalk was empty; the next, someone was right in front of him.
Hands clamped down on both his shoulders.
Magnus jerked, breath ripping out of him as the figure leaned in far too close, its face indistinct and wrong in a way his brain refused to finish processing. The voice came next — hoarse, urgent, half-whisper and half-shout, echoing like it wasn't fully there.
"I used to think there were lines we're never meant to cross, too," it said. Then, sharper, almost desperate: "Look where it got me!"
Magnus froze.
"The System doesn't care about your lines and boundaries, man," the figure went on. "Survival is all that matters!"
And then it was gone.
Just… gone. No fade, no movement away. One blink and the space in front of him was empty again, the sidewalk uninterrupted, people passing by like nothing had happened.
Exactly like the time at the track!
Magnus staggered half a step, heart slamming against his ribs, breath coming too fast. His fingers tightened reflexively around Alex's hand.
"Magnus?" she said immediately. "Hey, what's wrong?"
He tried to answer. Nothing came out.
That was enough for Alex. She tugged gently but firmly, steering him toward the nearest bus stop and sitting him down on the bench before he could argue.
"Hey. Hey," she said, crouching in front of him, hands bracketing his knees to keep him grounded. "Breathe. With me."
It took a few minutes. Longer than either of them liked. But eventually, the worst of the shaking passed. Magnus dragged a hand down his face, swallowing hard, forcing himself back into the present.
"I—I'm okay," he said automatically. Then corrected himself. "No. I'm not okay! But I can talk."
Alex didn't interrupt. She just waited.
"It happened again," he said quietly. "Like at the track. Something showed up… Grabbed me."
Her expression sharpened, but she stayed silent.
He exhaled. Inhaled. Exhaled again.
"It said…" He frowned, trying to reconstruct the words. "…Stuff like 'I used to think there were lines we shouldn't cross.' And…" He hesitated, then repeated it anyway. "'The System doesn't care about boundaries. Survival is all that matters.'"
Alex's jaw tightened. She didn't respond right away.
Silence fell as they both let it sink in.
"What he said bothered me," she said after a while. "Do you think he could've been like you — someone with a System, I mean?"
"I don't know. Maybe." Magnus stared down at his hands. Then his head snapped up. "Wait! Remember what Riley — well, her aunt — said yesterday—"
"—students our ages, dying of cardiac arrest?" Alex supplied.
"Yeah. That." His mouth twisted. "The exact wording for failure penalties — the System calls it 'heart failure.'" He made air quotes, then winced, deliberately not saying the rest of the wording about "excruciating pain." She had been there when he died last time. There was no reason to drag them both through that again. Instead, he continued, quieter:
"Do you think…?"
The question hung there, unfinished. Silence settled between them again, heavier this time.
"So other people our ages," Alex said slowly, "around the city…"
"And they're less lucky than I am," Magnus finished. His voice dipped. "If I hadn't been—"
"Don't," she cut in immediately. "Don't go there. This is not your fault. It's the System."
"Yeah," he said weakly. "Weirdest survivor guilt ever."
It was a bad joke. He knew it. But they both laughed — short, brittle, and not entirely convincing. Still, for a moment, it helped.
After a beat, she spoke again.
"On a different note," she said carefully, "what do you think the things that keep appearing to you could be?"
Magnus exhaled. "The unlucky ones' ghosts, maybe? It sounds insane, but I don't know what else they could be."
"Maybe," Alex said. She didn't sound convinced.
"What?"
"I still don't think we can rule out this being another one of your System's sick jokes," she said. "Even if there really are other people dying around the city because of it."
He grimaced. "So… do you want to, uh, investigate?"
"Maybe," she said. "I'll see if I can get anything out of Riley. It's our only lead right now."
The bus pulled up with a hiss of air and hydraulics, doors folding open. Magnus glanced at the number. It would take them back near his dorm.
They exchanged a look — conversation unresolved, but temporarily shelved — and climbed aboard together.
***
The bus was about half-full.
Not crowded enough for anyone to be standing, but full enough that personal space was more suggestion than rule. Magnus and Alex headed toward the back and sat down together.
She leaned into him immediately, shoulder to shoulder, her head settling against his arm like muscle memory.
Somewhere else on the bus — and on the "Alejandra Reyes Is Insufferably in Love" forum thread, along with at least two other platforms that technically discouraged this kind of thing — a blurry photo was being uploaded. Their posture, caught at just the right angle.
The caption read:
"Even on public transportation!!!! Is nowhere safe for single people with them around????!!!!!!!"
The couple, meanwhile, were too deep in discussion over something to notice anything was up. Magnus murmured something under his breath, barely audible over the engine's hum.
Alex snorted softly and answered without lifting her head. "She probably already knows I told you something about us — her and me, I mean. Not her name, though. She knows I'd never go that far. So still, don't bring that up unless you want us both dead."
Magnus stiffened. "Wait—what?! How? Since when? Why didn't you tell me?"
She tilted her head just enough to look at him. "Babe. Have you seen how fidgety you were around her at first? You're incapable of keeping any big secret."
"Hey," he protested in a whisper. "I didn't tell you anything about the System at first."
"Right," Alex said dryly. "And how long did that last?"
He hesitated.
"It took you less than a week to tell me about telekinesis," she continued, "and a few days shy of another to come clean about everything else."
"I told you about telekinesis to get you to trust me," he said, indignant but quiet. "And everything else was because I really liked you and didn't want to die without you even knowing why—"
"Uh-huh." She smiled faintly. "Don't get me wrong, your honesty is one of the many things I like about you. But let's face it, babe — you can't keep a secret."
He huffed.
Alex giggled, kissed his cheek, then lowered her voice again.
"Besides, she would've suspected something anyway. The moment I brought you to her and pulled the favor to get her to train you, she would've known you understood there was more to our rivalry than people think. I didn't even tell Sammy. He only found out part of it by accident — and even then, I didn't let him anywhere near Jordan, let alone call in a favor from her like I did for you."
Magnus glanced at her. "Aha! So it's your fault, not anything I did."
"Nope," she shot back. "Definitely your fidgeting!"
They nudged each other quietly — close enough that from the outside it probably looked like nothing more than a couple lost in their own world.
Another angle. Another post. This time with a short clip attached.
"I'm also on that bus… longest five minutes of my life!!!"
After a bit more teasing, Magnus's tone shifted. "So… if she already knows, why isn't she doing anything about it?"
Alex was quiet for a beat as she considered.
"For one thing, it doesn't affect what I asked her to do — training you. And for another…" She exhaled. "She might be saving it. For later. For a bigger explosion, if it ever comes to that."
His throat tightened. "Isn't that bad? I don't want to be the reason your relationship gets worse. Or explodes."
Alex let out a shaky laugh. "I can handle it if it comes to that. My relationship with her has never been a conventional one anyway."
He nodded, unconvinced.
She kissed his cheek again, gentler this time. "Just… do whatever you feel is right. We'll deal with the rest later."
A few minutes later, the bus slowed toward their stop.
They stood, slipped past knees and bags, and stepped off together. As the doors hissed shut behind them, Magnus had the strangest impression that the remaining passengers collectively exhaled — like they were relieved the two of them got off.
He shook his head at the absurd thought and followed Alex down the sidewalk.
***
Later that night, they ended up passionately tangled in bed again, limbs warm and familiar. Alex drifted off with a satisfied grin, breath even and content.
Sleep never claimed her boyfriend. Magnus lay awake, staring into the dark. Strangely enough, it wasn't the figures at the track or the sidewalk — the warnings, the way they appeared and vanished — that troubled him most.
It was the bus conversation. The casual certainty with which Alex had said Jordan already knew.
Alex had tried to reassure him. She'd laughed it off, said she could handle whatever fallout came. But the thought refused to settle. The idea that he might make something already volatile between them worse — more unstable, more explosive — kept looping.
When his alarm went off the next morning, he felt like he hadn't really slept at all. The tension followed him onto the track.
Training was brutal even on a good day. Today, it was worse. His body felt heavy, his reactions just a fraction slower, his thoughts too loud.
Jordan noticed, of course. She always did. But he didn't miss reps. Didn't hesitate when she pushed him harder. Didn't snap back or flinch. So she said nothing. Just watched, sharp-eyed, filing it away.
Tony was quiet too, perched near the fence, tail wrapped around himself, gaze fixed on Magnus with an intensity that bordered on judgment.
When the session ended, Jordan checked her watch, gave a single nod, and turned to leave. As usual.
"Jordan!"
The word slipped out before Magnus had decided to say it. She stopped mid-step and turned back, irritation flashing across her face.
"What," she said flatly.
Magnus swallowed. He hadn't planned this. Hadn't rehearsed anything. The tension had just… spilled over.
"I—" He exhaled and forced himself to continue. "Can we talk?"
She arched an eyebrow. "We're already talking. Whatever you want to say, just spit it out."
"I know there's more," he blurted, before he could stop himself. "Between you and Alex."
Jordan squinted at him.
Not defensive. Nor alarmed.
Surprised — like she was recalibrating a situation she hadn't expected to deal with today.
So Alex was right! She had already known he knew.
He rushed on, words clumsy but earnest. "More than rivals. More than what people think. And I know I've been… tense. Because I didn't want to make a wrong move. Or make things weird. Or make anything worse between you two. Friendships like yours are probably rare—"
"We're not friends!" She cut in sharply, holding up a hand. "Don't you dare go telling anyone Alex and I are friends!"
"Of course not!"
An awkward silence stretched between them. She stared at him for a beat longer, then scoffed — sharp, incredulous.
"Of course Reyes blabbed to you," Jordan said. "God. She's probably blinded by love at this point."
Magnus opened his mouth immediately. "That's not—"
"Save it," she snapped. "You're just as bad, Chane. Same disease. Different flavor." She made air quotes. "'Didn't want to make things any worse' between us." She looked away, like even the idea irritated her. "Disgusting."
Then she paused.
"But," she added, almost reluctantly, "as far as guys go, you're actually… okay."
He blinked.
"Better than the last idiot she dated," Jordan said. Then, sharper, "Don't read into that. And don't make it weird!"
She turned and walked off without waiting for a response.
The HUD flickered. Interest: 14%
Magnus stood there, heart still pounding, replaying the exchange in his head. "…That went better than expected!"
A few seconds passed.
Then Jordan's HUD flickered again. Interest: 16%
Magnus stared after her, completely dumbfounded. "Four percent? From just that?"
Tony hopped down from the fence, tail flicking thoughtfully.
"Told you," the raccoon said. "You stopped leaking panic."
Magnus frowned. "…What?"
"Earlier in week, you moved like prey," Tony said. "Now you move like prey who decided to look around first."
"Sure," Magnus muttered. "Whatever you say."
He gathered his things, filing it away as more of Tony's raccoon nonsense.
What he didn't realize was that Jordan was just as aware of campus gossip as Sofia was, but simply chose not to engage. Instead, she had been watching him all week. The change hadn't been sudden or dramatic, either. It had been steady and accumulative. The way he'd slowly stopped shrinking around her. The way he started meeting her gaze instead of dodging it. The way he no longer tried to manage the tension — just existed with it.
He also didn't realize Tony had said something similar days ago. And that he'd dismissed it just as easily. Apparently, his subconscious hadn't. It had taken whatever the raccoon had meant, translated it into something usable, and acted on it quietly while his mind was busy with other things.
Magnus slung his bag over his shoulder and headed off the track, still convinced the numbers were entirely about the conversation. Tony trailed after him, huffing softly.
"Humans," he said. "Lie to themselves better than anyone!"