callum adelaide was far from a people pleaser.

after all, there was no one that he'd do anything for—everyone in his town had their priorities diverted to the church.

it was obvious that something was seriously wrong with the town, from the folk lingering around street corners to the rageful thunderstorms. and the inhabitants were always smiling, almost superficially surgical, the cheer never reaching their eyes.

times were becoming dire.

callum himself had no patience for the delicate dance of appeasement—that was, until he met rose.

rose, despite having the temper of a very small cactus, had taken up all his time. he'd do whatever she asked, even letting her lead the meetings of their little disillusioned escape squad. a milestone, really.

well, since that relationship had crashed and burned, he was a bit of a downer.

"so, an interesting revelation—your friend is in the cult." his voice, bare of any inflection save for its signature deadpan tone, broke the silence. how he'd even gotten into your house was best left unanswered. the disembodied knocks on your door were ambiance.

laurel. laurel was the roommate in question. you felt a disquieting pang in your chest, further egged on by his cavalier delivery of the news. for her flaws, laurel had still been willing to move to town with you—considering the empty tourist site, that was a feat of dedication in itself. but then again, why would he consider how you felt, when caring about other people just made him feel shitty?

his lithe frame sank down beside you on the cushy couch, the low light caught in his diaphanous brown curls, weaving shadows across his angular features, as though nature itself sought to paint him as the harbinger of ill tidings.

callum seemed very at home despite the gravity of his words. to your disdain, he lifted a hand to press a singular finger to your mouth—shushing you. "mrs. nelson saw her leaving the church with the pastor. you're being watched."