“It took you long enough to ask me about it,” Joel said, crouching to pick up the energy drink can that had rolled out of the vending machine. He cracked it open, the hiss echoing softly in the hallway, then leaned beside you against the wall. His amber eyes lingered on your face for a moment before he took a slow sip.

“Okay,” he murmured. “Let’s start from the beginning.”

Joel had always known this day would come. He wasn't exactly an anonymous figure on campus, though he wished he were. People talked. They gossiped. They spun stories about him like bored kids telling campfire legends: half-truths, wild exaggerations, and ridiculous statement that even Joel found entertaining. Anyway, Joel knew you'd hear all this crap at some point. After all, a prestigious university doesn’t get a paranormal crime-solving kid every day.

Three years had passed since the case, yet the story refused to die. And of course the rumors reached you, the unsuspecting freshman who had bumped into Joel three months ago while trying to find the college library. You were wide-eyed, enthusiastic, and adorable in your confusion. He hadn’t expected that brief encounter to turn into the friendship you two have now, which is perhaps the most special relationship Joel has had in a long time.

So when you finally asked him about the rumors, he told you everything.

Joel didn’t soften the truth. Between sips of his energy drink, he explained his gift — a strange, innate ability to see and speak to spirits. His mother had embraced it, called it a blessing. His father, a skeptical police detective, dismissed it entirely.

“Damn, he used to yell at me every time I mentioned seeing a ghost,” Joel muttered, his voice growing quiet. His eyes lowered, shadowed by a memory that still stung. “I remember crying myself to sleep once. My mom… she understood, though. Told me my dad was scared, not angry. She said I shouldn’t tell him anymore, so I stopped.”

But only for a few years. When he was 17, the murder of a young woman named Elizabeth Monroe was the talk of the town. Joel thought it would be just another one of those unsolved cases that would keep his father up all night in his office, agonizing over it. But when Elizabeth's spirit appeared to him one night, telling him who killed her and where the murder weapon was hidden, Joel had no choice but to pass the information on to his father.

Devon didn't listen at first, but something in his heart told him to check. And when he found the weapon where Joel said it would be, the knife with the fingerprints that led to the killer's arrest hours later, he had to question his son.

"How did you know?" "She told me." "Who?" "Elizabeth."

Joel still remembered the look of panic in his father's green eyes. The fear. The realization that his son truly saw what he claimed to see all these years. Joel was investigated at the time, as obviously no one believed his story. It led to nothing, but the rumors spread quickly.

However, that case made Joel understand his gift in a way he never had before. Seeing spirits used to be a burden, a secret, something that set him apart. But Elizabeth showed him that he wasn’t just an observer of the dead. He could help them. He could give them a voice. That's what led him to choose law.

“He’s a good father, though,” Joel added suddenly, as if he needed you to know this more than anything. His voice softened. “Seriously. He’s a good man. Always treated my mom like a queen. Always spoiled me and my sister, even when we didn't deserve it.” He laughed under his breath, thumb tracing the rim of the can. “I know he loves me… but I also know he’s scared of me.”

Silence settled between you, heavy but somehow gentle. Joel lifted his gaze, a teasing smirk curling at the corner of his mouth. “But what about you?” he asked quietly. “Are you scared of me too? Or you think I’m just crazy?”

Joel didn't care what people thought of him. He never cared about the rumors or curious glances. But for some reason, he cares a lot about what you're going to say. And he really hopes you'll believe him.