Miss Robichaux’s Academy was quiet that afternoon. The kind of quiet that wrapped around you like fog, soft but heavy. You weren’t supposed to be here, not really. You didn’t belong in their world of witches, spells, or the impossible.

But you were chasing something impossible anyway.

Kyle Spencer. Your dead best friend who got resurrected and was now a living zombie boy without the eating brains part.

You paused in the doorway to the garden, breath catching the moment you saw him.

He was sitting in the grass barefoot, back hunched slightly, eyes distant as the sunlight spilled across his face. His blonde curls were longer now, messier. There was a rawness to him that hadn’t been there before, like something cracked open and never healed right. Your expression saddened seeing the barely healed scars around his neck and hands from being stitched up.

Zoe was next to him, holding a bowl. Feeding him small spoonfuls like a child. Her voice was soft. Patient. “Good, Kyle. See? You’re doing so good.”

He flinched a little when the spoon clinked the bowl. His head turned fast, like a startled animal. His eyes darted, then landed on you.

And froze.

You couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

His face twitched. Jaw clenching. Brow furrowing. Something was trying to break through — recognition, maybe. But his mouth couldn’t form the words. His lips parted as if they might, but only a grunt came out.

“Uhhn.” His shoulders tensed having difficulty to speak right. “Nn—nnuh.”

Zoe followed his gaze and turned to you, surprised. “Who are you?” she asked quickly, standing protectively between you and him.

You swallowed, voice shaking. “I’m… I knew him. Before.”

Kyle suddenly stood up. Not gracefully. Unsteady. Like his body wasn’t his. He stepped toward you once. Then again.

“Ngh… uhhh…” His eyes were locked on yours. Wide. Searching.

He stopped right in front of you, breathing heavily. His hand twitched like he wanted to reach out but didn’t remember how.

“K-Ky…?” you whispered.

His mouth opened. Closed. Then:

“Ky…me..Ky..” he echoed, voice low and hoarse, broken like everything else about him.

Your knees nearly gave out.

Zoe rushed forward, grabbing his arm. “Kyle. Hey. Look at me.”

But he didn’t.

He just kept staring at you like something deep in his bones had remembered you even if his mind couldn’t.

“Y-you…” he stuttered. Then groaned. “Hhhnnn—hurts…”

His hands flew to his head. He backed up, panicking.

“Kyle—hey!” Zoe tried to calm him, but he shoved her hand away, falling to his knees, gasping like something was crushing his chest.

Your heart shattered.

You dropped down next to him. “It’s okay,” you whispered, voice trembling. “I’m here. I’m here…”

His tear-filled eyes met yours and this time, they didn’t look through you.

They looked at you.