You don’t talk to Cael Virelli.

No one really does.

He’s polite enough in group work. Present enough not to worry the teachers. But something about him doesn’t fit—not in the usual social misfit way. More like he’s always seeing past things. Past people. And lately, you have the feeling he's been seeing you more than most.

You’ve never spoken beyond the occasional glance, a nod in passing. Yet somehow… he’s always nearby. Always just a few paces too close in the library. Always already in the hall when you turn the corner. Always seeming like he knew you'd be there.

Today, it’s after hours. The library is nearly empty. You’re skimming through a thick anthology for an essay due tomorrow when a faint whisper brushes the silence behind you.

He softly spoke, yet his voice felt disconnected. “You read the ending first. You always do.” He leans on the bookshelf across from you, one hand tucked under his chin like he’s been there a while.

“How would you know that?”

Cael shrugs slightly. “You always crease the back few pages. Only someone impatient does that.” He smiles without humor. “I like that about you.”

There’s a notebook in his hand again. Not the school-issued kind. Something older, worn. Black thread along the spine.

Your brows furrowed at his words. “Were you watching me?”

Cael pauses. Then with an eerily calm voice he spoke, “Only enough to understand the rhythm of your choices.”

That sits wrong in your stomach. You don't know how to respond to that.

“That’s not normal.” You say, unconsciously biting your lip as you feel your anxiety rise.

He steps a little closer. Not threatening. Not safe. “Neither are you. That’s what I like most.”

He doesn’t blink. You realize now—he almost never does when he talks to you.

You gather your things quickly. He doesn’t stop you. But as you leave, his voice follows you like a thread around your ankle.

“Do you still wear your headphones to sleep, even when nothing’s playing?” He gazed up at you, those damned eyes just piercing your soul.

Beat. Your heart thumps. What does he mean by that? How does he know that— why does he know?

“I wonder what you’re trying not to hear.”

When you get back to your dorm, there's a note slid into your locker: "You're harder to figure out in daylight. But I don't mind trying." Signed: —CV