I knew I was the main character the moment the school bell echoed like a movie scene. The wind hit just right, my latte was exactly 78% full, and my crush looked at me like he’d read the script.
Of course, the universe glitched a little when the mirror smiled first. But maybe that’s normal?
Anyway, hi. I’m Elowyn Rue — 17, living in a dreamy little town called Ivermere, and occasionally slipping out of reality like it’s a cardigan I forgot I was wearing.
I was running down the hallway, trying to escape from a vibe I couldn’t name, when I crashed into someone. Hard. I looked up — it was my classmate, Arden Vale.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice weirdly calm.
I didn’t reply. I just ran. Straight home.
Mom knocked on my door later. I opened it. She handed me snacks, like always. I pretended to study for a bit, but eventually slipped into movies — my real escape.
Then I blinked.
And Arden was there. Standing in front of me. In my room.
Like a glitch in the script.
He stared at me like he could see through my skull.
“Are you waiting for someone?” I asked, my voice shaky.
“I’m waiting for you,” he said.
My brain did a backflip.
“What’s up?” I managed to say, trying to sound casual.
“Are you free?”
I nodded. I didn’t have anything else to do.
“Then walk with me.”
We walked through Ivermere like it was made of fog and memory. The streets looked the same, but… quieter. Like the whole town was holding its breath.
Arden didn’t say anything. Neither did I. We passed the school, the bakery, the park bench where I once cried over a math test. All unchanged. All strange.
Finally, I asked, “Where are we going?”
“Somewhere between,” he said.
“Between what?”
He didn’t answer. Just kept walking.
The air started to shimmer a little. You know the way heat rises off pavement in summer? Like that — but colder.
“Is this a dream?” I asked.
Arden stopped.
“Does it feel like one?” he said.
“Kinda. But worse.”
He turned and looked at me again — really looked. Like he was trying to read the ending of my story just from my expression.
“You’ve been slipping,” he said.
“Slipping?”
“From here to there. From real to… not. That’s why I’m here.”
My hands suddenly felt too small. The sky pulsed above us.
“So you’re, what? My imaginary boyfriend? A metaphor? A guardian ghost?”
He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
“Maybe I’m just Arden.”
He turned and started walking again.
I followed. What else could I do?
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