3. Him and Them

When I open my eyes, a cup of coffee is waiting in front of me. I'm in a café, surrounded by the hum of life and the aroma of freshly ground beans. Faint jazz music plays in the background.

Huh? What's going on?

I blink rapidly, feeling like there's a fog between me and the world, blurring my vision.

I don't remember how I ended up here, but one thing is certain—I need to pull myself together. There's someone sitting next to me. More specifically, it's a man. A very attractive man. And he's looking at me, clearly waiting for my response.

Fuck, I must have dozed off again. I hate when this happens—when my reality crashes and collapses, and suddenly, I find myself in a completely new place. It's like I'm in a video game, and a new save loads out of the blue, dropping me into an entirely different scene.

"I'm sorry, what?" I ask the man, my palms getting sweaty and my breath catching in my chest. I hate admitting it, but I don't even remember his name. In fact, I don't recall ever seeing him before. Saying I regret it is an understatement.

The man, tall and likely in his late twenties or early thirties, looks at me from under long, black eyelashes. Amused, he smiles faintly, two disarming dimples forming on his face. His sharp features light up instantly. With high cheekbones and a strong, defined jawline, that smile makes him more than charming.

In other words, he's drop-dead gorgeous.

"I was asking if you like your coffee," he repeats, glancing pointedly at the cup on the table in front of me. Only now do I notice he has a cup in his hands, too. It's almost as if… we're on a date.

"The coffee," I repeat, feeling all sorts of hazy. I really don't want to be a jerk here, but I think I'd remember setting up a meeting with a man like him. I run a hand through my hair and smile nervously before I muster the courage to actually ask him the question bombarding my mind.

Except, I don't have to. He answers it for me just like that.

"The one you promised to go with me to?" he asks. "You know, the date I've been trying to get you to agree to for the past few weeks?"

My jaw drops. So it is a date.

Way to go, Claire. You've been avoiding a guy like him for weeks, and now that you're finally here, you can't even remember his name?!

"Right," I say, laughing. Again, it's not a nice laugh. Not one of those feminine chippers that light up the room. It's nervous and awkward and far from charming. "That coffee."

I clear my throat and wrap my hands around the cup, the warmth easing the fog a bit. I take a sip, hoping the coffee will ease it even further. It doesn't. I'm only left more confused.

The coffee is strong and slightly bitter, just how I usually like it, but today it tastes foreign. It feels like something I should remember. Like I picked this café myself. But the thing is, I might be amnesiac from time to time, but it's not as severe as for me not to recall places at all. I should at least have some recollection of this place and the man in front of me.

I finally look at him. He's already watching me with deep, piercing blue eyes. He has thick, arched eyebrows and short, jet-black hair that is nicely styled.

Honestly, he looks like the type of guy who makes six figures and hangs out with models. There's just something about him that makes me feel like he doesn't belong here, like he shouldn't be sitting in a café with someone like me. But here he is, sipping his coffee and watching me.

"How is it?" he asks again after we both take a sip.

"It's, um, better?" I blurt out, not sure why I say it. "I mean, now that we're here together," I add quickly, feeling embarrassed. Damn, I really don't want to come off as a jerk, but I'm not exactly friendly. He can clearly see that I'm uncomfortable.

"You sure?" he asks, those dimples in his face deepening as he smiles again.

I can tell he's amused by all this—my reactions, this whole meeting, and me in general. Why that is, I don't know, but it stirs up a strange, fuzzy feeling in my stomach, and I roll with it. I reach for the cup again, taking another sip.

Unfortunately, I'm a bit too quick. One minute I'm sipping the bitter liquid, the next I'm coughing, splashing some of it out, and feeling it dribble down my nose.

Fuck, did I just… spill the coffee through my nose?!

Oh, no. Oh, hell no.

Fix the situation, Claire! Who cares you don't remember the guy? Just… be nice!

"Clearly," I joke, setting everything on the table and reaching for tissues to clean up the mess. But he's quicker. Just as I lean toward the tissue holder, he's already got three tissues in hand, standing up and coming over to help me.

I'm perched on a cushioned bench with plenty of space on either side of me. He takes up most of it to my right, his thigh brushing against mine as he comes close. Then, he begins dabbing at the stains still on my jeans.

Immediately, I'm overwhelmed by his scent—aged wood, black pepper, and the faintest trace of a winter night. It's alluring and familiar in ways that make no sense. I lean in without really meaning to, just to take him in deeper.

I get lost in him for a moment, feeling like a ball of useless emotion that got thrown up into the sky. What am I even doing?

"So tell me, Claire," he says, still rubbing at the spots. He does it slowly—slower than someone who wants this over quickly and it becomes clear that he's prolonging the moment on purpose. My pulse quickens. "Are you always this charming on first dates?"

"Well, let me tell you..." I pause. What is his name?

"Echo," he supplies, his eyes glinting as they never leave mine. Wow, that deep blue color in them is borderline metallic, like fine silver glinting in a cobalt flame.

"Echo, sorry," I mumble, feeling my face heat up with embarrassment. Here I am, being cleaned up by a man whose name I just learned, in a café I don't remember coming to. And weirdly enough, I don't mind it one bit. "If by ‘charming' you mean shooting coffee out of my nose, then no, I'm not always like this."

"Well," he chuckles, "not only are you memorable, but you also smell really, really good now. Maybe not quite as good as you do naturally, but still really good. I'd say I lucked out."

I can't help but smile back, despite the strangeness of the situation. There's something incredibly disarming about this guy, and he definitely knows it.

My whole body is tense, but in a way I like. It's different from the nervousness that keeps me up at night, feeling watched and scared. This is a nervousness I didn't think I'd feel again anytime soon. Attraction. I sit up straighter, a chill running through me, my nipples hardening under my clothes.

I lick my lips. "Hold off on those bold statements until you know me better," I say, shaking my head slightly. Just then, he finishes cleaning up, his hands leaving a lingering warmth on my thighs. His leg stays pressed against mine. "Much as I like you, I've got to be honest." Time to address the elephant in the room. I can't believe I'm on a date with such a hot guy and about to say this... "I don't even know how I ended up here."

He raises an eyebrow, giving me a look that suggests he thinks I'm joking. The way he cocks his eyebrow at me... There's a confident air about him that stirs something primal within me, and suddenly, I need to shift in my seat.

"Good that I know it just fine," he purrs. "Who knows? I might just want to share all that knowledge with you."

My eyes go wide. Who is this guy? He's open-minded, hot, looks wealthy, and can keep up a conversation even when I'm being a total weirdo? I just can't believe it.

"Alright," I say, laughing a bit. Normally, I'd push him away and bolt, and honestly, I did try to warn him that I'm not exactly dating material. But it's not my fault he talked me into staying. "Go ahead, I'm listening."

He leans against the bench and puts a hand on the backrest. I can feel his heat radiating over me, and his scent... oh, damn. The longer I breathe it in, the better it smells.

"How about another round of coffee before I give out all the secrets, then?" he asks. "You did promise me one, and now that you've spilled it all..." He looks to the side and shakes his head for a moment. When his gaze meets mine again, I see more of that confident amusement in his deep blue eyes. "I've got to say, I feel slightly tricked here."

"Oh, really?" I reply, cocking a brow. My breath flutters at the way he nods, slow and regal, like some very handsome monarch. It makes me smile.

I run my hand through my hair again. To my surprise, it's not greasy or messy. It's neatly tied back in a ponytail. If only I could think straight, I'd have noticed sooner.

It's more than that, though. I'm wearing makeup, and I'm dressed nicely, too. Looks like I actually put effort into this date.

Shit. This might be serious.

Have I thought about other ways to deal with insomnia besides medication and Cam's so-called witchcraft after she left? I might have decided to try something different, involving another person and, let's just say, a lot less clothing than I'm wearing right now.

My body starts buzzing with excitement. Nervousness lingers, but it fades into the background with each passing moment.

"Okay," I say, clapping my hands. They're a bit sticky from dried coffee, but I suddenly couldn't care less. "Let me go place an order. You don't need anything, right?"

I glance at the half-full cup in front of him. With a wink, he downs it in one gulp. I just raise an eyebrow and smile. This is a sign he wants to spend more time with me, right?

"Actually, let's both get new ones. To go?" He stands up with me.

"To go sounds great," I agree, feeling a rush of warmth spread through my body. There's something thrilling about this, about him—Echo. He's a mystery, but an alluring one, and since I trust myself, I decide to go with it.

Actually... maybe I shouldn't trust myself. After all, I'm not just sick but also capable of hallucinations. Maybe the trust thing is just an excuse I'm giving myself to finally live a little, even if it might not last. Regardless, if he's a serial killer, then... too bad. I'm going with him anyway.

Besides, if I hadn't wanted to be here, I sure wouldn't have put in this much effort. Showered, groomed, styled—the whole deal. And let's not forget the dark red manicure I'm rocking, which I definitely wouldn't bother with if I wasn't into this.

I stand up, smoothing out my clothes, aware of how close he is. It has my blood pumping in the best of ways. We walk up to the counter together, and I place our order. Echo stands right beside me, watching.

He seems to like watching me.

As the barista prepares our drinks, I turn to him.

"So, where to next?" I ask, my curiosity piqued. I'm itching to see where this all goes. God knows I've already wasted enough of my life. This might be exactly what I need.

He looks down at me, his eyes sparkling with a mischievous glint. "I was thinking of a walk. It's a beautiful night, and there's a park nearby that's perfect for evening strolls," he suggests. The way he licks his teeth sends a shiver down my spine, but I bite my lip and smile.

"Sounds perfect," I reply, feeling a tingle at my fingertips.

We collect our coffees and step outside. The night air is crisp and a bit chilly, with moonlight peeking from behind dark clouds. The streets are quiet, bathed in an eerie aura. No people, no cars. It feels late, but how come...?

"Um, what time is it?" I ask, glancing at my coffee and frowning. An insomniac like me shouldn't drink coffee at night. It feels like clipping my own wings.

Echo looks at me, a strange expression flickering across his handsome face before it turns sultry. "High time for some answers maybe?" he suggests. "Since you don't seem to remember me and all?"

I nod, anxiety knotting in my stomach. The whole situation feels surreal. On one hand, I can't quite grasp it. On the other, I don't want to. I feel good, better than I have in months. There's a handsome guy interested in me.

But I still had to ask for answers... It's so like me to ruin moments like this. Why can't I just ignore that nagging feeling in my gut and just enjoy the moment, even if I don't totally understand it? Not everything has to be logical and clear. Sometimes it's okay to let go and not be suspicious. Maybe the unexplainable things are happening for a reason.

"Answers..." I muse out loud, glancing at Echo. In the moonlight, his skin looks alabaster, with a faint blue hue. His inky black hair also sheens blue, making him look even more handsome.

"Hm?" he murmurs, looking up at me with a smile that reveals his dimples. "Isn't that what you were after? To get the whole story?"

There's a teasing tone in his voice; he probably still thinks I'm joking around. Little does he know that I'm actually dealing with insomnia and sporadic amnesia on the regular.

I take a sip of my coffee. He does too. Nighttime be damned.

"Oh, I'm sure part of me is exactly after that," I say sincerely, leaving the rest of my message hanging in the air. I hope he understands that I enjoy being with him right here and now, and that I don't want to complicate my already complicated life any further.

Does that make sense? I don't know. My thoughts are a mess.

"Should I satisfy it?" he asks, leaning in close. At first, I'm not sure what he's doing, but then he reaches for a strand of hair that's escaped my ponytail and takes a sniff.

He's smelling me... He did say that I smell good naturally, didn't he? And he likes the smell of coffee, too.

His closeness is electrifying, and the air between us crackles with a tension I can't quite define. It's both exhilarating and a little bit… unsettling.

"I, uh… I don't know," I whisper, entranced by the way his fingers weave through my hair. We slow our pace until we stop entirely. The crisp air feels sweeter with him in it. I've been on dates before the sickness crept into my life, but none of them felt like this. None of them made me want to abandon all thought and just let go.

Echo licks his lips and glances at mine. For a moment, pure desire flashes across his face—a desire so intense it could incinerate worlds. It's more than hot. It's molten lava. But just as I think I might be set ablaze, it vanishes.

"Too bad I have to tell you anyway," he murmurs. "It'd all be pointless otherwise."

My eyebrows knit together, and a knot forms in my stomach. I want to step back, but suddenly, Echo's hand is on my lower back, holding me in place.

The cup falls to the ground between us. Coffee spills across the concrete.

"What…" I begin, but the words trail off.

"This?" he says, his gaze piercing right through me. "This isn't real. You're dreaming, Claire. I'm here to protect you."

His words make my mind spin. Dreaming? Protect me? It makes no sense, yet deep down, a part of me knows he's telling the truth. It feels like a bucket of ice-cold water dumped on me. I don't feel good anymore.

"What are you talking about?" I ask, pushing him away and stepping back. Anger coils within me. If there's one thing I hate, it's feeling powerless. And Echo just made me feel exactly that. Just a couple of words, just one pesky meaning behind them, and the haziness returns. My head feels light. Too light. The ball of emotion I was before? It falls from the sky and crashes to the ground, spilling everywhere just like coffee.

He opens his mouth, but no words come out. Instead, an awful sound emanates from around us, chilling my bones. Low, yet shrieking. Singular, yet spoken by many voices.

Terrifying.

The scene changes. The crispiness in the air turns into a biting chill, like there are little needles in between the air particles. Just breathing feels like it's slashing me from the inside. The emptiness of the street makes the little hairs on my neck stand on end. The mix of exhilaration and unease I felt morphs into pure fear. I feel only fear.

I spin around, searching for the source of the sound. My heart hammers in my chest, each beat echoing in my ears. There are… shadows around Echo and I. They twist and move, creating unsettling shapes at the edge of my blurry vision.

He grabs my arm, his grip firm but not painful.

"You need to remember our meeting here," he says suddenly. "Tell me you'll remember."

I don't react to his words. They just wash over me like water. All I can do is keep searching for the shadows that are getting closer. Even without looking at them directly, I know they're coming. I feel it in my bones, just like I knew something was off about all of this. About this... dream.

These shadows are here for me. And they're going to catch me, sooner or later. That's what they're here for. That's their purpose.

Echo shakes my arm. I blink, glancing at him briefly, and nod.

"Good," he says, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that makes the world around us almost fade. Almost. "As long as you remember, we'll meet again."

And just like that, the shadows reach us.

They tear us apart.

They consume me.