9

EXHAUSTION CREEPS INTO MY body as I walk home. I don't usually feel so heavy after work, but the store was busy. Tourists from other cities often make the trip to Darkest Night. It's good that the store keeps busy in that way, but it's tiring as well.

Not to mention my mind lingering on someone I don't actually want to think about.

"Hey, Ophelia, wait up!"

I stop, turning to find Reya running up behind me. She's smiling as she slows by my side, looping her arm through mine. "You haven't responded to any of my texts today. I'm sorry if I upset you. I know I shouldn't have questioned your ability to cope with he-who-shall-not-be-named being in town."

"I'm okay." I smile, though I doubt it's convincing. "I'm just tired. It was busy today. And now I have to go home and figure out dinner."

"No worries." And she means it. Reya's been my friend since… well, since the accident. She knows when I need space and she knows when to check on me.

"Thank you for being so sweet, Reya. How about we go get dinner and catch up a little?"

"I would love to, but my family wants to have a family night. But we'll go soon, okay? You go home and rest."

I stop, hugging her. "Thanks, Rey."

I don't tell her that she was right all along, that my mind is lingering on Atlas. His voice, deeper than it has ever been, yet so familiar that I would know it anywhere.

I know he comes back to town for his mom every once in a while. But the fact that he stepped foot in my only safe space is frustrating. It's as if now that he's come so close again, I can't banish him from my mind.

Reya takes a turn at the corner, waving as she heads to her house. I enter my house, locking the door behind me. I eat some instant ramen and call it a night. My body is weary and craving rest.

I do my night routine, then slip into bed and let sleep overcome me.

A FOREST SURROUNDS ME . But that isn't the most noticeable thing. Butterflies the color of night fly around, surrounding me. They're stunning and terrifying all at once. Dark wings of black and navy. They flutter about, some alighting on the trees, some lingering on the grass beneath my feet.

The other shocking detail is the ball gown I'm clothed in. It's a deep plum and shimmers in the light. I wear no shoes, and there's a small blue pendant necklace hanging around my neck.

I wander through the woods, turning my head this way and that as I glance at the butterflies. They never touch me, instead parting in midair or lifting up from the grass, making way for me to walk.

"Ophelia?"

That voice.

I turn, despite telling myself not to look back at the inevitable.

Atlas stands tall in the clearing, butterflies surrounding him, too. They never touch him, either. His shirt is a blue button-up, though it's open. And his pants are dark slacks. His eyes meet mine, and there's something like warmth in the depths of them, like a current stirring in an ocean.

I shake my head. "I don't want to dream about you."

"This is a dream?" He seems confused.

"I would assume so. Why are you here? Never mind. My subconscious is clearly stuck on thinking you came into town the other day."

"I did. I was visiting my mom. I stopped by the bookstore, but I didn't see you. I thought it would be a long shot that you even still lived in town. But then I saw you walk out of the bookstore when I was getting coffee."

"I don't run away from tragedy and leave destruction in my wake," I bite back.

He frowns. "Ophelia… I don't think this is just a dream. I'm real. Or maybe you're in my dream."

"This is my dream. You're a figment of my imagination. One I don't particularly want to deal with right now."

I turn and keep walking, but he follows. He gently grabs my arm. "Ophelia, wait. Let me talk. This has to be my dream. All I did in town was think about you, so maybe my mind has conjured you up."

"That's not possible."

Dream Atlas is now getting on my nerves like real Atlas does. I wrench free from his grasp and continue pushing through the woods. Eventually I will wake up and he'll be gone.

I know he follows silently behind me. I ignore his presence, refusing to open up any more dialogue with a dream.

"Ophelia," he says.

I turn to tell him to leave me alone, but he's gone. Finally, my subconscious listened to me. I can feel my mind pulling out of the dream, the butterflies becoming blurry.

And then I'm waking up, tears streaming down my face.