The alarm rang, but Leo wasn't sure he had actually slept.
He stayed there for a while, staring at the ceiling, listening to the silence of the house — that new, heavy silence, as if the entire town was holding its breath.
Everything felt too clean, too still. Even the wind seemed unsure whether it should move the trees.
He got up, pulled on a pair of jeans and a black sweater.
His suitcase was still half-unpacked at the foot of the bed, waiting for him to start a life he wasn't ready for.
His parents had already left, swallowed by their mysterious routines and projects.
Leo went outside, crossing the damp garden under a thin morning drizzle.
Flashback
A few weeks earlier, the sun was setting over the schoolyard.
Leo leaned against a wall, eyes lost in the fading clouds. Next to him, Camille absentmindedly twisted a ring around her finger.
— "So… it's really decided? You're leaving?"
Her voice was calm, but trembling just a little.
Leo took a moment before answering.
— "Yeah. It's not like I have a choice, you know."
Camille nodded, not looking at him.
— "You've always had that thing… wanting to disappear when things get too heavy."
He gave a tired smile.
— "It's not running away. Just… a new start."
A silence stretched between them, long and almost suffocating.
The wind blew a strand of hair across her face.
She stepped closer.
— "And what if, once you're there… you forget all this? Forget… me?"
He looked away.
— "I never forget what I don't understand."
She froze, searching his eyes for something she couldn't find. Then she whispered:
— "Then I hope you understand someday."
The bell rang.
She stood up, slung her bag over her shoulder, and walked away without turning back.
Leo watched her until she disappeared around the corner.
He hadn't heard her voice — or received a single message — since that day.
At the end of the driveway, the school bus waited, its engine humming softly, white mist escaping the exhaust.
He climbed aboard, heading straight to the back seat.
A few curious glances turned his way, but no one spoke.
He rested his head against the window, watching the blurred shapes of trees and fog rolling by.
The sound of laughter and conversations around him felt distant — muffled, as if behind glass.
When the bus stopped in front of Crescent Hill High, he stepped off, tightening the straps of his backpack.
The building was gray, modern, too clean to feel welcoming.
Inside, the secretary barely looked up.
— "Leo Morel? The principal is expecting you."
The principal's office was bright and almost unnervingly tidy.
A round man with a cheerful face shook Leo's hand a little too enthusiastically.
— "Welcome, Leo! Everyone here eventually finds their place. And this is Noah — he'll show you around, help you settle in."
Noah walked in without knocking. Tall, lean, messy hair, unreadable expression.
— "Hey."
— "I'm counting on you, Noah!" said the principal.
— "Yeah, sure," he replied flatly, already heading for the door.
The hallways buzzed with chatter, but to Leo, it all sounded far away.
Noah walked fast, not bothering to check if Leo was keeping up.
— "That's the science wing. Cafeteria's down there. Lockers at the end."
He paused, glanced sideways.
— "By the way… how come your English is so good?"
Leo shrugged.
— "My parents. We speak English a lot at home. They made sure I practiced."
Noah nodded, as if that explained everything.
— "Cool. You'll be fine."
When they entered the classroom, all eyes turned toward Leo.
He sat at the back, as usual.
A few snickers. Whispered comments.
One boy leaned toward his friend and said, loud enough for Leo to hear:
— "So, the little French guy ready to prove himself?"
Leo clenched his jaw, met the boy's gaze, and replied quietly but firmly:
— "I'm not here to play that game."
A short silence followed. The boy frowned, but Leo had already turned back to his notes, eyes drifting toward the dark line of trees outside.
The rest of the day dragged on.
Noah stayed nearby — polite but distant — explaining where things were, how classes worked, when lunch ended.
They didn't really talk. It was just… guidance.
— "Don't worry," Noah muttered at one point. "They'll chill out. They just test new people."
— "Thanks," Leo said, without looking up.
— "And… keep a low profile," Noah added.
When the final bell rang, Leo felt drained.
The drizzle had returned, soft and cold.
He climbed onto the bus again, earbuds in — no music, just silence to hide behind.
The blurred faces of students faded in the window's reflection.
When he got off at his stop, the road was empty and gray. He adjusted his bag and started walking home.
That's when he saw the same boy — the one who had mocked him earlier.
The boy's expression was different now. Open. Bright. Almost cheerful.
He smiled and said simply:
— "Hey, you good?"
Leo's irritation flared back up. Too surprised, too confused, he looked away and kept walking without a word.
But the thought lingered in his head:
"What's he doing here… on the road to my house?"
He walked a few more steps, a chill crawling down his spine.
Something felt off.
He turned around.
The boy had stopped a few meters away.
His smile had vanished.
His face looked… blank, drained of all life.
And his eyes — that stare — cold, piercing, unnatural.
Leo blinked, dizzy for a second.
When he looked up again, the boy was gone.
The street was empty.
His heart pounded.
Cold sweat trickled down his neck.
He spun around, scanning the misty street. Nothing. No sound. No movement.
He tried to laugh, to reassure himself.
— "I'm just tired," he muttered under his breath.
But his voice trembled.
And before he realized it, he was walking faster.
When he got home, the house was dark and silent. His parents were still at work.
He climbed the stairs, opened his window, and let the night air in.
The forest stretched endlessly beyond, quiet and unmoving.
— "Guess I'm not the only silent one, huh?" he murmured to himself.
But no one answered.