When the shuffle of chairs and bags settled after roll call, the teacher gestured to the empty desk behind Eli.
"Riven, you can sit there."
The scrape of a chair sounded, and Eli felt rather than saw the boy move into the space behind him. A faint, dry scent of pine drifted over his shoulder — clean, sharp, and grounding. It made him want to turn around. He didn't.
Instead, he sat very still, aware of every breath.
The morning lessons passed in quiet rhythm — ink scratching across paper, the soft thud of books closing, the occasional squeak of chalk. But every now and then, Eli caught it again — that low, steady hum inside his chest. It wasn't constant; it came in flickers, like a thought you could almost remember but not quite. Like something brushing against the edge of memory.
During literature, the teacher handed out short passages for paired discussion.
"Eli, Riven — you two can work together."
Eli looked over his shoulder. Riven was already watching him, head tilted slightly, amber eyes unreadable. There was no surprise in his gaze. As if he'd known they'd be paired.
"Okay," Eli murmured.
They bent over the text, their voices low. Riven's handwriting was quick and fluid, as if he knew what he wanted to say before the words formed. He didn't waste movement — no idle fidgeting, no restless glances around the room. He was still in a way that made Eli feel restless.
"You read a lot, right?" Riven asked, almost casually.
Eli blinked. "Yeah… how did you—"
"You just seem like you do," Riven said, eyes flicking to the edge of Eli's notebook where neat, small handwriting filled the margins.
Eli wasn't used to people noticing things like that. "Mostly fantasy," he admitted. "And old stuff. Things no one else really reads."
Riven's lips quirked slightly. "I read Moonblood again last night."
Eli stilled. "Again?"
Riven nodded once. "I wanted to see if I'd missed anything the first time."
There was no reason for Eli's pulse to jump at that, but it did. "And… did you?"
Riven's gaze lingered on him for a beat too long. "A few things."
His voice was quiet, but there was something behind it — something that made Eli feel like he was one of those things.
They worked in silence after that, but the air between them felt charged, like a thread had been tied and neither of them had decided whether to pull it or cut it.
When the bell rang, Riven stacked his books with deliberate care. Eli gathered his things and stood, but as he moved toward the door, he felt the faintest shift — not sound exactly, more like awareness — and glanced back.
Riven was watching him again, expression unreadable.
It should have felt strange. Instead, it felt… steady. Like something waiting.
After School
The late afternoon light spilled in molten gold over the streets, turning rain puddles into mirrors. Eli walked with his bag slung over one shoulder, his mind already drifting toward the book waiting for him at home.
He almost didn't notice the faint hum at the base of his neck — that strange awareness he'd felt a few times now, like invisible eyes tracing his steps. It wasn't fear exactly. But it wasn't comfort either.
A car engine roared in the quiet street. Eli glanced up just in time to see it turn the corner far too fast, water spraying from the tires. He stepped instinctively toward the curb, but the uneven sidewalk caught his foot. His weight pitched forward—
And then—
Something slammed into him from behind, not painfully, but with enough force to spin him out of harm's way. The gust from the car's mirror brushed his sleeve as it tore past, the noise deafening for a split second before fading.
He was against a solid chest.
Strong fingers gripped the back of his jacket and his arm, holding him in place. The scent hit him first — pine, clean and wild, threaded with something warmer. Then he looked up.
Riven's face was inches from his, his jaw tight, eyes bright and almost… sharp. Not the flat amber he'd seen in class, but alive with a heat that pinned Eli in place.
"Are you hurt?" The question was low, steady — but there was an edge there, like the control cost him something.
Eli shook his head, though he wasn't sure his voice would work.
Riven's gaze swept over him quickly, as if checking for damage. His hand lingered a second too long on Eli's arm before sliding away, the absence sudden and cold.
"How—" Eli began, but stopped. He hadn't heard footsteps. Hadn't seen Riven anywhere on the street. One moment he'd been alone — the next, Riven was there.
"You should watch where you're going," Riven said, already stepping back.
But Eli caught it — the faint tremor in his breathing, gone as quickly as it came.
And for reasons he couldn't name, that shook him more than the car did.