It wasn't until halfway through the second week of the semester that Morrigan noticed him again.
History class. Same too-warm room, same clatter of boots and coffee cups and over-eager discussion. But this time, the empty seat across the classroom, wasn't empty anymore.
He was there.
The boy in black.
Same coat. Same stillness. Same air of wrongness she couldn't shake. He sat two rows back, by the wall, as far away from others as he could. No books. No laptop. Just a pen and a closed notebook, untouched. It was like he was only there to watch.
Morrigan's breath caught, sharp and soundless.
He looked the same, almost exactly the same.
It was as if he'd been plucked from that moment beneath the ash trees and pasted into this one. Not a hair out of place. Skin like marble. Eyes fixed forward with such unflinching calm, it unnerved her.
She spent most of the class pretending not to glance at him, but her body betrayed her- her eyes flicking over like magnets, her brain failing to process a single word the professor was saying.
The strangest part? No one else seemed to notice him. Not even when he stood to leave at the end, moving with quiet grace and steps that made no sound at all against the wooden floor. Just slipped out the back and disappeared.
The next day, he was there again.
And the next.
And every time, the curiosity bloomed like a bruise in her chest: quiet, spreading and inevitable.
On the fourth day, Morrigan mustered up the courage to sit one row closer.
Her hand shook slightly as she opened her notebook, but she ignored it and forced herself to breathe steady. He hadn't looked at her once, not a single glance. Not even when she dropped her pen and it rolled by his foot. He just sat there, still as death.
On the sixth day, she tried to speak to him.
After class, when most students filtered out, she lingered by the doorway. She watched him pack up his things- or rather, close his empty notebook and slip it into his coat. That was all, not even a pen this time.
As he headed her way, Morrigan prepared herself. Why she was so nervous, she had no idea. The man was eerie, strange. She didn't know what to expect.
"Hi," she said, the word dry and awkward on her tongue.
He stopped, then slowly looked down at her.
His eyes were cold up close; a pale shade of green, the only colour on his person. It was like staring at the frosted-over grass outside.
"Do I know you?" he asked, voice flat, accent light but unplaceable.
"No, I- Uh.. I've just seen you around. I thought I'd say hello." She immediately regretted it. Her voice sounded small and meek like a rabbit in the presence of a wolf.
He studied her for a moment that felt like a full minute. His gaze wasn't cruel, just.. Detached. Like someone watching a bird crash into a window- distantly saddened, but unmoved.
"There's no reason to." He said, finally.
Then he walked past her, his coat brushing at her side like the cold wind outside. Like a warning breeze before the blizzard.
Morrigan stood there, alone by the door, her heart twisting itself in knots she couldn't explain. For the first time in weeks, she felt something dangerously close to morbid curiosity.
Later, at home, he was the only thing on her mind. She didn't know whether to take a disliking to him or not. Was he being cruel? His eyes said otherwise. His gaze wasn't cruel, his words were. Or maybe they weren't. Maybe he was in a rush. Maybe he's timid. No, his voice was clear, deep and direct.
She was confusing herself the more she thought about it. She didn't know why this stranger had carved such a space in her thoughts, but he had.
To take her mind off it, she decided to watch a show. She was only ever half paying attention. God, what was wrong with her? Sleep. That's what she needed. Sleep.
Closing her eyes, Morrigan started to drift off. A strong feeling of unease followed her to bed, but out of stubbornness, she ignored it.
She was standing in the woods.
Barefoot. Cold.
The trees rose around her- bare ash branches like skeletal fingers clawing the sky. Mist laced the undergrowth, thick and silver, curling around her ankles. The moon hung low and full, a bruised purple sky behind a haze of clouds, no stars could be seen.
She wasn't alone, she could sense it. The lingering feeling of eyes on her. Looking around, she noticed a tall figure.
The boy from class.
Samael.
Despite never having heard his name, she knew it in her dream. She wasn't sure how it came to mind, but she knew for sure that it was his name.
He looked the same as always- coat black as ink, hair shifting in the windy dark. Pale skin, still, untouched by the cold that was beginning to bite into her skin. His pale green eyes met her steel blue ones, and something inside her went still.
Not with fear, but with recognition.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, though her voice barely carried. The words floated, frozen, like they didn't belong in the air.
"I could ask you the same." He said. His voice sounded closer than he stood.
Morrigan took a step forward, and the frost beneath her feet cracked and crunched like glass. She took another step, and another, trying to reach him.
He, Samael, didn't move, but the space between them bent somehow, growing thinner.
"I saw you," She whispered.
"You weren't supposed to."
She was close enough now to see the unnatural stillness of his form. Not stiff- but paused. As though something held him just by this side of motion.
She reached out, slowly, her fingertips brushing the soft fabric of his coat. It was cold, not like winter. Not like snow. Cold like absence.
"Who are you?"
He leaned down, only slightly, and said the softest, most terrifying thing he could have said.
"You'll find out, when it's time, Morrigan"
Then, his hand reached for hers- icy and fragile- and pressed it flat to his chest.
No heartbeat.
No rise and fall.
And yet, she felt something in there. Not warmth, but weight. A heaviness wrapped in longing.
"You don't belong here, not yet."
His fingers slipped from hers, and the trees around them had started to shatter. One by one, falling into the mist like crumbling paper. The moon split open the bruised sky, revealing vast and empty darkness.
She gasped-
And woke.
Her bedsheets were twisted around her legs, her skin clammy with sweat despite the chill in her apartment. The clock read 3:33am, her heart pounded, alive and loud.
Morrigan sat up, trying to forget the cold, to forget the way her name sounded when he said it. Her breath returned, and her heart still pounded, but her fingers- her fingers still remembered his.
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