(Barney's title suggestion, obviously.)
The morning was… normal.
Uncomfortably normal.
Hale blinked awake before his alarm. The soft buzz of his phone said 6:48 AM. No cold. No whispers. No carved names in the wall. Just birds chirping faintly outside, and the quiet rustle of the wind through his barely cracked window.
His chest didn't ache. The mark wasn't glowing.
No missing sketches. No twisted memories.
The spiral from last night still lingered in his mind, but it felt dull now—like a dream that had faded with the sunrise.
He made toast. It didn't burn this time.
The cat with one eye still hadn't returned.
He stared at the empty rug for a moment longer than necessary before grabbing his bag and heading to school.
The halls were loud again.
Laughter. Lockers slamming. Teachers barking late slips.
Hale moved through the crowd like a shadow, nodding at a few familiar faces. And then, as if summoned by bad timing and bad taste—
"Look who survived the night again," Barney called, slapping him on the back.
Hale offered a tired smirk. "Didn't know I was supposed to die."
Barney grinned. "You never know, man. Life's just Final Destination in slow motion."
He walked backwards, weaving through the crowd like a street performer. "Also, I brought you something."
He pulled out a snack-sized bag of chips and tossed it to Hale.
Hale caught it mid-air.
"Why?"
Barney shrugged. "You looked like you were going through something. Thought maybe food therapy would help. Also, they're expired."
Classic Barney.
Classes were a blur.
Science. Literature. Lunch.
Nothing strange. No whispers in the vents. No flickering lights. Just teachers talking too long and kids pretending to care.
In art class, Ivy was already seated when he walked in.
She glanced up at him. And… smiled.
Not her usual tight, reserved smile. A real one. Gentle. Warm.
Hale sat beside her cautiously.
"Didn't expect you to be early," he said.
She shrugged. "Didn't expect you to talk."
He glanced at her drawing—a forest scene, charcoal on textured paper. Twisted trees. A single open path.
It was… peaceful.
Maybe the first peaceful thing he'd seen in days.
They worked side by side in silence. No weird drawings. No keyholes. No twin nightmares.
Just charcoal and conversation.
School ended too quietly.
Barney vanished right after final period, muttering something about "a secret mission involving three vending machines and a mop." Hale didn't ask.
He wandered downtown instead. Bought a bottle of iced tea. Sat on a bench.
And that's when he heard someone clear their throat.
Ivy stood there, bag slung over one shoulder, wearing a jacket he hadn't seen before.
"You stalking me?" she asked.
He snorted. "You're the one that showed up."
She tilted her head. "Then I guess you're being stalked."
He couldn't help it—he laughed.
They ended up walking together. Talking about dumb school stuff. Favorite movies. Dreams they barely remembered. Ivy talked more than usual. Less guarded. Almost like she wasn't carrying a weight today.
And Hale?
For the first time in what felt like forever, he didn't feel like he was unraveling.
Just existing.
The sun dipped below the skyline.
They split paths at a street corner, under a flickering old traffic light.
"Same time tomorrow?" Ivy asked.
Hale nodded. "Sure."
She hesitated. Then smiled again. "You're not as weird as you look."
"Thanks. I think."
She waved. "Night, Hale."
He stood there long after she turned the corner.
Then he walked home.
That night, he ate dinner. Finished homework. Read a few pages of a book he wouldn't remember the title of.
He lay in bed.
Closed his eyes.
No cold.
No dreams.
No scratching at the walls.
And nothing happened.
Not yet.