The Boy Who Comes and Goes

Aleah's POV

I was curled up in my sanctuary — my room dimly lit, ceiling fan spinning slow above me, its hum lulling my thoughts into rhythm. The world outside my walls blurred, but inside my mind, one image remained sharp: him.

That boy.

The one with the hoodie and the vanishing act.

I wasn't catching feelings — at least, that's what I told myself. It wasn't romance that stirred in me, but curiosity... heavy and restless. He felt like a puzzle I hadn't asked for but suddenly needed to solve. Not because I knew him, but because I wanted to.

There was something about the way he moved through spaces — like a shadow that didn't belong to the light. Quick. Elusive. Fleeting. He reminded me of a flash in a dream that fades before you can grasp it. And yet, each time he appeared — silent, unexpected — he tugged at something buried deep inside me.

It wasn't gentle.

It was a jolt, a shift in gravity. Like his presence brushed against walls I'd spent years building just to survive.

And I was scared.

Not of him — but of what it might mean to feel something so sudden.

Something real.

Something that could crack me open again.