"Your... your eyes, you are the..." The words barely leave my mouth as the realization slams into me harder with every second I hold his gaze.
My stomach tightens, and a cold shiver works down my spine. Those eyes, I've seen them before.
I know them.
They're the very same ones from the picture. There's no mistake. The shape of the pupils, this hazel type.
I fumble for my phone, my fingers trembling as I unlock the screen. My heart pounds against my ribs like it wants out.
I pull up the photo we took as a group during the trip. My hands are shaking so badly the screen blurs, but I manage to steady it long enough to compare.
The eyes match perfectly. Same depth, same sharpness. But the rest of his face... it's not the same. His face is different. Like it's not even the same person, and yet those eyes...
"Oh God, what is happening to me?" I whisper, my voice tight and fragile, cracking under the weight of whatever the hell this is.
A deep ache pulses in my temples. I raise a hand and rub at them, but it's no use, the pressure only builds. My head feels like it's about to split in two.
"Yes, it was me yesterday," the guy says. His voice is deep, rich, and oddly soothing. It slides into my ears like silk, anchors itself inside me, calms the tremor in my fingers, for a second, at least. It doesn't make sense. None of this does.
I just stare at him, waiting, hoping for more, something that will make it all click into place, but I'm tired. So goddamn tired. Whatever wants to happen, let it. I don't have the strength to fight it anymore.
"The beards and everything was fake," he says.
That's it. Nothing else. Just that flat, emotionless statement and silence.
I blink. My mind spins. That's all he has to say?
I want to scream. I want to cry. But I don't do either. Instead, my mind latches onto the only thing that makes sense.
Okay... maybe if I just undo the wish. Just take it all back. Go home, forget this place, forget him, and be normal again. That sounds good. That sounds safe.
But before I can say anything, he steps closer. His hand twitches slightly, like he's about to reach out to me. He doesn't. He stops himself. Turns away. Frustration tightens every line of his body, stiff and unreadable.
I ignore it,
"I didn't mean what I wished for yesterday," I say quickly, desperate now, "and I want to get rid of that thing, because I know it is happening to me!"
"Then follow me," he says immediately, calm as ever, turning and walking away like it's already decided.
"Follow you where? I can't just follow a stranger not even knowing where I'm going!" My voice cracks, and I hate how pathetic I sound.
"I thought you said you want to get rid of your wish," he says over his shoulder, tone maddeningly flat.
"That doesn't mean I can just follow a stranger with no idea where he's taking me!"
"Are you gonna come or not?" Still no emotion. Just the same deadpan calm.
"Fuck it," I curse under my breath and follow, weaving through the trees. When we reach the edge of the park, a tall, towering wall looms in front of us.
Without a word, he leaps, springing from tree to tree, even those spaced far apart, before vaulting over the wall with an ease that shouldn't be possible. I hear the thud as he lands smoothly on the other side.
"What on earth is this?" I mutter, eyes wide.
"When you're done muttering to yourself, jump over. We don't have much time," his voice calls out from beyond the wall, calm and impatient.
How am I supposed to do that?! Still, I force myself forward. Mimicking what he did, I move, my limbs almost acting on their own, faster, stronger, more agile than I've ever known them to be.
And just like that, I find myself outside, landing beside him without so much as a stumble.
He doesn't wait for me to catch my breath or process how I just did that. He starts walking again, through narrow, overgrown paths, bushes brushing against us.
The further we go, the more the world around us seems to shift into something unknown.
At one point, I slow down and stop following. "Where the hell are you taking me?" I demand, my voice cutting through the silence.
But every time I question him, every time I try to pull back, all he says is:
"If you go back, you'll wish you never had."
And something about the way he says it_ flat, final, certain, makes my chest squeeze. The dread that's been simmering just under the surface rises.
"Then can you at least just tell me what is happening? Please!" The words slip out desperate, almost begging. I hate how weak I sound, but I'm so tired of feeling like I'm drowning.
He says nothing. Just keeps walking.
The forest thickens. Darkness folds in around us. The trees close ranks like they're swallowing the path whole.
"Alright! Fuck all this!" I stop walking, my chest heaving. "If going back means dying, then so be it, because I'm not going any further! I don't care what happens! I'm going back to lie in my bed and wait for whatever's bound to happen!"
I turn to leave but he grabs my wrist and yanks me back.
My back hits the rough bark of a tree. Hard. He's suddenly close. Too close. His body cages mine without touching.
His grip on my wrist is firm, unshakable. My skin burns under his fingers, a strange heat spreading like a pulse through my entire arm and down to my chest.
My heart thunders so loud I think it might burst.
"You did this to yourself," he growls, voice low, voice sharp. "And for your information, there's no turning back. Mo..."
He cuts off abruptly. His eyes snap to something behind me.
"Shit," he breathes.
The fear in his voice steals the breath from my lungs. "Shit!" He repeats.
I twist to look.
Dozens of golden eyes stare back from the shadows. Moving.
"What the hell…" I whisper.
"Shut!" he barks, panic cracking through his tone. He grabs my hand, pulling hard. "Run!"
Then he lets go, takes off.
"Run as fast as possible!" he says over his shoulder.
I don't hesitate. I don't even think. My body reacts before my mind does. I bolt after him. The darkness should've swallowed us, but somehow, I can see.
Everything is sharper, clearer. The roots underfoot, the movement of branches, the glint of moonlight on leaves. I feel lighter, faster.
And still, none of this makes sense.
But I keep running, following him.