I rub my hands together, and a cloud of chalk dust rises around me.
Last night was way too intense to process on just six hours of restless sleep. Amid the nightmares, there was also a strange dream: a warm voice, bathed in light, spoke solemnly, telling me to awaken my dormant power. It sounded like it knew everything about me — like it had been waiting for this moment forever.
When I woke up, I had an insane urge to climb a few walls.
Hence the gym. And despite the lack of sleep, I've got energy to burn.
"You're pumped today!"
"Yeah, see?" I reply, grinning at Enrico, my bouldering instructor.
"I want to see how you handle the new wall over there. Some interesting holds. Feed my ego — show me what you've got!" His usual warm, lively voice comes with a strong pat on my back.
Today, he's rocking a Metallica T-shirt that barely contains his sculpted chest and defined shoulders. I drool openly.
So damn gorgeous.
I'm such a loser. I can't help it — everything about him appeals to me.
His sun-kissed skin, the scruffy beard, and that rebellious tuft of long hair he constantly brushes aside with one hand. The lower-lip piercing, the metalhead style — he doesn't try to look cool, he just is.
But what I love most about Enrico is his mindset. I envy it like crazy. Years ago, he had a horrific motorcycle accident — went under a guardrail, compound fracture, three surgeries, and eventually lost half a leg. He tells it like a joke.
And yet, he came back to climbing, still rides his bike, lives joyfully, refusing to let that trauma define him. I don't even know how he does it.
That's why I admire him so much.
And I sigh like a teenage girl watching her secret crush, fully aware she'll never be noticed.
Yeah, because Enrico is straight. To him, I'll always be just a bro.
Of course, he has no idea I'm gay. Or that I joined this gym just to see him. Or that I've been crushing on him for four years.
I take another deep breath. Gripping the first hold of the next wall, I launch upward, muscles straining, heart hammering. Momentum carries me to the top in no time.
Then I hang from one arm for a few seconds before dropping to the mats below.
I lie on my back, staring at the gym ceiling. The fluorescent lights buzz, harshly bright, stabbing at my eyes. Bright lights…
After last night — after being attacked by what apparently was a demon — I've had to seriously reconsider my… let's say, mental flexibility regarding Fiore's story.
After that surreal fight, he escorted me to the Fairgrounds. Fiore launched into a long explanation — syntax I could follow. Meaning? Not so much.
"Your Intuition is like a superpower," he said. "It lets you lift the Veil and see the Fantastic Creatures."
He used those exact words.
"It's not really new. You could already do it as a child. I know you don't remember, but your parents were Intuitives too."
Then he went quiet for a moment.
"But after the accident, you stopped. Stopped lifting the Veil, stopped looking for me… and eventually, you even stopped seeing me," his voice dropping, almost sorrowful.
"Things between the two Worlds are messy right now. Weird disappearances aren't just hitting the Real World—the Fantastic World's in chaos too. I'll fill you in tomorrow; all that action's left me starving. I need to snag some food."
After leaving his number in my phone, he vanished. I stayed at the entrance of the Fairgrounds pavilion, frozen like a statue for a solid ten minutes.
Later, Romina gave me (rightfully) a piece of her mind for keeping her anxious for over an hour. I didn't have the heart to tell her exactly what had happened—just that "I met the stalker," then, "well, he's not really a stalker." Promising never to pull a stunt like that again, I walked her home.
I stand up, wiping sweat from my forehead with my forearm.
We were friends as kids, right? Yet I remember nothing. I try to push my memory, but nothing comes into focus. I don't have many childhood memories; I think my brain snapped into protection mode after my parents died, locking them all in a mental matryoshka of drawers.
My phone vibrates, cutting through my thoughts. I grab it while taking a sip from my water bottle.
It's Fiore. 'Brunch?'
"Telegraphic, huh," I mutter, raising an eyebrow.
I've got no clue what's going on, but yeah… I'm intrigued. I want to figure this circus out.
'Give me an hour, I'm at the gym' I reply, sliding the phone into my pocket.
Better take a shower first.