"If they realize we can see them… it won't be a session anymore."
Adrian's voice lingered in the air, caught between them.
Then the light went out.
Clara held her breath.
In the dark, she could only hear her own breathing, uneven, too close to her ears.
She tried to speak.
"Adrian?"
No answer.
She stepped back, searching for the wall, but her fingers met nothing.
"Adrian!"
Still silence.
Then a faint sound: something tapping against glass.
The light flickered, sputtered, then blinked back on.
Clara turned.
Adrian was there again.
He stood in front of her, perfectly still, as if he had never moved.
But not in the same place.
And his eyes… they were calmer. Too calm for someone who had just disappeared.
"Where were you?" she asked.
He looked at her, then simply said:
"Here."
"No. You weren't."
A faint, almost sad smile.
"Not in the way you mean."
A shiver ran down her spine.
"What did you do?"
"I left."
"Left where?"
"From you."
They stared at each other: too long, too quietly.
The hum of the light filled the space like a held breath.
Clara took a step closer.
"You can't just vanish like that."
Adrian lowered his gaze.
"If I'd stayed… I don't know what I would've done."
She moved closer still.
"What do you mean?"
"You know what I mean."
His words struck her harder than his tone.
There was no anger, only truth and it terrified her.
"Every time the light goes out," he said softly, "I feel something change.
And when it comes back, you're always the same.
That's what confuses me."
Clara shook her head.
"You're saying the light takes you away?"
"Maybe not the light. Maybe you."
She almost laughed, but the sound died in her throat.
She took one more step, close enough to feel his breath.
"Is it really you, Adrian?"
He met her eyes.
"That depends on when you ask."
Clara reached out, her fingers brushing the sleeve of his shirt.
Cold. Too cold.
"When the light goes out," he murmured, "I lose control."
"Of what?"
"Of everything I shouldn't want."
Clara froze.
Adrian's eyes were a storm barely contained.
"Don't look at me like that," he whispered.
"How?"
"Like you want to save me. That's not what's going to happen."
A faint sound broke the stillness.
On the desk, Clara's pen was moving by itself, gliding across a blank page, ink appearing on its own.
She stepped closer, unable to look away.
The words formed clearly:
Session 9 – The patient admits he can't remain present for too long. He dissolves when contact exceeds the limit.
She lifted her eyes.
Adrian was staring back, motionless.
"Where do you go when you disappear?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.
He smiled faintly, though his eyes didn't.
"To you."
Her heartbeat stumbled.
"What does that mean?"
"It means every time you look for me… you make me real."
She took a step back.
The pen kept writing on its own.
Just one more line, slow and precise:
Session concluded.
Clara turned toward Adrian but the space where he'd been standing was empty.
Then his voice, right behind her, soft as a breath:
"Don't let me stay."
The light went out again.