THE DAY AFTER Y'KNOW
The classroom smelled faintly of chalk dust and burnt coffee—an unmistakable sign that a faculty member had been up too late pretending they still cared.
Professor Valdine stood at the front of the room, hands clasped behind his back, posture stiff with the self-importance of a man entrusted with rules no one truly respected.
"The Poe Cup," he began, voice echoing slightly off the stone walls, "commences tomorrow evening."
A collective groan rippled through the class.
Valdine ignored it.
"Today," he continued, "is a preparation day. No formal lessons. You will use this time to finalize your performances, costumes, and… interpersonal coordination."
His eyes flicked pointedly toward several students who had clearly done none of the above.
"Attendance will still be taken. Injuries will not excuse you. Death might."
A pause.
"…That was a joke."
No one laughed.
Toji leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, gaze unfocused. He hadn't slept much. Not because of nightmares—those were old companions—but because silence felt louder than usual.
Across the room, Enid kept her head down, scribbling something aggressively in her notebook that looked suspiciously like werewolf doodles wearing tiny cloaks.
They didn't look at each other.
They didn't need to.
When the bell rang, the room erupted into motion. Students poured out in clusters, buzzing with nervous energy and competitive dread.
Toji stood, grabbed his bag, and headed straight for Xavier.
Xavier was already spread out across a bench in the quad, sketchbook open, several sheets of paper scattered around him like evidence of creative violence.
Toji stopped in front of him.
"You need anything?" Toji asked flatly. "Supplies. Props. Blood sacrifices."
Xavier looked up, brightening immediately. "Actually? Yeah. Just show up tomorrow."
Toji raised a brow. "That's it?"
"And wear the costume," Xavier added, flipping the sketchbook around.
Toji leaned in.
Paused.
Stared.
The design was… elaborate. Excessively so. Ruffled collar. Oversized coat. Distorted pattern... basically a clown suit.
He pointed at the drawing.Specifically the face.
"What's that?"
Xavier smiled. "White face paint. It's in the theme."
Silence.
Toji straightened slowly.
"No."
Xavier blinked. "No?"
"I'm not doing that."
"It's Poe-themed! Gothic absurdism! It's supposed to look—"
Toji cut him off, staring directly into his eyes.
"I'm half Japanese," he said evenly. "And you want me to paint my face white."
The atmosphere detonated.
Xavier shot up from the bench like a man whose soul had briefly left his body.
"WHOA—NO—NO, THAT'S NOT—" He waved his arms wildly, panic setting in full force. "That's not what I meant! I didn't even think—oh my God, don't do it, don't wear it, I don't care, burn it, throw it away—"
Nearby students slowed, sensing drama.
Xavier lowered his voice, mortified. "Please. I am begging you. Wear whatever you want. I swear. No face paint. I'll rewrite the entire concept. I'll go minimalist. I'll go feral. I'll—"
Toji watched him spiral, face blank.
Inside, he was laughing so hard it bordered on spiritual. He didn't even know how he could keep his face straight.
"I'm kidding," Toji said finally.
Xavier froze. "You—what?"
"I'm kidding," Toji repeated. "Relax."
There was a long, stunned silence.
Then Xavier deflated, hands on his knees. "You're an Fucking asshole."
Toji shrugged. "You're dramatic."
Xavier squinted. "You're not mad?"
"No."
"…You smiled a little."
"No, I didn't."
Xavier stared at him.
Toji turned away. "Just bring the costume tomorrow. Without the paint."
As he walked off, Xavier called after him, "I hate that you're funny now!"
Toji didn't respond.
But for the first time all day—
The weight on his chest felt lighter.
But he didn't know how long that will last.
---
Toji rolled up to the café like he always did—engine low, controlled, not announcing himself. He killed the bike, pulled off his helmet, and took a second longer than necessary before going inside.
Not because he was anxious.
Because habits mattered.
The bell chimed when he entered.
Tyler was behind the counter, wiping it down with the same towel he always used, sleeves rolled up, hair slightly damp like he'd just splashed water on his face. He glanced up—and relaxed immediately.
"Oh. Hey," Tyler said. "Thought you ditched Nevermore for good."
"Not my style," Toji replied. "You been busy?"
Tyler shrugged. "Same crowd. Same caffeine addictions. Same terrible poetry students pretending they don't care."
Toji snorted. He slid onto a stool like he'd done a hundred times.
"Coffee," he said.
"Already making it."
No awkward pause. No distance. Just two people picking up a conversation that had paused, not ended.
Tyler set the mug down. "Haven't seen you in a few days."
"Stuff," Toji said.
"Yeah," Tyler replied easily. "That tracks."
They drank in silence for a moment. Comfortable. Familiar.
Then Tyler's fingers tightened slightly around the edge of the counter.
"Hey," he said, casual tone—but something underneath it was off. "Can I ask you something weird?"
Toji looked up.
"You ever get that feeling," Tyler continued, "like someone's standing behind you—but when you turn around, there's nothing there?"
Toji didn't answer immediately.
Tyler kept talking, like he needed to get it out.
"It's been happening for a few nights now. At first I thought it was stress. Or guilt. Or, you know—everything." He gave a half-smile that didn't reach his eyes. "But it's… different."
"How?" Toji asked.
Tyler hesitated.
"Like I'm being watched," he said. "Not judged. Not threatened. Just… observed."
Something cold slid down Toji's spine.
Tyler rubbed the back of his neck. "The nightmares started around the same time."
Toji's jaw tightened. "What kind of nightmares?"
Tyler exhaled slowly.
"The man in white."
Toji froze.
Tyler didn't notice. He was staring at the coffee machine now, like it might give him answers.
"He's not human," Tyler said. "I know that sounds obvious, but—he's wrong. Too tall. Too still. And his face…" He swallowed. "It's not a face anymore. It's like—teeth. Everywhere. Smiling where a smile shouldn't be."
Img:
The café felt quieter.
Too quiet.
Tyler finally looked at Toji again. "It started after we killed the Wendigo."
There it was.
The first time in a long time—Toji felt something unfamiliar tighten in his chest.
Nerves.
Not fear.
Not panic.
Recognition.
"Have you told anyone else this?" Toji asked.
Tyler shook his head quickly. "No. I sound insane."
"You don't," Toji said.
That made Tyler pause.
"…You don't think so?"
Toji stood, slow and deliberate. He placed a few bills on the counter.
"Nightmares don't come with patterns," he said. "Presences don't linger without intent."
Tyler's voice dropped. "So what is it?"
Toji met his eyes.
"Something that noticed you," he said calmly. "And hasn't decided what to do yet."
That did it.
Tyler's composure cracked—just a little.
"You're not joking."
"No."
Tyler swallowed. "So what do I do?"
Toji put his helmet under his arm.
"You keep living like normal," he said. "You don't acknowledge it. You don't invite it. And if anything changes—anything—you call me."
Tyler nodded slowly. "Okay."
Toji turned toward the door.
As his hand touched the handle, Tyler spoke again.
"…Hey, Toji?"
"Yeah."
"If that thing shows up," Tyler said quietly, "do you think it followed me?"
Toji didn't turn around.
"No," he said. "I think it woke up."
The bell chimed as he stepped back outside.
The sky had darkened while he was inside.
And for the first time since leaving the café—
Toji checked his surroundings before getting on his bike.
Unbeknownst to him floating eyes somewhere else was watching his everymove.