It began with a phone call.
A muffled ringtone echoed in the nearly empty classroom where Kieran had dozed off after school. He checked the caller ID. No name. Just a number. But he knew it.
His hand hovered over the screen before finally answering.
"Where are you hiding, ghost?" a voice crackled through. Male. Rough. Familiar.
Kieran's expression darkened.
"You're wasting your time."
"Boss says hi. He's not done with you."
The line went dead.
---
At the same time, Leo was wiping down tables at the café where he worked weekends. The day had been slow. Only two customers remained, both glued to their phones. Clara was texting him something ridiculous about the club uniforms when the door opened—and in walked a guy in a black hoodie, face shadowed, posture stiff.
Leo straightened, sensing something was… off.
The guy didn't order. Didn't sit. Just stood near the window, glancing around.
Then he left.
Fast.
Leo watched him go, unease settling in his stomach.
---
Back at school the next day, Kieran was colder. Distant. He barely spoke to Leo, even during their usual study session.
Leo finally slammed his notebook shut. "Okay. What's going on?"
Kieran didn't answer.
Leo leaned forward, voice quieter. "You think I can't tell when something's wrong?"
Kieran stood abruptly. "This isn't your business."
"Then make it my business."
Kieran met his eyes. And for a second—just a second—the mask cracked. Fear. Rage. Guilt. All there in one flicker before he looked away.
"You don't know what I've done," he muttered, then walked off.
Leo didn't follow.
But something told him whatever Kieran was running from… it was getting closer.