The rain had eased to a drizzle as Joshua Wise trudged home from Raj's garage, his polished black leather oxfords splashing through shallow puddles. London's streets thrummed with evening life—streetlights flickering like they were whispering secrets, vendors hawking hot pies from steaming carts, and buses rumbling past with horns blaring in the fading light. The alley's violet shimmer from earlier haunted him, that jagged tear in reality and the shadowy figure with glowing white eyes whispering "Not yet." His stomach twisted, a knot of unease he couldn't shake. Just my imagination, he told himself, but Yumi's sketches—moons, rifts—flashed in his mind like a warning.
"Hey, Josh! You look like a drowned rat!" Mrs. Patel called from her stoop, her umbrella bobbing as she sorted carrots from a market bag, her tabby cat weaving around her ankles like a furry escort.
Joshua forced a grin, waving back. "Yeah, Mrs. P. Weather's winning today." Her warmth steadied him for a moment, a reminder that the world was still ordinary, even if it felt cracked at the edges.
Further along the row houses, little Timmy from next door zipped by on his bike, tires hissing through the wet. "Josh! Race ya to the corner?" the kid shouted, his helmet askew, backpack bouncing wildly.
"Not today, Tim," Joshua called, ruffling the boy's hair as he pedaled past. "Save some speed for school tomorrow." Timmy whooped and sped off, leaving Joshua with a faint smile. Kids like him made the streets feel alive, full of noise and motion that drowned out the quiet dread in his gut.
Constable Harris leaned against a lamppost up ahead, his dark blue uniform stark against the gray dusk, chatting with a cluster of shopkeepers closing up. He tipped his cap as Joshua approached, mustache twitching under a wry grin. "Evening, lad. Stay out of trouble, yeah? These lights been flickering odd lately—gives me the creeps."
"Will do, sir," Joshua mumbled, his oxfords clicking faster on the pavement. The streetlights did hum faintly as he passed, a low buzz like the alley's strange song echoing in his ears. His fingers twitched in his pockets, itching to scribble a lyric about it—"Shadows sing, but the world's too loud…"—but he pushed the thought down. No time for poetry when his head was spinning.
By the time he reached his apartment building, the drizzle had faded further, leaving only damp streets shimmering under the early evening lights. "Josh! You look like a drowned rat!" Joshua looked up to see Annette, his mother, on the doorway steps, adjusting her nurse's bag and umbrella. Her smile was a warm anchor in the otherwise gray city. "Yeah… weather's winning today," he muttered, forcing a grin. Annette ruffled his hair, and for a moment, he allowed himself to relax. "Dinner's nearly ready," she called over her shoulder. "And no staying out too late, alright?" Joshua nodded and stepped inside, the door creaking shut behind him. Inside, the narrow hallway smelled of damp carpet, faint cooking aromas, and the faint tang of antiseptic lingering from Annette's long day. He kicked off his oxfords and trudged to his room, a familiar mess: notebooks splayed open on the desk, guitar picks scattered like confetti, posters of old bands peeling at the edges. He flopped onto his bed, the springs groaning under his weight, and pulled out his phone. The screen glowed in the dim light, Yumi's contact staring back at him like a dare. Hey, your sketches are amazing. Wanna hang out sometime? His thumb hovered over send, heart thudding against his ribs. What if she thought he was just another guy fumbling for attention? What if she laughed—or worse, ghosted him? He deleted it, fingers flying over the keys again: Saw your drawings today. They're stuck in my head. Night. Too vague. Rewrite: Yo, Yumi. Your rift sketches are cool as hell. Sweet dreams. He hit send before he could overthink it, then immediately regretted it, burying his face in his pillow with a muffled groan. Real smooth, Josh. Like a lyric that doesn't rhyme.
Sleep came in fits, haunted by whispers in the dark and a distant cry like a song from another world. The alley's violet hum lingered in his dreams, pulling at him like an unseen thread. By morning, the rain had cleared, leaving the air crisp and the streets slick with promise. Joshua was up early, his blazer a touch less rumpled than usual, tie knotted just tight enough to pass muster. He arrived at school before the first bell, the courtyard still half-asleep, dew clinging to the benches like forgotten jewels.
The community garden was tucked against the brick wall, a patch of green defiance in the concrete sprawl. Yumi was already there, kneeling among the flowerbeds, her dark hair tied back in a loose ponytail that swayed as she worked. She wore a simple green sweater, dirt smudged on her jeans, her fingers gentle as she pruned a rosebush. The flowers around her bloomed unnaturally vibrant—crimson petals edged in violet, glowing faintly as if lit from within, defying the overcast sky. Joshua's stomach twisted again, the same dread from the alley coiling tight. Weird, he thought, but he couldn't look away.
"Morning, Yumi," he called, his voice cracking like dry leaves. He cringed inwardly, shoving his hands into his pockets to hide the tremor.
She looked up, brown eyes lighting with surprise, then warmth. "Josh? You're early for once. Like the garden? These roses are going nuts lately—blooming like it's spring." She gestured to a cluster, their petals pulsing softly, almost like a heartbeat under the skin.
"Yeah, they're… intense," he said, stepping closer, his oxfords crunching on the gravel path. The air felt heavy here, charged, like the moments before a storm breaks. Up close, the glow was even stranger, casting faint shadows that didn't quite match the light. "Your sketches from yesterday—those rifts. They look just like this. Where do you get the ideas?"
Yumi stood, brushing soil from her hands, a shy smile tugging at her lips. "Dunno, really. Dreams, I guess? They feel so real, like I've seen them somewhere. Creepy, right?" She tilted her head, studying him. "You okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."
Joshua laughed it off, but his cheeks flushed pink, the heat rising under his fair skin. "Nah, just… tired. Wanna play chess in the library later? I need a rematch after last time."
Her eyes sparkled. "You're on. But don't cry when I win again."
The bell rang then, and the courtyard flooded with students—classmates spilling out like a tide, backpacks thumping, laughter echoing off the walls. Leo, Joshua's lanky mate with the perpetual grin, clapped him on the shoulder as he jogged past. "Josh! Heard you aced that essay. Yumi's garden looking wild today, eh? Those flowers are straight out of a sci-fi flick."
"Yeah, man," Joshua replied, forcing nonchalance. "She's got the magic touch."
Across the yard, Priya— the eccentric storyteller from history class, with her wild curls and endless tales of moon heroes—waved from a bench, her notebook open to sketches that looked eerily like Yumi's. "Josh! Come hear this one—it's about rifts swallowing cities whole!" Her voice carried, drawing giggles from a group of girls nearby, including Elena, the community organizer who always had a clipboard and a cause.
Joshua waved back, but his eyes stuck on Yumi as she gathered her tools. The school buzzed around them: lockers slamming, sneakers squeaking on tile, the chatter of a hundred voices blending into a familiar roar. It grounded him, made the garden's glow feel like just another oddity in a world full of them.
The library was a sanctuary by lunch, sunlight slanting through tall windows onto rows of dusty shelves. The air smelled of old paper and polished wood, the only sounds the rustle of pages and the distant hum of the courtyard. Joshua and Yumi claimed a corner table, the chessboard between them like a battlefield of carved knights and pawns. She moved first, her bishop slicing forward with quiet confidence.
"You're quiet today," she said after his third hesitant turn, her knight leaping to threaten his queen. "Something on your mind?"
Joshua's fingers hovered over a pawn, his heart thudding. The garden's glow flickered in his memory, mingling with the alley's tear, and suddenly the words spilled out. "Your sketches… they're stuck in my head. Like, all of them. The moons, the rifts—they feel real. And… you. I can't stop thinking about you." His voice cracked, vulnerability crashing over him like a wave, his fair cheeks burning as he met her eyes. The room felt too small, the air too thick.
Yumi's hand paused mid-move, her brown eyes widening. "Josh… I—" A soft smile curved her lips, warm and tentative. "That's sweet. Really. I've noticed you too, you know? The way you hum those lyrics in class, like you're lost in your own world."
Outside the window, a shadow lingered in the branches—too long, too sharp, with a faint glint of white in its depths. Joshua didn't see it, but his stomach churned, the dread spiking sharp and sudden. The chess pieces blurred, his chest tightening like a vice.
"I mean it," he pressed, voice raw. "I like you. A lot. Like, more than sketches or chess or—" Pain lanced through him then, hot and twisting, doubling him over the board. Pawns scattered with a clatter. "Sorry—stomachache," he gasped, bolting upright. His oxfords pounded the floor as he fled the library, the door banging shut behind him.
Yumi called after him, but he didn't stop, weaving through the crowded halls where classmates blurred into faces—Leo shouting his name, Priya glancing up from her tales with a furrowed brow. Outside, the garden's glow pulsed brighter, unnatural violet threading through the crimson roses, like a rift straining at the seams. Joshua clutched his side, breath ragged, his behavior turning strange as the whispers from his dreams echoed louder: Not yet. The city's hum felt alive now, watching, waiting—and Yumi's notebook burned in his mind, those rifts calling him home.