Chapter 10: Rainy Days and Sinister Shadows
"This is so boring." Emris slumped next to Roya in the quiet bookstore, tossing the book he'd been pretending to read onto the shelf. With a lazy flick of his hand, it zoomed back into place through his magic, unnoticed by anyone nearby. Not that there were many people left; the place was nearly empty, save for the occasional murmured conversation and the soft patter of rain against the windows.
The bookstore was peaceful, the kind of place Roya thrived in. Shelves packed with endless stories, the scent of aged pages, the soft glow of dim lights. She sat on a plush armchair with a Starbucks coffee in one hand, sipping quietly as her other hand turned the pages of the thick novel she had been buried in for the last hour.
Outside, it poured. Heavy rain cascaded against the glass, a constant downpour that seemed never-ending. Dark clouds hung low, and the occasional flash of lightning split the sky. For most, it was dreary. For Roya, it was perfect. The storm matched her mood—quietly turbulent, dark, a storm always brewing just beneath the surface. It felt like home.
Emris, on the other hand, was restless. He stood, pacing in the tight space between shelves, running a hand through his dark black hair—still sore about the prank she'd pulled with his shampoo. The color shift only made his already sharp features more striking, more devastatingly handsome. Not that Roya would ever tell him that.
Emris poked at her side, clearly annoyed that she was ignoring him. "This is torture. How are you not bored out of your mind?"
Roya didn't even look up. "I'm not," she said simply, sipping her coffee, her eyes scanning the pages of her book. She loved this—loved the silence, loved the isolation. Being wrapped up in a good story was the only thing that let her forget, even for a moment, how broken she really was.
Emris leaned closer, his voice practically in her ear. "You checked the weather, right? You knew it was going to rain?"
"Obviously," she replied, her tone flat. "That's why I came out."
Emris snorted, clearly annoyed by her indifference. He snapped her book shut, grinning like a mischievous child as she looked up, scowling. Before she could protest, he snatched the book from her hands and held it above his head. "This is payback for the shampoo," he said smugly, watching her struggle to reach it.
"Give it back, you idiot," Roya muttered, standing and trying to snatch the book from him. But Emris, with his infuriating height, kept it just out of reach, grinning all the while. He seemed to be having far too much fun with this.
"What's wrong, Dream?" he taunted, his voice dripping with mock sweetness. "Can't reach?"
She glared at him, irritation flashing in her dark eyes. He had the nerve to stand there, enjoying himself, while they were pressed far too close for comfort. Her chest was almost brushing his, and her heart was beating faster than it should be. She hated how much she noticed his stupidly good looks, even with his ridiculous antics.
"You're insufferable," she muttered.
"And you're short," he teased.
With a growl, she did the only thing she could think of—she knocked her knuckles into his ribs. Hard. He yelped, startled, and the book slipped from his grip. She snatched it back before he could react, smirking as she sat down again. "Good job, genius."
Emris rubbed his side, pouting. "That hurt."
"Good."
He slumped back onto the armchair beside her, his boredom palpable. The bookstore, quiet and serene, wasn't enough to distract him from the gnawing feeling in his chest—the restless energy that came from being stuck in this new life, tethered to her, of all people. The one who had written his end. He still didn't know what to do with her—kill her? Torment her? Maybe both. But the more he spent time with her, the more complicated it became.
"I hate you," he mumbled, more to himself than to her.
"I know," she said, unbothered, flipping another page.
But he didn't hate her. Not really. He hated how she made him feel—like there was something more to this life, something beyond the rage and betrayal. He hated how his chest tightened when she was near. He hated how, despite everything, he wanted her attention. He was like an annoying mosquito, buzzing in her ear.
After a moment of tense silence, Roya finally sighed, her patience wearing thin. "Fine. Let's go somewhere that'll keep you busy."
His eyes lit up, curiosity piqued. "Where?"
"An arcade," she said, standing and heading to the counter. "At least there, you can be distracted."
As she approached the teenage cashier to pay for her book, the girl's eyes widened in recognition. "Oh my God! Inkdreamer!" she squealed, practically vibrating with excitement. "I love your books so much! Especially the way you write the darker characters. You're amazing!"
Roya gave her a small smile, but the excitement in the girl's eyes didn't quite reach her. All she felt was a distant, hollow emptiness. Still, she had learned to play the part. "Thank you," she said politely, handing over the money for her book.
But Emris wasn't having any of it. He sauntered up to the counter, flashing the girl one of his signature, heart-stopping smiles. "Excuse me, kid," he drawled, leaning over the counter. "But how can you ignore this face? It's practically illegal."
The girl blinked, taken aback. Her eyes flicked to his dark hair and piercing blue eyes. "You... You look just like Emris Malachai! If he had black hair."
"Dream here just can't get enough of me," Emris said, flashing a cocky grin. "I'm her muse, you see. Obsessed, really."
The teenager's jaw dropped. "Wait... are you her boyfriend?"
Roya's eyes darkened, and before she could respond, Emris leaned in, whispering conspiratorially, "She's a little possessive, but don't worry, darling. She has her... moments."
Roya shot him a sharp look, but before she could retort, the girl sighed in disappointment, clearly heartbroken. "I can't believe it... my idol is dating her muse."
"Is that what you're telling people now?" Roya said dryly, but Emris ignored her, still basking in the attention.
But then, just as they turned to leave, something shifted in the air. Emris stiffened, his body going rigid as if sensing something dark lurking just beyond their reach. Roya noticed the sudden change in his demeanor, her brow furrowing. "What's wrong?"
He glanced over his shoulder toward the bookstore, his eyes narrowing. "Something feels off."
Roya followed his gaze but saw nothing out of the ordinary. The rain outside continued its relentless downpour, and the few customers left in the store seemed blissfully unaware. "You're paranoid."
Emris's jaw clenched. "Maybe."
Stepping outside, the rain drenched them immediately. Roya didn't seem to mind, her face tilted up toward the sky, allowing the heavy droplets to soak through her clothes. It felt like home—the cold, the thunder in the distance. She reveled in it. For a moment, she forgot Emris was even there.
But Emris, always the dramatic one, rushed to catch up with her, pulling off his leather jacket and holding it over her head. "You're going to get sick, you idiot," he muttered, trying to shelter her from the rain.
She stared at him, baffled by the gesture. He blocked the downpour with his jacket, his blue eyes fixed on her as the storm raged around them. She could feel her heart stutter, her stomach churning with unfamiliar emotions. He was doing it again—making her feel.
"You can't die from illness," he muttered under his breath, as though convincing himself. "I'm the only one who gets to kill you."
Roya wanted to roll her eyes, but something about the way he said it—the underlying tension in his voice—made her pause. It wasn't about the words. It was the way he was looking at her, like he wasn't quite sure if he wanted to kill her or kiss her. She hated how much it unnerved her.
Just as they disappeared into the rain-soaked streets, the sinister presence they had unknowingly left behind made its move.
Back in the bookstore, the teenage cashier lay slumped on the counter, her wide eyes staring lifelessly at the ceiling. Blood pooled beneath her body, seeping slowly across the wooden floor.
And standing over her, a figure cloaked in shadows traced a finger along the signed book Roya had handed over moments before. His dark eyes glimmered with malevolent intent as he whispered her name with chilling certainty.
"Dream," he murmured, a slow smile curling at his lips. "Found you."