"Because, (y/n)," Xavier sighed with a tinge of annoyance, "Now all of my dreams will be about you."

"Wait, like, you're gonna see my future?" You gleefully hissed, quieting your voice for the sleeping students hidden behind the doors lining the abandoned midnight hall. "Are you going to be my personal fortune teller, Xavier?"

"Your future, your past, your present," Xavier grudgingly listed. "Particularly the bad parts." He raised his eyebrows the way kids do when dreading a particularly bothersome household chore.  "Hope you don't have any dark secrets."

Nerves swam through your head like a whirlwind of colorful fish. If Xavier uncovered a terrifying dream about what had happened last Christmas, Nevermore would immediately expel you. If, disgusted with you, he spilled your secrets to Sheriff Galpin, 5 years jail time would be a generous penalty. 

"It could be worse. At least I'm cute." Was all you could think of to say.

"Not cute enough to make me like dreaming about you," Xavier uncharitably shot over the maroon shoulder of his shirt, cracking the door open until a thin bar of shadows appeared between the door edge and the wall. He slipped behind it, melting into the darkness. 

The rainy night thawed into a damp, drizzling morning. Tendrils of fog spilled over the mountaintops, obscuring Nevermore's outdoor walkways in a rolling carpet of haze. Students drifted sleepily through the clouds, sluggish underneath the tears of the dreary grey sky.

In Exotic Plant Biology, you bested Bianca in a competitive plant classification exercise. Her river-blue eyes glittered with hostility, but the teacher, Miss Thornhill, awarded you with a pleased smile. 

After classes, you shrugged into the bark-brown t-shirt of your Weathervane uniform. You pulled your hair into a high ponytail to accentuate your small, silver hoop earrings. Despite the sticky, unpleasant drizzle, you trekked through the eerily foggy woods to Jericho. 

Trees loomed like dark monsters among the clouds, clawing at you with craggly branches. You could barely see five feet in front of you. Edgy wariness spiked your bloodstream, as if malicious, grinning beasts might rip out from the mass of pure white and seize you at any moment. You wouldn't even see them coming. 

That's why you didn't see the blurry, tall figure until it emerged from the ghostly mist, towering directly over you. Adrenaline jolted you like lightning at its sudden materialization. 

"If you try anything, I'll beat you up," you aggressively warned, hands braced into fists. You didn't want to use your telekinetic abilities on anyone ever again. But alone in the gloomy, haunting woods, you were willing to compromise. Your heartbeat thrummed dangerously in your ears. 

"I wouldn't dream of it," the shadow raspily laughed.

"Tyler," you exhaled, relief pouring through you. Your fists relaxed. You took a tiny step closer, tilting up your chin to see his crooked smile through the thick fog. "You scared me. I didn't know you liked to lurk in creepy forests."

Suddenly, you wondered if you should be scared of encountering Tyler in the isolated woods. No witnesses. No one to hear you scream. 

"I didn't mean to scare you," Tyler said, lighting a cigarette and protecting it from the pattering rain with a cupped hand. "I come out here a lot. I like being alone." 

"Well, you're a scary person," you muttered under your breath. 

"You think I'm scary?" Tyler's lips quirked slightly. You couldn't tell if he felt hurt, flattered, or amused. He inhaled from the ashy cigarette, studying you. 

"I've heard things," you vaguely dodged. You hurt people, Tyler. You'd hurt me, if you knew what I was. Tyler slowly exhaled a stream of smoke that shimmied away in the fog. 

"Are you scared right now?" His serious, green eyes flickered between each of yours. The cold fog air whooshed into your lungs. Mist encircled you like birds, casting a unrealistic, dizzy sheen over the forest. 

"I don't know what you've heard," Tyler slowly said when your hesitant silence answered his question, "But I'll never give you a reason to be scared of me. I promise." Lost in thought, he breathed a drag from his cigarette, his troubled gaze drifting above your head. 

Did coldblooded liars frown with torn regret like that? 

"Tell me what you're thinking," you demanded, wishing your fingers could burrow under his loping brown curls and probe his mind. 

"I guess I'm scared, too," he quietly admitted to nobody but the mist and you. 

"Of what?"

"I'm building a reputation for myself that I'm not sure I want." Tyler firmly stubbed out his cigarette, crumpling it like a ruined orange crayon. "Does that make sense?"

"Yeah," you thoughtfully said, "It does." 

Neither of you spoke after that. You and Tyler treaded out of the electric fear of the blurry white woods, together in companionable silence. 

In the dreary, miserable evening, the Weathervane glowed with warm lights and chatter. Customers flocked inside out from the soggy cold. Despite the foreign complexity of Tyler's coffee world, today he parted the mysterious blanket of stars and allowed you in. Trusting your ability, he would pass steaming, cozy drinks into your hands to deliver to the smiling customers. 

Around 6pm, a rowdy group rolled into the Weathervane, carelessly flinging open the door with the inflated swagger of teenage boys. Mean glints poisoned their beady, wandering eyes. Instant dislike hung thick in your throat. 

Tyler's friends. 

"Talk to her," one boy whispered loudly, his snakelike, dark eyes darting over you hungrily. 

"Hey, ponytail girl!" A chunky, pug-faced boy rudely called, beckoning you closer with a crooked finger. His unpleasant features contorted in a smug sneer. "We know all about you. Somebody find Tyler. This ought to be good."