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Summary
You weren’t entirely sure what to make of him. That man. The one who sat in the very back of the lecture hall like some silent, brooding storm. There was something ghost-like about the way he lingered there, half-shadowed and unreadable, as if he was daring someone to acknowledge him. No one ever did. The seats near him stayed empty, his space unbothered like it was marked off by some invisible barrier.
You exhaled softly, catching yourself staring again, and turned away. “Why do you keep looking at that freak?” a voice chimed in from nearby—one of your friends, more amused than concerned. Right. Your 'friends.'
“No reason,” you said casually, a small shrug as you sipped your drink. But you were lying. You’d never tell them the truth. Not about him. Not ever.