Midnight Hauntings

Luna dreamt of him again, the man in the fog. But this time, it was different. He was no longer just a distant shadow, no longer just a blur lost in the mist. He was closer. Too close.

She could almost make out his features now, the faint lines of his face emerging from the haze. His presence felt overwhelming, his figure no longer a ghostly silhouette but something nearly tangible. And then, his voice came. Over and over. Layered, distorted, stretching into the void.

The words echoed.. audible yet distorted, far yet near. They twisted and unraveled, overlapping in a way that made them impossible to separate. But despite the chaos, Luna could feel the weight behind them. A desperate plea. A promise. Something important.. something she wasn’t meant to forget.

"I'll remember!"

"You trust me, right?"

The voices stretched into the void, reverberating like a warped record playing fragments of a forgotten memory. The fog thickened around her, creeping in slow, deliberate waves. It wrapped around her legs, coiling like unseen hands, pulling her downward, deeper, into something unknown. It was suffocating, heavy, dragging her into the abyss.

She wanted to move. To run. To fight against the overwhelming stillness pressing in from all sides. But her body refused to listen. She was frozen in place, trapped within the eerie quiet of the dream.

The man stood before her, his face still blurred, his features just beyond recognition. But his presence was undeniable. Overwhelming. Familiar.

He was close now, closer than ever before. Close enough that she could feel the warmth of his breath. His hand reached out, fingers outstretched, trembling slightly as if he, too, was caught between hesitation and urgency.

And just as he was about to touch her.. just as his fingers nearly brushed against her skin.

Luna shot up from her bed, her breath coming in rapid, uneven gasps. Sweat clung to her skin, dampening her shirt. The lingering weight of the dream sat heavy on her chest. It took her a moment to register her surroundings, the faint glow of the streetlight filtering through the curtains, the quiet hum of the city beyond the window.

Her eyes flicked to the clock.

2:45 AM

She let out a frustrated groan, rubbing her temples. "Great… again."

Pushing herself off the bed, her legs wobbled slightly as she adjusted to being awake. The room felt eerily silent, almost as if the remnants of the nightmare were still lurking in the corners, hiding in the folds of her blankets, waiting for her to close her eyes again. She exhaled sharply, running a hand over her face as if she could wipe away the uneasy feeling clinging to her skin.

Shaking it off, she slid out of bed, the cool air raising goosebumps along her arms. The wooden floor was cold beneath her bare feet as she padded toward the kitchen, her footsteps light but deliberate. It was muscle memory at this point, moving through the darkness without hesitation, without turning on the lights.

She went through the motions without thinking. Mug. Kettle. Water. The low hum of the heating element filled the quiet, but it wasn’t enough to drown out the lingering echoes of the dream.

"I'll remember."

"You trust me, right?"

Her fingers tensed around the handle of the kettle. The words were still too clear in her mind, like an afterimage burned into her thoughts. She forced herself to focus on the task in front of her, watching the steam curl into the air as she steeped the tea. The scent of lavender filled the kitchen, familiar and warm, though it never really helped. It was just part of the routine now, a mindless ritual to keep herself occupied, to give her hands something to do, to fill the unbearable quiet.

With her tea in hand, she moved to the living room and sank onto the couch, pulling her legs up beneath her. The television flickered to life with a quiet click. The volume was low, just barely above a whisper, but in the stillness of the apartment, even that felt too loud. The glow illuminated the room in soft flashes, shadows shifting along the walls.

She took a slow sip, staring at the screen without really watching. Some late-night advertisements were playing, the host’s voice overly enthusiastic, too cheerful for the hour. It was background noise, nothing more. Something to distract from the unease still curling in her chest.

A groan from behind her shattered the quiet.

Luna jolted, her heart leaping to her throat as she nearly spilled her tea. The hot liquid sloshed dangerously close to the rim, and she had to steady her grip before it tipped over completely. Whipping around, she shot a glare toward the source of the noise.

"What the heck, dude! You scared me!"

A messy-haired Luca slumped further into the couch cushions, blinking hazily at her like a man who had just crawled out of a grave. His dark curls stuck up in every direction, and his face was lined with faint pillow creases. He looked completely out of it, barely keeping his eyes open.

"Oh…" He yawned, voice sluggish with sleep. "My bad."

Luna placed a hand over her chest, exhaling sharply to calm her racing heart. "Were you seriously sleeping there the whole time? I thought you already left!"

Luca ruffled his already disheveled hair, looking just as confused as she felt. He glanced around as if trying to piece together how he even got there. "Yeah, I guess so. I crashed here after we got back."

Luna groaned, dragging a hand down her face. "You need to stop doing that, you're driving me crazy."

"And you need to stop waking up at ungodly hours," he shot back, voice still heavy with sleep, "What even time is it?"

Luca sat up properly, stretching his arms over his head before slouching forward, his gaze settling on her tea. His expression sobered just a little. "So… nightmare again?"

Luna hummed in response, not trusting her voice for a moment. She took a slow sip of her drink, letting the warmth settle her nerves.

Luca exhaled through his nose, shifting to face her more fully. "What was it this time?"

"Same guy. Same words," she murmured, her fingers tightening around the mug. "But closer. I could almost see him."

Luca frowned, his brows pulling together. "So.. Nothing new?"

"Yeah." Luna swallowed, her gaze dropping to the swirling liquid in her cup. "It was weird, though. It felt… real. More than usual. Like if I didn’t wake up, something was actually going to happen."

Luca’s expression turned thoughtful. He rubbed a hand over his face, blinking the last remnants of sleep away. "You ever think it means something?"

Luna let out a breath, her thoughts drifting back to the dream. To the suffocating fog. The voice. The outstretched hand. The feeling that if she had lingered just a moment longer, something that cannot be reversed would have happened.

"I don’t know," she admitted, shaking her head. "Maybe. Probably. But it’s not like I have an instruction manual on cryptic nightmare messages."

Luca hesitated, his fingers drumming lightly against his knee before he spoke. "What if you tried something different?" He glanced at her. "Instead of just writing it down, maybe… I don’t know, talk to someone who actually knows about dreams? Like a professional?"

Luna scoffed lightly. "A therapist? And say what? Hey, I keep dreaming about some foggy mystery man saying the same thing over and over again? Yeah, that won’t make me sound crazy at all."

Luca gave a half-smirk. "You already sound insane most of the time."

She kicked his leg lightly, and he let out a dramatic grunt of protest. "Shut up," she muttered, but there was no real bite to her words.

Luca chuckled, leaning back into the couch. "I just mean, maybe there’s a reason it keeps happening. Maybe someone out there could help make sense of it."

Luna mulled over his words. Aria had already suggested writing the dreams down, and she’d tried, briefly. But staring at her own scrawled notes the next morning never made things clearer. It just made them feel heavier, like putting them into words gave them more power.

But talking to someone else about it? That was uncomfortable. The idea made her uneasy, but so did the nightmares.

"I’ll think about it," she said finally, though she wasn’t sure if she meant it.

Luca studied her for a moment, something unreadable in his gaze. Then, after a pause, he yawned and stretched again, the movement slow and lazy. "Well, since I’m already up, might as well stay up."

Luna raised a brow. "You do realize it’s almost three in the morning, right?"

Luca grinned. "Perfect time for late-night pancakes."

Luna snorted, shaking her head. "You’re ridiculous."

"And yet, you’re still friends with me," Luca pointed out, smirking. "So what does that say about you?"

She rolled her eyes. "Fine. But you’re cooking."

"Deal."

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