Chapter 3.5: I Hear Everything
1292 Words
Anthony chuckled. “Are we doing breathing exercises now?”
“No jokes,” Lucien said, voice still soft. "I mean it. Sit. Straight. Half-meditation.”
Christy looked hesitant. “Half-meditation?”
“Not full. Don’t disappear into your head. Keep one foot in the room. Listen — that’s the trick.”
They followed, partly amused, partly curious.
Lucien leaned forward.
“When the world’s loud, most people try to shut it out. I don’t. I let it wash over me… and then I tune in. Like a radio dial.”
He tapped the edge of the table with his finger.
“Pick a voice. Any voice. Focus. Let the others blur. Pick a tone, a word, a rhythm — anything. Just follow it. You’ll be surprised
how careless people are with secrets.”
Anthony snorted. “You seriously hear s**t just sitting in food joints?”
“More than you’d believe,” Lucien replied, already standing. “Now shut up and try. I’ll order us some fries.”
He walked toward the counter, leaving them behind, eyes closed, ears perked.
The soundscape was endless.
Metal pans clanging.
Two old men arguing about cricket.
A scooter engine stalling outside.
The sharp slap of oil hitting heat.
And then—
A girl’s voice.
Soft. Hushed. But anxious.
“No, I told him not to text anymore. He said he’d stop… but then he followed me again after college.”
Christy opened her eyes slowly, looking around.
Anthony blinked too, a little shaken. “Wait, I—did you hear—?”
Lucien returned with a basket of fries and a small smirk.
“You heard it, didn’t you?”
Neither answered.
He placed the fries in the center of the table.
“The world doesn’t whisper. It yells.
Most people just don’t know how to listen.”
He dipped a fry in ketchup. Took a bite.
“Now imagine what you can do with that.”
The joint’s warm lights flickered overhead, bathing the trio in a cozy amber hue as they settled around their usual corner table — wobbly-legged, but familiar. A small fan buzzed in the ceiling, spinning half-heartedly as the scent of fried garlic and chili drifted through the air.
Lucien leaned back with a lazy smirk, and said,
“Alright, peasants — what’ll it be? ”
Anthony looked up from the menu board, squinting. “Peasants?”
Lucien grinned. “Yeah. I’m your benevolent monarch for the evening. You get one wish each. Choose wisely.”
Christy groaned. “Please don’t go full fantasy roleplay at the food joint. I already have secondhand embarrassment.”
“Ah, but embarrassment is temporary,” Lucien said, placing a chip on her tray like it was a royal decree. “Glory is eternal.”
Anthony shook his head. “Alright, fine. I’ll take the chili chicken roll and a lemon soda. And don’t add it to your mental debt tracker. I know how you work.”
Lucien placed a hand over his heart in mock offense. “I’m wounded. Me? Hold debt over my dear friends?”
“Yes,” Christy and Anthony said in unison.
Christy tapped her chin dramatically. “Hmm. I want the paneer sandwich and a mango juice. Oh, and fries. Lots of fries. That counts as one wish, right?”
“Only because I like your face,” Lucien said, standing up with the swagger of a man heading to war. “Be right back, mortals.”
He strolled toward the counter, pausing halfway with a half-turn.
“Also, just to make it official—next time’s on Anthony. I’ve declared it.”
Anthony called after him, “This is how communism starts!”
Christy laughed.
Lucien chuckled under his breath as he reached the counter, leaning one elbow casually across the chipped glass and tapping his fingers rhythmically. The vendor barely looked up; they knew him by now.
He was halfway through listing the order when he paused.
Mid-word. Mid-thought.
A subtle tension tightened his jaw.
He turned his head slightly to the side, voice low.
“Ahhh... what a day.”
Back at the table, Christy noticed the shift first.
“You okay?”
Lucien’s eyes didn’t move. Just a slow, knowing smile crawling onto his face.
“To your side, you two. Left. No sudden moves. Just glance.”
Anthony looked, subtly. Christy followed.
There she was.
Rae Williams.
Leaning against the cooler like it owed her rent, dressed like every strand of her hair had been styled under contract. Her lips moved fast — talking to her group — phone in hand, recording a story no one asked for.
Lucien exhaled softly.
“Look at that. Lady Proud b***h herself, gracing my humble kingdom.”
Anthony turned back. “You’re seriously still calling her that?”
“Only in my internal monologue,” Lucien replied. “Publicly? She’s Rae the Radiant. Rae the Ravager of Vibes.”
Christy snorted. “Don’t start, Lucien. We’re having a good day.”
“Exactly,” Lucien murmured, placing their full order without missing a beat. “And what better way to end a good day than by watching a fraud strut in like she’s still relevant?”
He returned with their food, sliding each item into place with care, like cards being dealt in a high-stakes game.
Anthony leaned forward. “She’s just buying soda, man. Ignore her.”
“Oh, I’m not watching her,” Lucien said, eyes still burning into Rae’s figure across the room. “I’m watching her watch me."
Christy raised an eyebrow. “You think she cares that much?”
Lucien took a bite of his roll.
“I know she does.”
The way he said it — not loud, not arrogant — just certain.
Like he’d read the script before the scene ever played out.
Christy shook her head and smiled, trying to dismiss it, but that flicker in Lucien’s expression lingered.
A soft, humming kind of intensity.
Like static before a storm.
They ate like old times.
Fries passed between fingers, drinks swapped when someone picked the wrong flavor, jokes thrown across the table like lazy darts.
Christy leaned her head back and laughed so hard at something Anthony said that she almost fell off her chair. Even Lucien let out an honest chuckle — not the sharp, rehearsed kind he used at school — a real one.
For a few moments, it felt like life was simple again.
Greasy food. Street sounds. Friends.
No ghosts. No burdens.
Lucien tilted his head back, eyes half-lidded as he listened to the night hum.
“Almost feels like peace,” he murmured.
Christy smiled. “Almost.”
Anthony nodded. “Could get used to this.”
Lucien turned toward the counter, stretching slightly.
And that’s when he saw her moving.
Rae.
Strutting toward them.
Phone tucked away.
Smile twisted just enough to know — this wasn’t casual.
She walked with that same bratty bounce in her step.
The one that used to make Lucien clench his fists back then.
“Well, well,” she said, voice sugar-laced and venom-tipped. “Look who finally crawled out of his hole.”
Christy stiffened.
Anthony’s fingers froze on his cup.
Lucien didn’t move.
He just looked up —
calm, cool, gaze sharpened to razor clarity.
Rae stopped by the table, hands on hips.
“Didn’t think you had the guts to show your face again, mutey.”
Her eyes glinted.
“Still broken inside? Or are we pretending to be human now?”
Lucien didn’t answer.
He just blinked once.
Slowly.
And then—
He smiled.
But not like before.
Not like someone happy.
Like someone waiting.
- Writer
