THE SILENCE BETWEEN
836 Words
📖 Chapter 5 – The Silence Between
Killian didn’t go back to the café.
Didn’t go anywhere, actually.
By the time he got back to the apartment, the silence was waiting for him.
Not the normal kind.
Not the quiet you could ignore.
This one felt… present.
He shut the door behind him slowly.
The click echoed longer than it should have.
“Alright,” he muttered under his breath. “Enough.”
He tossed his phone onto the couch.
Ran both hands over his face.
“I’m just tired.”
The words sounded rehearsed.
Like he’d said them too many times already.
He walked toward the kitchen.
Poured water.
Took a sip.
The glass trembled slightly in his hand.
He stopped.
Looked down at it.
“…Stop.”
His grip tightened.
The shaking didn’t.
He set the glass down carefully.
Too carefully.
The apartment was quiet again.
Too quiet.
Killian turned slowly.
Scanning the room.
Everything was where it should be.
Clean.
Still.
Perfect.
Murray’s world.
Not his.
He exhaled.
“Get a grip,” he whispered.
His phone buzzed.
Killian froze.
It was faint this time.
Almost… distant.
He didn’t move.
Didn’t reach for it.
Buzz.
Again.
Slower now.
Like it was waiting for him.
“…No,” he said under his breath.
Buzz.
His jaw tightened.
“Stop.”
Buzz.
Louder.
Closer.
Killian grabbed the phone suddenly.
The screen lit up.
Nothing.
No notification.
No message.
No missed call.
Just his reflection staring back at him.
Distorted.
For a split second—
his reflection smiled.
Killian dropped the phone.
It hit the floor with a sharp crack.
Silence.
Heavy.
Absolute.
He stared at it.
Didn’t move.
Didn’t breathe.
“…No,” he whispered.
The screen flickered once.
Then went completely black.
Killian stepped back.
Something was wrong.
Not just off.
Wrong.
And for the first time—
he didn’t try to explain it.
“Rough day?”
Killian turned sharply.
Murray stood by the entrance.
Calm.
Composed.
Watching.
Killian’s chest rose and fell unevenly.
“…How long have you been standing there?”
Murray glanced briefly around the room.
Then back at him.
“Long enough.”
Silence.
Killian pointed toward the phone on the floor.
“You saw that, right?”
Murray followed his gaze.
Looked at the phone.
Then back at Killian.
“Saw what?”
Killian stared at him.
Searching his face.
Nothing.
No confusion.
No concern.
No reaction.
Just calm.
“That,” Killian said, stepping closer. “My phone—something just—”
He stopped.
Because the phone screen lit up again.
Normal.
Unbroken.
No crack.
No distortion.
Just a clean lock screen.
Killian’s voice faded.
“…You dropped it,” Murray said simply.
Killian shook his head.
“No. It—it changed. I saw it—”
“Killian.”
Murray’s tone cut through him.
Not loud.
Not harsh.
Controlled.
“You’re pushing yourself too hard.”
Killian let out a sharp breath.
“You think I’m imagining this?”
Murray didn’t answer immediately.
Then—
“I think,” he said slowly, “you’re under pressure.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
“It can feel like it is.”
Killian stared at him.
Something about the way Murray spoke—
felt rehearsed.
Measured.
Like he’d said this before.
To someone else.
“…You don’t believe me,” Killian said quietly.
Murray held his gaze.
“I believe,” he replied, “that you need rest.”
Killian let out a hollow laugh.
“Yeah,” he said. “That’s what everyone keeps saying.”
Murray didn’t react.
And that—
that was the problem.
Killian stepped back.
Running a hand through his hair.
“This isn’t normal,” he said. “You know that, right?”
Murray tilted his head slightly.
“What isn’t?”
Killian opened his mouth—
then stopped.
Because suddenly—
he wasn’t sure how to explain it.
And that scared him more than anything else.
Later that evening—
Gibson’s name flashed briefly across Killian’s mind.
Uninvited.
Uncomfortable.
Killian grabbed his phone again.
Hesitated.
Then dialed.
It rang.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Then—
Click.
“Hello?”
Gibson’s voice.
Normal.
Steady.
Killian exhaled.
“…Yeah. It’s me.”
A pause.
“You okay?” Gibson asked.
Killian hesitated.
The question felt heavier now.
More complicated.
“…Yeah,” he said.
Silence.
Then Gibson spoke again.
“You sure?”
Killian closed his eyes briefly.
“I just—” he started.
Then stopped.
Because something felt wrong.
The line.
Too clear.
Too still.
“…Gibson?”
No response.
“…Gibson?”
Then—
a faint sound.
Not his voice.
Something else.
Static.
Low.
Almost like—
breathing.
Killian’s grip tightened around the phone.
“Gibson, where are you?”
Silence.
Then—
the line went dead.
Killian slowly lowered the phone.
The room felt colder now.
Smaller.
Closing in.
And somewhere deep inside—
something told him this wasn’t just in his head anymore. 👀
- Writer
