Moonlit x Madness

Chapter 3

The air in the clubroom had thinned since Xavier left, like he’d taken the gravity of the room with him. Layla found herself staring at the door long after it had clicked shut, his words looping in her mind, scratching at the walls of her thoughts.

"You're better off not knowing."

Why did that feel like both a warning and a plea?

"Earth to Layla," Xulie’s playful voice pulled her back. She waved a hand in front of Layla’s face, grinning as if she’d caught her daydreaming about something scandalous. "Still thinking about our mysterious guest?"

Layla straightened, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear to hide her flustered expression. "N-No," she stammered. "I was just… I mean, it’s not like that."

Xulie gave a knowing hum, tapping her chin with mock thoughtfulness. "Sure, sure. But you were staring at the door like you were waiting for your prince to come back."

Layla let out an awkward laugh, exactly as forced as she felt. "Stop it. You're making it weird."

But Xulie’s teasing glint softened, her next words carrying a curious warmth. "You know, he never talks to anyone like that. Almost like he let his guard down with you—just a little."

Layla’s breath caught, her gaze falling to her hands as they twisted in her lap. "Almost." That single word clung to her chest like dew on cold glass.

Before she could reply, the door creaked open again. Her heart skipped—but it wasn’t Xavier.

Mr. Daisuke, the club advisor, stepped in with a mild frown, carrying a stack of papers that looked dangerously close to toppling. "Ah, you're both still here," he said, shuffling over to the desk. "The club fair is next week. We need to prepare our display."

The interruption was welcome, if only to distract Layla from the whirlwind in her head. She pushed aside her lingering thoughts and rose from her seat. "Right. The club fair."

Xulie nudged her with a sly whisper as they moved to help. "Maybe he'll come by the fair. Watch from the shadows like a brooding hero."

Layla shot her a look. "You’re hopeless."

But beneath her teasing, Xulie’s eyes held a glimmer of something thoughtful, like she saw pieces of a puzzle Layla hadn’t yet noticed.

—

Later that evening, as dusk bled into night, Layla found herself alone in the library. The others had gone home, and silence stretched between the shelves like a living thing. She traced her fingers along the spines of forgotten books, her mind still unwilling to let go of Xavier’s sharp gaze.

Her thoughts were a tangled mess.

Why did she care so much?

They’d barely spoken, yet every word from him felt carved in stone, heavy and unshakable.

A chill crept along her spine. For a heartbeat, she thought she sensed someone watching her from between the stacks—but when she turned, there was nothing.

"Get a grip, Layla," she whispered to herself, hugging the book tighter to her chest.

Yet, as she stepped toward the exit, a single folded note slipped from between the pages. She frowned, bending to pick it up.

Her name was scrawled on the front in sharp, deliberate handwriting.

Layla.

The library's dim light flickered as she unfolded it, heart pounding against her ribs.

"Stay away from me.

For your sake."

Her breath hitched. No signature.

But she didn’t need one.

Her pulse quickened as her eyes darted to the shadows again. Nothing. Only the whisper of the wind against the old windows.

Yet something inside her stirred — not fear, but something perilously close to intrigue.

She should feel scared.

She should heed the warning.

But she knew, deep down, she wouldn’t.

Not when the moonlit madness between them had only just begun.