METANOIA

2. Chloe/luis

Luis’s hand trembled as he raised it, power flickering dangerously in his veins. Chloe’s breath hitched, her throat tightening under his grasp.

“Y-you think I’m a joke, don’t you?” he hissed, eyes burning with something darker than anger.

Chloe’s nails dug into his arm, her voice breaking. “P-please, Luis… let me go.”

For a heartbeat, silence wrapped around them like chains. His grip faltered. Rage cracked into hesitation, then into despair. Slowly, he released her. Chloe fell back, clutching her throat, gasping for air.

Luis didn’t stay to watch her tears. Without a word, he turned and disappeared into the shadows.

“God…” Chloe whispered, her voice trembling. “How could he be so cruel…?” She pressed her hand against her chest as realization struck her—he was gone.

---

Chloe’s POV

This world isn’t a place where devils roam free. You can’t just hurt people because you feel broken inside, Luis. You can’t.

Her fists clenched. I’ll find him. No matter what it takes—I’ll bring him back.

---

Author’s POV

Luis walked down the dim streets, head low, the night pressing heavy against his thoughts. To him, the city felt endless, faceless. He was nothing here. Nothing to anyone.

But memories refused to leave him

.Flashback

The afternoon sun had been warm, spilling gold across the park. Luis remembered sitting on the grass with Ian, their backs pressed against an old oak tree. Ian had a soda can in his hand, tossing it lightly from palm to palm, while Luis just stared at the sky.

“You’re quiet today,” Ian said, glancing at him.

Luis shrugged. “You wouldn’t get it.”

“Try me.”

For a moment, Luis wanted to stay silent, to lock away everything like he always did. But something about Ian—his steady eyes, his refusal to treat Luis like a monster—broke him down. The memory folded on itself — then snapped. Luis shook his head like a dog shaking off rain and the laughter from the park dissolved into the roar of traffic.

“Hey — don’t judge me on that!” a voice in his head argued, but it sounded small in the open night. People on the sidewalk had stopped to stare; even Noah and the others in the distance had gone still, their faces unreadable. For a second, Luis felt like the entire street was watching a slow-motion collapse.

He swallowed. “I miss you guys,” he admitted to no one, his voice raw in the empty middle of the road.

A man near a rusted motorcycle spat, “Hey, you bastard—get off the street. Do you wanna die today?”

Luis didn’t answer. He only felt the weight of the words sink into him like cold stones.

An unexpected hand closed around his. It was fragile and warm at the same time — an old woman’s fingers, knotted with age. She steered him toward the curb as if guiding a frightened child. “Careful, dear,” she said in a voice as plain and steady as the river. “You shouldn’t be standing there.”

He blinked, uncomprehending. The man swore and revved his engine and loungers muttered. The old woman’s eyes scanned him briefly, then softened as if reading a line only she could see. Without a word, she patted his palm and turned away, disappearing into the crowd as though she’d never been there.

Luis watched her go, feeling absurdly grateful for the small, mindless kindness. He shouldered the silence like bad weather and started walking again.

Then a taxi door slammed — Chloe. She stepped out with the breath of the cab still clinging to her clothes, hair tousled, lungs working like she’d run. Her face was hard with anger and worry both.

“Hey!” she snapped before she could think. “You rude—ass, listen to me.” She took a breath, trying on a sterner voice. “First of all, I will help you — okay? Second, don’t walk like that. It’s not safe. People will do worse than shout.”

People around them shifted; someone laughed nervously, another pointed their phone. Chloe reached out and gripped his arm with a firmness that left no room for argument. Her palm was steady, warm — a tether.

Luis looked at her like he might break. “Why—” he began, but Chloe cut him off with a look that was all immediate, sharp compassion.

“Because someone has to,” she said. “Because you’re pathetic when you drown in yourself, and because I—” She stopped, then let out a short, breathy laugh that didn’t touch her eyes. “—can’t stand watching you do this. Not again.”

He wanted to tell her he didn’t deserve the help. He wanted to tell her he was dangerous, that she would be safer without him. Instead, he let her pull him to the sidewalk. The city hummed and anonymous faces blurred. For once, the world felt less like an accusing crowd and more like a weather system he might be able to survive.

As they walked away, Chloe glanced back once toward the old woman who had gone on her way. The old woman was already far down the street, small in the glow of the lamplight. Chloe’s jaw softened for a moment, and Luis thought maybe — perhaps — the world still had a few good people left in it.

“Come on,” she said quietly. “Let’s find somewhere to sit. Tell me what happened.”

Luis let out a sound that might have been a laugh or a sob. “I don’t know how to stop,” he whispered.

Chloe didn’t let go. “Then we’ll learn,” she said. “Together.”

“It’s like… every time I use my power, people only see the danger. They don’t see me.” His voice cracked. “I don’t even know who I am anymore. Am I the power… or the person carrying it?”

Ian leaned back, letting out a low whistle. “Man, you’re overthinking it.”

Luis frowned. “Easy for you to say.”

“No, listen.” Ian turned to him, voice firmer now. “You’re Luis. My best friend. Not a weapon, not some curse. Just… you. The guy who sucks at basketball but always beats me at chess. The guy who pretends to hate music but secretly hums along when he thinks no one’s listening.”

Luis blinked, caught off guard. “You noticed that?”

“Of course I did.” Ian smiled, nudging his shoulder. “You’re not invisible to the people who care. You’ll never be nothing to me.”

For the first time in weeks, Luis had laughed—a real, unguarded laugh.

That memory burned in him now like a wound. Because Ian was gone. That warmth was gone. All he had left were the shadows, the weight of his power, and the hollow ache of being misunderstood.

Back to Present

Luis’s steps slowed, his chest tightening. He stopped in the middle of the street, whispering into the night.

“Ian… I wish you were still here.”

The city didn’t answer. Only the wind carried his words away.

Inside Chloe’s Apartment

The apartment smelled faintly of ink and old paper. Stacks of notebooks and half-finished drafts littered the coffee table, while a laptop hummed quietly on the couch. The walls were bare except for one framed poster of a book cover with Chloe’s name on it — her first and only published piece.

Luis stepped inside slowly, his hand brushing against the chipped doorframe as though he wasn’t sure he was allowed to enter. “This… doesn’t feel like a palace,” he muttered.

Chloe smirked, tossing her bag onto a chair. “That’s because it isn’t. It’s survival. Rent cheap enough that I can afford time to write. Everything else is just—” she gestured at the clutter, “—bonus decoration.”

Luis walked further in, eyes scanning the room. The notebooks caught his attention. He picked one up and flipped through it. His brow furrowed. “You… write about people like me.”

Chloe froze halfway to the kitchen. “What do you mean?”

“Monsters. Cursed people. The broken ones who can’t fit into this world.” His voice was flat, but his grip on the notebook tightened. “Why?”

She walked back toward him, pulling the notebook gently from his hands. “Because those stories matter,” she said softly. “Because someone has to tell them right. And because maybe—just maybe—if I write them honestly enough, people will stop seeing monsters and start seeing the people underneath.”

Luis’s throat went dry. He looked at her like she had spoken a language only he could understand. “And what if there really is no person underneath?”

Chloe’s gaze softened, but her words were steady. “Then I’ll keep writing until I find one.”

Silence stretched between them. The hum of the fridge, the faint rush of cars outside, the sound of Chloe setting her notebook back down — all of it pressed around Luis, who suddenly felt the weight of his exhaustion.

She noticed. “You should rest,” she said, motioning toward the couch. “You look like you’ve been carrying the whole world on your back.”

Luis shook his head, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. “I don’t sleep well.”

“Then don’t sleep,” Chloe countered gently. “Just… stay here tonight. You don’t have to be alone. Not this time.”

Her voice was calm but firm, like an anchor against the storm he carried. For the first time in a long while, Luis didn’t argue. He sat down on the couch, sinking into the cushions as if gravity itself had loosened around him.

Chloe turned off the lamp, leaving only the glow of the streetlights spilling through the curtains. She watched him for a moment, then whispered, almost too quiet for him to hear:

“You’re not a monster, Luis. You’re just lost.”

He didn’t answer. But when Chloe went to her room and closed the door, he found himself holding onto those words like a lifeline.

Chloe stood in the middle of her tiny living room, hands on her hips like a drill sergeant. “Alright, fire-boy. You wanna get back to your world or not?”

Luis leaned lazily against the arm of her couch, smirk tugging at his lips. “Do I get a choice?”

“You do. But only if you follow my rules.”

“Rules?” He raised an eyebrow. “What is this, a kid’s sleepover? Are we doing truth or dare next?”

She shot him a sharp look. “Don’t test me, mister. Rule number one—” she pointed dramatically to the hallway door, “—don’t go into that room.”

Luis squinted at it, then tilted his head. “So that’s where you hide your secret boyfriend? Or the dead bodies?”

“Both,” Chloe deadpanned.

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Scary.”

“Rule number two,” she continued, holding up two fingers, “no powers in this house. None. Not for fun, not for drama, not for showing off.”

Luis’s eyes gleamed with mock innocence. “Even if I want to light some candles? Y’know, to set the mood?”

Chloe felt her cheeks warm. “Especially not that.” She coughed and held up three fingers. “Rule number three: show me some respect.”

Luis leaned down until their faces were almost level, his smirk infuriatingly soft. “Respect? For you? That sounds… difficult.”

Chloe’s jaw dropped. “Oh my god, you’re unbearable!” She turned, muttering to herself as she dug out the first-aid kit from a drawer. “I don’t know why I’m even helping you—”

Before she could finish, the kit zipped straight out of her hands and into his, a flicker of heat trailing in the air.

“Luis!” she yelped. “What did I just say about powers?”

He was already sitting on the couch, flipping the box open like it was a prize. “Relax. I’m helping. See? I can be useful.”

“You?” She stalked over, hands on her hips again. “Useful?”

“Come here,” he said quietly, ignoring her sarcasm.

She froze. “Wh—what?”

His gaze dropped to her hand, still red and tender from their fiery handshake earlier. “You’re hurt. Let me fix it.”

The sharp retort on her tongue vanished. Slowly, reluctantly, Chloe sat beside him. The couch dipped under their weight, forcing her closer than she’d intended.

Luis took her hand gently, surprising her with how careful he was. His fingers were warm, calloused but steady, as he dabbed ointment onto her palm.

Chloe bit her lip. “Wow. Didn’t know Mr. Doom-and-Gloom had a soft side.”

“Didn’t know Miss Bossy could sit still for five seconds,” he shot back.

She glared, but her cheeks betrayed her. “I am not blushing.”

“You’re definitely blushing,” Luis murmured, his smirk softening into something more dangerous — something tender.

Chloe yanked her gaze away, staring stubbornly at the crooked lamp in the corner. “You’re imagining things.”

Luis leaned closer, close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating off him. “Am I?” he whispered.

Her heart skipped. She could smell the faint smoke clinging to his clothes, mixed with something sharp and strangely comforting — him.

Then, of course, she ruined the moment. “Don’t get cocky. I’d still kill you if you burn down my place.”

Luis chuckled, finishing the bandage with a neat tug. “Guess that makes us even. You’re the only one who’s not afraid to threaten me.”

They sat in silence for a beat, their hands still brushing, neither of them moving away. Chloe’s mind screamed at her to pull back, but her body didn’t listen.

She coughed lightly. “So… respect rule goes both ways, you know.”

Luis tilted his head, his smile faint but real this time. “Guess I’ll try… for you.”

Something unspoken hung in the air, heavy but warm.

And then, right on cue, Chloe ruined it again — she leaned back too fast, smacked her elbow on the side table, and yelped.

Luis burst out laughing, the sound rare and unguarded. “Smooth,” he teased, eyes bright for the first time that night.

“Shut up!” she groaned, clutching her elbow, her face burning.

But even through the sting, Chloe smiled. Because for a moment, it didn’t feel like monsters and curses and broken worlds. It felt like two idiots trying to figure out how not to destroy each other.