Lucid

CHAPTER 8 - NOT ALL IS WHAT IT SEEMS

It's almost impossible to distinguish between illusion and delusion, a dream and reality. The lines between them blur so effortlessly that you can't help but lose yourself, slipping from one to the other until you're no longer sure which is which. Spending too much time in a world governed by rules that seem to mock reason can unravel even the most steadfast mind, leaving it frayed at the edges.

But the truth, no matter how distorted, always lingers, hidden just behind the veil. There is always a wall, albeit thin and fragile, between what's real and what's imagined. Between what's meant to be and what's been twisted out of shape.

And yet, no matter how hard you look, no matter how desperately you search for meaning or clarity, one thing becomes undeniable:

Not all is as it seems.

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"Hey."

For the first time, I woke to warmth, not the usual blinding light. My body felt still, not tense, not shaking. I wasn't scared. Instead, I was wrapped in a comfort that made everything feel... calm. A faint light filtered in, soft and reassuring. "Breakfast is ready. I'll wait for you downstairs."

I heard Will leave, the door clicking shut behind him. My mind raced, trying to piece together what happened last night. It was all a haze, just fragments of Netflix shows, the games we played, and Will falling asleep on the couch. Nothing that made sense in the grand scheme of things.

I slid out of bed, a wave of relief washing over me. I wasn't some zombie anymore. I wasn't trapped in a nightmare. I was Ethan.

I made my way downstairs, the scent of bacon, eggs, and toast filling the air. "I didn't know you could cook."

"I can do anything," he teased, "Thanks to Mrs. Rose."

I chuckled. "Rose?"

"Yeah, Rose. Probably the weirdest last name, right?"

"Nah," I said with a grin, "You haven't heard Eden yet."

Will looked up, genuinely shocked. "Eden? Okay, yeah. That's pretty bad."

I took a seat at the counter, and Will slid my plate closer. He filled a glass with apple juice and set it beside me. He took his own seat, across from me. The bacon was unreal—crispy but tender, full of flavour, as if it was made in another world.

"Damn, this is seriously good."

"Why, thanks. Learned from the best," Will said, his tone quieter now. As we ate in silence, I could see something was on his mind. Something was bothering him, and I think I knew exactly what it was.

"You want to know why?" I finally asked.

Will paused, looking up at me. His eyes—those familiar green eyes—told me I was right. "What happened yesterday? Or, more importantly, what's going on with you?"

I sighed, rubbing my forehead. "It's a long story. And honestly, it's way too weird to even explain."

"Ethan," he said, setting down his fork. "Look where you are. Look who you're with. You wouldn't be here if I didn't care. If I didn't want to help you." It felt odd, hearing him say that. We'd only met once before, at The Black Oak.

"But why, though? Why do you care?"

"Because I do," he said simply. "I just do."

I stared at my plate, at the bacon and eggs, the condensation on the glass. I felt an overwhelming heaviness settle in my chest. My hands went up to my face, trying to hold myself together.