Byron's Secret (Slenderman Romance)

Chapter 28. Students?

"Hey." I called out to Byron as I walked to our table, I sat on the opposite side of him and hummed, "So, about . . . Slenderman . . ." I trailed off, not knowing how to start. I'm not interested in acting like I believe in the silly myth, but it would be rude not to since that's the whole reason why we're here in the first place. I just want to know about the disappearances, not the myth. There's a huge difference. "People think Slenderman is the reason behind the disappearances, right?" I asked.

"Yes."

I waited for another word, but all I received was Byron's intense gaze, "Umm . . ." I muttered, smiling awkwardly, "Byron, we're gonna have to . . . you know, talk." I silently say, "Properly." I added.

He let out a breath, "There have been sightings, photographs, testimonies defining Slenderman."

"Yeah, but . . . that doesn't make him real." I sheepishly argued, "There's photoshop, then tattle-tales, then crazy people."

He crossed his arms and leaned back, "Then, do you think people in this town are making these stories up?"

His eyes turned serious, it made me rethink what I had said, "Well . . . no." I shrugged, "Maybe the reason they think it's Sendlor－Slendlo－Ugh." I twisted my tongue trying, "Maybe the reason they think it's Slendy is because they don't know who's the real person behind the disappearances and they needed an explanation. Hence, the myth?"

He looked taken aback after what I said, "Slen－" He stopped and slightly shook his head, "If you think he's a myth, how would you explain the disappearances?"

"Some jackasses behind the scenes." I bluntly replied, "I'm pretty sure that those two proxies are humans." I said in a louder, confident tone.

"What makes you so sure?" The ends of his lips curl into a smirk, as if mocking me. Though in all honesty, I can't bring myself to be pissed when he looks like that.

This is turning into a debate.

"Well . . ." I placed my elbows on the table as I thought, "They're not invincible. I told you a guy breaks into my house, the one with the white mask and that yellow jacket," I defined, "I panicked and threw a . . . lamp." My voice grew quieter, uncomfortable. "I wasn't sure if it hit him because I blacked out. But when I woke up, there's blood on the floor." I mentioned, "He's just a man."

Byron's face turned into a troubled one, he looked down on the table like he was realizing something.

"Like I said, they're not invincible." I repeated, "They're just people."

"Explain how you blacked out." He suddenly said.

"Uh, there was this noise in my head," I recalled, "It's like the noise from radios, you know, like shshshsh－pfft." I covered my laugh at my own failure of an imitation of the sound.

Byron closed a hand and covered his mouth as he coughed and glanced out the window. For a moment, I thought I saw a smile, but it was probably because of the angle of our position which made it look that way.

I shrugged, "M-Moving on," I said with a shaky voice as I try to ignore the urge to laugh, "There's the sound and then my vision started to blur out, I started seeing static . . . like the ones in TVs. After that, I don't remember, I probably fainted at that part."

Byron pulled the box in front of him and started rummaging inside, he pulled out an article which looked quite new. He skimmed through it before placing it before me, "What you said are the same things written there."

Reading through the article, he was right. Except, in the article, it's written that the person experienced vomiting of blood and bleeding of the nose. That's extreme.