[INDENT][COLOR=SLATEGRAY][CENTER][sup][sup][h1][center][img] https://media.architecturaldigest.com/photos/672d4a5b823a46b3d7f713e1/16:9/w_2560%2Cc_limit/GettyImages-1867432941.jpg[/img][/center][b][center][color=black] S T .  D Y M P H N A ‘ S  H O M E[/color]
[color=lightgray]S T .  D Y M P H N A ‘ S  H O M E[/color][/center]
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[sup][sup][h1][b][center][color=black] F O R  W A Y W A R D  Y O U T H S[/color]
[color=lightgray]F O R  W A Y W A R D  Y O U T H S[/color][/center]
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[color=silver][sup][i]Joanie[/i][/sup][/color][/CENTER][/color][/INDENT]
The diner was quiet in the late morning lull. A ceiling fan hummed lazily overhead, stirring the warm air that smelled of coffee grounds and old syrup. Joanie slid into the booth first, the vinyl cool against her legs. Caleb sat opposite her, hood up, shoulders hunched, with his hands clasped together on the table as if he were bracing for something. The windows were fogged from the kitchen heat, blurring the view of the strip outside.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

That wasn’t new though. They had walked the few blocks to the strip in silence, passing shuttered shops and the old laundrette with the flickering sign. The diner sat on the corner exactly where it always had, the same chipped paint and fogged windows they used to press their faces against as kids. 

“We haven’t been here since our first date.” He said, finally breaking.

Joanie let out a short, humourless scoff. “[color=plum]It wasn’t a date.[/color]”

Caleb looked up, confused. “What do you mean it wasn’t a date.”

“[color=plum]Caleb,[/color]” she said, rubbing her forehead. “[color=plum]You dragged me here because you were hiding out after you broke the common room window. You bought me a milkshake because you felt guilty. That is not a date.[/color]”

He opened his mouth, then closed it again. “I thought it counted.”

“[color=plum]It didn’t.[/color]”

He looked down at his hands, picking at a loose thread on his sleeve. “I liked being here with you.”

Joanie looked at him then, and for a moment she saw the boy she used to know. She remembered how easy it had been to like Caleb, how warm he could be when he let his guard down. How he used to save the last fry for her without saying anything. There had been a time when she thought she could read every thought on his face. Remembering it now only made the distance between them feel sharper.

She looked away, her chest tightening. “[color=plum]Then you shouldn’t have disappeared.[/color]”

He flinched. “I know.”

“[color=plum]Do you?[/color]” Her voice was quiet but sharp. “[color=plum]Because you left without a word. You didn’t call. You didn’t text. You didn’t even tell me you were alive.[/color]”

Those days had been torture. It hasn’t helped that it had been the day The Mountain had stopped a raging gray after they had blown up a subway station. All she could think about before they released the names of the dead was that he was on that list.

Caleb swallowed hard. “I couldn’t.”

“[color=plum]That isn’t an answer.[/color]”

He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “Joanie, I can’t tell you everything. I want to, but I can’t. It is for your own good.”

She leaned back, eyes narrowing. “[color=plum]Do not say that to me. Do not sit here and act like you are protecting me by keeping me in the dark.[/color]”

Was he serious right now? Given everything she’d seen last night she was owed some answers. 

“I am,” he insisted. “You do not understand how dangerous these people are.”

“[color=plum]Then explain it.[/color]”

“I can’t.”

She stared at him, jaw tight. A thousand questions raced through her mind, before finally settling on on one she deemed the most important. 

“[color=plum]Have you killed anyone?[/color]” She asked, bluntly.

She has to know. She had to know whether this was still the boy she’d grown up with. 

His eyes snapped up. “No.”

“[color=plum]Have you tried?[/color]”

“No,” he said quickly. “I try not to. I do not want to be that person.”

Relief washed over her. She believed him. She hated that she believed him.

Their conversation was briefly interrupted as the waitress brought over two mugs of coffee, playing them on the table between them. They thanked her, drifting back into silence as they blew into the hot liquid and took their first sips.

She was more grateful for the small burn than she realised. She took a moment to settle, taking a small gulp. 

She took a breath as her mind went to her next important question. “[color=plum]Who was that man. The one watching me.[/color]”

Caleb hesitated. His fingers curled into fists. “You do not want to know.”

And let out a small huff in frustration. What was the point in him rocking up to chat if he didn’t want to talk about anything? 

Their coffee mugs shook for a moment, rattling against each other.

“[color=plum]I asked you.[/color]”

He exhaled slowly. “Okay… Fine. People call him the Icelander.”

The name settled over the table like frost.

The Icelander. What kind of pretentious name was that?

“[color=plum]What, is he really Olaf the snowman or something?[/color]” She laughed. It died quickly though when she clocked the look on his face.

“Nah, he’s apparently from Reykjavík”. Caleb said, voice low. “They say… they say he’s one of the first Grays.”

Joanie blinked. History hadn’t been her strongest subject, but surely that wasn’t possible? He’d have to be over 100. 

“No one knows for sure.” He continued. “There are stories about him. Urban legends. Some say he does not age. Some say he can freeze a person from the inside out. Some say he collects people. Keeps them. Uses them.”

Joanie felt her stomach twist. “[color=plum]And how exactly do you know him?[/color]”

Caleb paused for a moment, as if debating if he’d already said too much. She had a feeling she knew what he was about to say.

“He owns Harborlight.” He confirmed. “He owns me.”

Joanie felt herself grow cold. She felt just like she did last night when she had first laid eyes on the mysterious man.

So this was why he hadn’t reached out? He was someone’s slave? The thought horrified her.

Then a realisation came to the front of her mind.

“[color=plum]He asked you about me, didn’t he.[/color]” 

Caleb nodded.

“[color=plum]What did you tell him?[/color]”

“Nothing,” Caleb said quickly. “Just that we used to date. I told him it wasn’t serious.”

Joanie stared at him, disbelief and hurt rising in her chest. “[color=plum]Not serious.[/color]”

“I was trying to protect you.”

“[color=plum]By pretending I didn’t matter.[/color]”

“That is not what I meant. I was trying to keep you safe.”

The booth trembled beneath them. A soft vibration at first, then a sharper jolt that rattled the salt shaker. Caleb’s eyes widened. Joanie clenched her jaw, forcing herself to breathe.

The waitress behind the counter looked up from wiping a mug. “Sweetheart, you alright over there.”

Joanie managed a weak smile. “[color=plum]Sorry. Just… dropped something.[/color]”

She nodded, unconvinced, but went back to her work.

Caleb leaned forward, voice barely above a whisper. “You have to be careful. He noticed you. That isn’t good. He doesn’t notice people unless he wants something.”

Joanie swallowed. “[color=plum]What does he want?[/color]”

He paused for a moment before answering.

“I don’t know,” Caleb admitted.

The booth trembled again, softer this time. Joanie pressed her palms flat against the vinyl, grounding herself.

Caleb watched her with something like fear. 

“Please, Joanie. Just listen to me. Be careful. Stay away from Harborlight. Stay away from the strip. Stay away from anyone who looks at you twice.”

She looked at him, tired and furious and scared. 

“[color=plum]You left me for this.[/color]”