Ciaran opened the small package to find another letter in the expected handwriting alongside a blindfold. Surprised, he took out the fabric and slid it through his fingers.
“No way. That’s silk?” Who would be lavishly enough to invest in silk for a simple blindfold? And more importantly, why did someone send it to him? At loss for words, he unfolded the accompanying letter to find some answers.

Dear Ciaran,

You look beautiful like the dawn you were named after when you blush. I really enjoyed seeing you come undone yesterday. So, it might be considered presumptuous to send another gift right away, expecting it will be to your liking, but I just couldn’t stop myself. 

I’d love to visit you in your bedroom once you reach the point where you trust me enough to do so. So, whenever your mother is gone on night shift again, just leave your window open for me and put the blindfold on. I’ll make sure not to miss your invitation. 

Of course, I understand that you still might be hesitant at this point. So please remember, I’d never force you to do something you're uncomfortable with. No matter what we’re doing, a single uttered ‘dusk’ from my little dawn will end it. 

Yours truly,

K. 

Ciaran blinked and read through the letter again. He wanted him to put the blindfold on and leave the window open for him? Did he want to sneak in like a man courting a young girl in the movies? That idea was so mad, it made him chuckle. Yet, it had a certain charm, as he liked the suspense kept in it. 

Still, he wasn’t sure about inviting him into his room. To be blindfolded on the bed without any knowledge of who might enter and what was happening was an unsettling thought. But at the same time, it reawakened all the butterflies fluttering in his stomach. Honestly, who was this guy? Was it really Jack? 

The only way to know for sure was probably to ask him. Would he tell him the truth? If he kept hidden, claiming he will give him his identity once he was ready – would he even answer truthfully? 

Most likely not. If this was some kind of script Jack had planned out for himself, he would play it through until the end. But maybe the answer was closer than expected? He hadn’t asked him out if he wasn’t intent on getting closer to Ciaran. 

Ciaran took the blindfold, laid back on his bed and investigated the fabric more. It was dense enough to not let light through. The black color was deep and made it seem even more expensive. He ran the fabric through his fingertips to feel a slight coolness, that surely was convenient on the skin. 

He decided to wait for the night of the prom. If Jack came around with a confession by himself, that would be fine. If he didn’t, Ciaran would ask him outright and try to determine by his reaction if he was the sender of all these messages. 

He hid the blindfold in the drawer of his nightstand. His mother shouldn’t find it, no matter if he ever decided to use it or not, it would raise concerns. She had plenty of them already, so he didn’t wish to add further to it.

His smartphone vibrated, showing him that someone had messaged him. He followed the notification to find an article Dylan had sent him. 

Dylan 5:17 pm

Did you see yet, Cia? The thing about Pierce is in the paper. 

He hesitated at first, just looking at the small preview thumbnail that was shown to him. Drunk teenager dies in Mistdale - Tragedy raises questions on alcohol consumption by students. 

He didn’t wish to read further information about Pierce or the situation itself. Yet, there were still so many open questions he hadn’t been able to answer. In the end, curiosity won the inner battle. Sighing, he clicked onto the link and followed it right to the news article. The picture alone was enough to run a shiver down his spine.

Drunk teenager dies in Mistdale - Tragedy raises questions on alcohol consumption by students

On the last night from Saturday to Sunday, a young student lost his life due to a hit by a truck. The victim P. was out with friends celebrating until deep at night. Witnesses claimed the student was highly alcoholized and barely able to walk as he left the club where the friends were partying.

The tragedy occurred as the friends walked close to the main street. Suddenly, the victim tripped and fell right in front of the truck driving on the road. Sadly, neither the friends nor the driver could react in time to save the young man. Emergency responder claimed the student was dead on the impact without any chance to save him.

The parents of P. are mourning their son’s death and blame the club’s owner for giving students excessive access to alcohol. “If they hadn’t given him more once he was already clearly too drunk to get home, he wouldn’t have fallen onto the street”, said the mother of the victim in our short interview. The mourning couple wants to create a petition to the local government to set a limit on drinks a single student can get access to. 

“We don’t wish for tragedy to repeat itself”, claimed Mr. W. “We want to protect other parents from suffering the same loss.”

The family isn’t the only victim of the accident. The driver of the truck, Mr. G. is shocked after the incident. “I cannot sleep anymore”, he told our reporter. “All the time I see the face of the boy before me and hear his head cracking on the street. I tried to hit the brakes, but it was too late already. I had no chance to stop the truck in time.” 

The police officer on site explained the braking distance of the vehicle in drive was too grand to come to a halt instantly. “Mr. G. was driving within the allowed speed limit. He had no opportunity to stop the tragedy from happening.” 

This counters the first claims of residents that suspected the driver of speeding on the main street. The whole of Mistdale is feeling with the family. Mr. and Mrs. W. decided to hold the burial of her son outside of town to mourn without interference. 

Ciaran closed the article and sighed deeply. What should he think about it? Even in death, Pierce caused further trouble for people. There it was again. The feeling of emptiness that stuck to his gut as if he had lost something twice. Maybe he did. First in losing the boyfriend he thought to love him. Second, in losing the chance to be justified mad at him. “Once again, it’s all about you, isn’t it? I cannot even scream or curse you anymore without being the mean one that’s tarnishing the dead.” 

He shouldn’t have read the damned thing.