Lana rubbed her tired eyes and furrowed her eyebrows as she strained to see through the darkness.

"Who's there?" Her voice echoed through the quiet house.

Carl's heart pounded in his chest as he made a quick decision. Without a moment's hesitation, he crouched down and crawled out of the room, carefully avoiding Lana's line of sight. He glanced back and saw that the lights in Lana's room had turned on, illuminating the empty space he had just vacated. Desperate to hide, he slipped into the room adjacent to Lana's, his mind racing with fear and uncertainty.

"Who's there!?" Lana's voice echoed again, louder this time, from down the hall.

Carl peered through the narrow gap in the door and watched Lana's shadow approaching the room he was in. His heart felt like it was about to burst out of his chest. He knew he had to find a place to conceal himself, and quickly.

I am done for. This is it. There's no way I am getting out of this without getting caught.

He scanned the room and spotted a bed and a closet on the left side. With no other options, he darted towards the closet and slipped inside, locking the door behind him. The musty smell of old clothes surrounded him as he huddled in the darkness. As he waited in the cramped space, wishing for Lana to pass by, his mind raced with thoughts.

What will be her reaction? She will be disgusted. Of Course she will be! I broke into her house. Will she be able to recognise me? Who am I kidding? I don't even exist in her world.

The door creaked open, and Lana's footsteps echoed in the room.

"I…I am going to call the police." She stuttered.

Carl held his breath, his eyes glued to the sliver of light that seeped in through the closet door. He watched as Lana turned off the lights, plunging the room into darkness once again. But just as he thought he might escape unnoticed, Lana stopped and turned back towards the closet. His heart leapt into his throat as she reached for the closet door, his whole body tensing in anticipation.

Is this it? Will my love story end before even getting started? The only thing I love will start to hate me.

Lana hesitated for a moment, as if sensing something amiss. She flicked the lights back on, and Carl's heart skipped a beat. Sweat trickled down his forehead as Lana slowly approached the closet, her footsteps measured and deliberate. Carl closed his eyes tightly, unable to bear the tension any longer.

The closet door creaked open, and Carl braced himself for the inevitable. But as the seconds ticked by, nothing happened. He cautiously opened his eyes and found himself back in his own bed, still sweating and breathing heavily. It took him a moment to realise that it had all been a dream. Relief flooded over him, and he let out a nervous laugh, feeling a mix of gratitude and disbelief.

"Was it a dream? He..hehe..HaHaHaHa. It was just a fucking dream." He muttered to himself, relieved that his love story hadn't come to an abrupt and disastrous end before it even had a chance to begin.

He sat up on his bed, taking deep breaths to calm his racing heart, grateful that it had all been a figment of his imagination.

As Carl woke up the next morning, he was greeted by a pounding headache. He dragged himself out of bed, his hood pulled low over his head, and made his way to college with his hands buried in the pockets of his sweatshirt.

I might look like a complete loner but I do have a friend.

Upon entering the classroom, Carl saw a couple of students chatting at the back. One of the students on the side was his friend.

Jake Moore, my only friend who is also the only person I talk to. Tall, handsome, popular guy with a physique that turned heads and a jawline that could cut through metal. On top of that, he came from a wealthy family with a successful realtor as a father. It amazes me how we ended up becoming friends in the first place.

Carl walked straight to his seat and sat down.

From the outside he may seem like the perfect guy but he is far from it. Insecurity, anxiety, low self esteem, you name it. Most of this originates from his mental illness that he suffers from since childhood. Due to which he has hallucinations and symptoms similar to that of a schizophrenic.

Carl waited, but unlike their usual routine, Jake didn't approach him. Carl furrowed his brow, growing impatient with each passing moment. He turned around to get Jake's attention.

What's going on? Usually, he comes up to me and puts me in a chokehold or messes up my hair.

Despite Jake's good looks, academic success, and wealthy parents, he struggled to make friends. The students in our class knew about his mental illness and some made fun of him while others gossiped behind his back. I myself don't find his illness that odd.

Unable to catch Jake's eye, Carl turned towards the front.

That's why I was his only friend. But I guess that is no longer a problem. He seems to be too busy with his new friends. But I know that none of them are talking to him because they want to. The girls talk to him because of his good looks and the boys know that he will pay for them just if they asked him to. That's how he has always been. Giving into peer pressure and not being able to say no.

Carl thought to himself as he tapped his feet nervously on the floor. He turned around and called out to him.

"Jake."

But Jake seemed distant, his gaze fixed on something else. Carl tried again, raising his voice.

"Jake!"

Jake stopped talking to his classmates. Finally, he looked at Carl, but his expression was cold and distant. Carl couldn't help but feel confused and hurt. Jake turned back to his classmates and resumed his conversation, leaving Carl feeling ignored and forgotten. With a sigh, Carl faced the front of the classroom, trying to focus on the lesson.

The bell rang, and Carl rushed out of the class to the college entrance. He once again waited for Lana. When her euphonic voice fell into his ears, he turned around with excitement to find her talking to some of her classmates. But suddenly, the smile on his face turned pale, and his eyes opened up wide. Lana was wearing the same top and skirt he saw yesterday in the dream.

Is this what people call deja vu? That was just a dream. This is just a coincidence right?

He couldn't shake off the feeling of familiarity as he followed Lana home, just like he had done countless times before. But this time as he walked behind her, he noticed a peach-coloured stain on her skirt, and it hit him like a bolt of lightning - it was the stain from a lip balm!

His legs stopped.

"It wasn't a dream."