Lenore rushed forward and threw herself in front of the fog-wreathed figure. One look at his face and her throat closed up, knotted with emotion. She couldn't believe what she was seeing. She wanted to blink, to force her eyes to reset in case they were playing cruel tricks, but she couldn't bring herself to take her eyes off him in case he disappeared on her... again.
It was him.
Victor.
Somehow, he had come back to her.
A sob shook out of Lenore, her eyes filling with tears. She had waited for this moment for so long. She wanted to leap at him and throw herself into his arms, but she couldn't bring herself to move. Some deep part of her held her back, as though it could sense that something was wrong with him... She looked closer, searching for any sign of what it could be, or evidence of what had hidden him away for so long.
Victor looked almost exactly the same as the last day she'd seen him. His hair was slightly more mussed, as if he'd just woken up from a fitful sleep, and, of course, he no longer wore the fateful green hoodie. There was a large stain on his white t-shirt, starting at the collar and running down the length of his torso, but it was more yellow than red. If it had been blood, it was old. And there was no sign of a wound that could've made it. From what Lenore could see, he was completely unharmed, his skin as smooth and unblemished as before.
As Lenore stood there, trying her best to make sense of what she was seeing, Victor hadn't moved at all. He was staring off into the distance, looking out at the distant silhouette of the woods hidden in the fog, as though he was under its spell. He hadn't noticed her at all.
"Victor?" Lenore called to him, trying to pull his attention. "Is that really you? What are you doing here?"
He kept staring, not blinking, towards the forest.
"Victor!" Lenore tried again, waving her hand in front of his face.
He didn't even flinch.
Lenore didn't know what else to do. What she really wanted was to reach out and touch him, but her nerves made that impossible. That same deep fear was concerned that touching him would cancel out whatever magic had brought him back to her. She worried that the second she touched him, he'd flicker out of existence or, worse, her hand would pass right through him.
Could... Could he be a ghost?
But as Victor kept standing there, his expression blank as he kept staring into the forest, he seemed very solid. Lenore was left with no choice.
She fought her instincts and reached for his wrist...
Her fingers locked around something solid. Cold, but solid.
He was there, really there.
Finally, after all this time.
She tightened her grip, squeezing at his wrist.
"Victor!"
Finally, the forest's spell over him broke. He blinked several times, and his gaze refocused, then shifted, settling on Lenore.
"Hey," he said. A smile broke across his face as he took her in. It made Lenore's heart stutter. He was as perfect as ever. "Did you chase after me for one more kiss?"
"Chase after you?" Lenore echoed, her face tensing in confusion.
"We just said goodbye," he said, his smile going wider. "And you couldn't even wait until tomorrow..."
A shiver that had nothing to do with the bitter weather shook through Lenore.
What was he talking about?
Did he still think it was the day he went missing?
He raised his hand and reached for her face. Lenore went still, bracing for his touch, still unsure whether or not this was some kind of dream. But his fingers felt very real as they grazed against her cheek before he caught a stray strand of her hair and tucked it behind her ear. Lenore fought a shudder. Even though all she'd wanted these past few months was to feel his touch again, his fingers were like ice.
He was freezing cold.
"Victor," Lenore said, staring into his clouded eyes. "Where have you been?"
Now, it was Victor's turn to look confused. "What are you talking about? I just left your house, I was about to walk home—" He stopped then, finally taking in his surroundings for the first time. His brows knotted together.
Though the fog was still thick, it was still easy enough to see the shadow of her house looming behind him, and the deep, snowy drifts that surrounded it.
"That's strange," he muttered, looking back at it. "Didn't I just leave here? I was already in the woods when... When..." His frown deepened, as though there wasn't anything in his memory beyond that.
"You don't remember?" Lenore pressed, her own brows arching across her forehead. "You don't remember anything?"
"Remember what?" Victor asked, sounding almost panicked. As he glanced around, his expression began to turn to worry as the time passed became more and more apparent. "Where'd all this snow come from? I swear it was just raining..."
He turned back to her then, as if she might have the answer. Lenore just stared back, unsure of what to say, or even where to begin. He must've seen something upsetting in her face, as he stepped back from her, pulling his hand out of hers. He looked down at his hands and arms, inspecting them for some unknown sign.
"What... What's going on, Lenore?" he asked, his voice trembling now. His eyes were wide with fear. " I feel... I feel strange. I... I think something's wrong with me."
Lenore looked down at his hands, too. She couldn't see what he saw, but she did notice that he was standing barefoot in the snow.
"I... I don't know," Lenore admitted. "But we need to get you inside."
"Are... Are you sure?" he said, looking up from his hands. His wide eyes glistened with worry. "Won't your mom be mad? She didn't seem to like me."
"I'm sure she'll understand," Lenore said, now glad that her mother had gone off on her errand. "We need to get you warm first, then we can sort out whatever's wrong after."
Lenore didn't bother to wait for his reply before she grabbed his wrist and pulled him towards the house. He went along without a fight, dead weight as she dragged him behind her. She hauled him up the porch steps and to the back door. Lenore didn't even look back as she pushed inside and kicked her snowy boots off, sending them tumbling across the clean kitchen floor. With the power still out, the kitchen wasn't much warmer than outside, so she led Victor through to the living room.
The last log on the fire was sputtering, just cinder at this point, giving off almost no warmth. Lenore swore under her breath. There were a million calls she had to make—to tell people that Victor was back, to summon help—but first, she needed to get him warm. She blindly shoved Victor down into her mother's favourite chair and threw herself down in front of the hearth.
She pulled the last logs out of the metal holder at the side and laid them on the dying coals, prodding at them to wake the embers. The wind howled over the chimney, sending air whipping down into the hearth, and the pile of logs flamed to life. Warmth began to spread through the living room.
The warmth and relief relaxed Lenore's muscles. She sighed, knowing that Victor could now start to unthaw. She hoped it'd be enough.
"There, that should help," she said, as she turned back to Victor. "Now, I need to call someone—"
She laid eyes on Victor for the first time since they'd gotten inside, and froze.
Victor stared back at her, tilting his head. "Why would you need to call someone?"
"I—I..." Lenore sputtered, her eyes locked on him, unsure of how to respond.
Though Victor still looked a little rattled, he had settled into her mother's favourite chair, absorbing the fire's warmth and letting it calm him. Lenore, however, felt anything but calm. Her heart thrashed in her chest, and her nerves sang with electricity as she stared at him. That feeling, that same voice something deep inside, was smug, gloating that it had been right all along.
Something was wrong with Victor.