NOVPUB
Chapter 20 - Dream Catcher
The conversation drifted into a quiet rhythm, the kind where laughter wasn't loud—it just lingered at the edge of every breath, like both of them were finally allowed to exhale for once.
Jayden eventually stood, brushing his hands off on his pants, and turned to face her properly now. The city lights caught the side of his face, and for once, his usual sarcasm took a back seat. Just for a moment.
His voice dropped low. "I used to get bullied so bad... I had nightmares whenever I closed my eyes."
His face tightened, like the words tasted bitter. "It didn't matter where I was—school, home, hell, even the streets—I was someone's punching bag on rotation. And I thought staying quiet would help. It didn't. Not even a little."
He stepped in, crouching down in front of her. Not too close. Just close enough for his voice to be real.
"And even when I did report it? Nothing changed. Teachers looked the other way. Adults shrugged. I get it. That helpless feeling, like your voice is on mute and the world's just watching you get wrecked."
Then, from his hand, he held it up—something he'd been fiddling with this whole time without her even noticing. 𝒏𝒐𝒗𝒑𝒖𝙗.𝒄𝒐𝒎
It was a delicate ring of thin twine, webbed through with threads and tiny beads that shimmered faintly under the streetlight, their warm tones glowing like little suns. At the bottom, soft feathers in rich midnight blue swayed gently with the breeze—light, hypnotic, almost magical in how they moved like they had a mind of their own.
It that made it even better. It looked intentional. Like it was meant for someone broken enough to understand it.
Small, handmade, strung together from the random straws and threads he picked up earlier. It wasn't perfect, but it had that unexplainable charm—the kind that looked like it was meant for you the moment you saw it.
"I can't fix your life, I'm no god." he said, eyes serious now. "But I can help with the nightmares."
He placed it gently in her hands. "This little thing? It's a called a Dream Catcher. It'll trap the bad dreams. At least you'll get some fucking sleep, yeah?"
She stared at it, brows slightly pulled together. fingers lightly tracing the threads like they held some hidden language. "Wait... how did you make this?"
Jayden gave her a sideways grin. "Oh, we don't have time for the whole TED Talk on my secret dream catcher skills. Let's not make this about me, even though, let's be real—it always kinda is."
Then his tone softened, just slightly—low and real.
"What matters isn't how it's made. What matters is what it's for."
She blinked, then raised her head just enough to meet his eyes. "You do realize I'm not seven years old, right? You can't just hand me a circle of fancy string and tell me it'll catch nightmares. That shit's not real."
Jayden grinned, tilted his head, and tapped her forehead gently. "Neither are half the people in your school pretending they're better than you, chérie. But that doesn't stop them from existing, does it?"
He stood back up slowly, hands sliding into his pockets. "Keep it. Even if it's bullshit, it's better than nothing. Like hope... but with arts and crafts."
Jayden nodded slowly, eyes flicking between the dream catcher in her hand and the disbelief still lingering in her face.
"Sometimes," he said, voice calm but firm, "it doesn't matter what's real or not. Magic, luck, miracles... shit's blurry. What matters is what you believe."
He straightened up, brushing invisible dust from his sleeves like the moment hadn't just gotten existential. "Believe that it works. That it'll stop the nightmares. And believe—really believe—that one day, you'll stop being the girl they chew up for sport."
He stepped back, hands sliding into his pockets as he began to turn away.
A few steps in, he paused, glanced over his shoulder with that classic Jayden smirk—cocky, effortless, and just enough mystery to mess with your thoughts.
"By the way—name's Jayden. Jayden Cross. Madame Mystery," he said with a little bow of his head like she'd just been granted the name of a deity.
And then he walked away.
No looking back. No slow-motion movie scene. Just the hum of the city, the bounce of his sneakers.
She watched him go, that messy curtain of blonde hair still framing her tired face. Her fingers curled tighter around the dream catcher as she whispered, just loud enough for herself:
"I'll believe in that miracle, Jayden Cross."
And for the first time in forever, she smiled. Not because someone wanted something. Not because she had to. But because maybe—just maybe—someone had been kind without asking for anything in return.
After all the shit she'd been through—years of being invisible, stepped on, whispered about like she wasn't even human—this felt... different. For once, someone actually gave a fuck. Someone sat next to her, looked her in the eyes, and didn't try to fix her, just saw her.
And yeah, maybe he was just a stranger, maybe they only shared a moment of mutual brokenness—but in that tiny window of time, he felt like a friend. Not the fake "omg babes let's hang out" kind. A real one. And damn, that feeling hit hard. Like unexpectedly hard. The kind that made her smile without realizing it, teeth showing, eyes soft.
She felt warm.
But he was already walking away.
No phone number. No Insta. No slow goodbye. Just gone.
Like some beautifully tragic NPC who existed only to give her a side quest of hope and then dipped.
Her chest tightened, and the smile slipped. She blinked fast, sniffed once, and wiped her cheeks with the sleeve of her jacket. Stupid tears. Always showing up uninvited.
She looked down at the thing in her hands—the delicate web, the blue feathers swaying a little like they were waving goodbye too.
"I should head to the restaurant," she whispered to herself, clearing her throat like it would erase the lump. "That place always makes me feel warm."
And tonight? She already had one warm memory. So why not grab a second? Stack the good while it's there. Who knew when the next one would come? Or if it would.
But as she stood up, eyes still searching the path he disappeared down, the question dug in—
Was it right to let it go?
To let someone like that vanish out of her life like he was never there?
She didn't have the answer. But she walked anyway. Holding the little gift in one hand and hope in the other.
