Chapter Text
The old mall still reeked of wet carpet and nostalgia—a scent that screamed, "Yes, people once cared about this place."
Christine had only done this a couple times before—urban exploration, alone, after dark. Her nerves made her fingertips tingle, but she lied to herself that she liked the quiet it brought. The mall felt impossibly big and empty tonight, every footstep echoing off tile and glass. She stepped carefully over the shattered remains of a store sign, her camera hanging from her neck like a badge she didn’t deserve. Her flashlight swept over walls of peeling paint and sun-bleached movie posters, their edges curled like old leaves. This place felt like an artifact, a memory she was trespassing on. She wasn’t quite sure if she belonged here, but something about the adventure pulled her forward.
Somewhere in the distance, something crashed.
Christine froze.
Another crash sounded, followed by a sharp laugh from somewhere unseen. The noise was loud, but didn’t exactly sound like someone having the time of their life. Christine followed the sound. Her heart tried to punch a hole through her ribs as she decided now was the time to be brave.
The sound led her through the labyrinth of the mall. She stared at the clothing store sign with half its letters missing and took a deep breath. Inside the store, it smelled like mildew. Old clothing littered the floor. It felt like people left one day and just decided to never come back. A tall man in a ripped jean jacket was swinging a metal rod at a display mirror that was already cracked like a spiderweb. He laughed again as he splintered it more.
When Jax—no, Felix—caught sight of his reflection in the glass, he went rigid. Jax’s face always showed up first, flickering in the warped reflections: purple bunny ears, wide yellow smile. For a moment, he almost expected to see the fractured world behind the glass instead of this moldy, half-lit department store. Felix’s wavy hair and brown eyes snapped back into place. Six months free and it still didn’t feel real; six months and he couldn’t shake the instinct to hide behind sarcasm and a smirk. He gripped the metal rod, wanting to smash away the last bits of Jax, but someone moved behind him and his pulse jumped.
That's when he saw her.
Standing behind him was a short, willowy woman with rounded facial features. Her hair was cut short with choppy bangs framing her face. She held her flashlight like a weapon, prepared to strike at any moment.
Felix spun around, his fake grin snapped into place like a switch being flipped.
“Well, shit,” he said softly, running a hand through his grown-out purple hair, “Didn’t think the mall cops would be so small. You here to arrest me, or just judge my demolition skills?”
Christine blinked, her fingers tightening on her flashlight. "They don’t hire anyone anymore. I just—like to take pictures. It’s quiet here." Her voice was soft but a little shaky, as if rehearsed.
He leaned on the rod like it was a cane, grin stretching too wide.
“Looking for what?”
She glanced past him at the ruined mirror, twisting the camera strap nervously. "Maybe I was looking for a mirror, but all I see is glass." Her attempt at a joke sounded cautious, as if she were testing the water.
That threw him off for half a second—then he smirked, masking the flicker of discomfort. “Congratulations. You found one. If you want a selfie, this is your only shot.”
Christine tilted her head, unamused but no longer afraid. “Do you always break things when you’re bored, or is this a special occasion?” Her tone was gentle as she tried to keep things light despite her nerves.
“Only when I’m really bored,” he said, his grin sharp. “You want to try? It’s great for stress. Or, you know, avoiding conversation.”
There was a beat of silence between them, the kind that feels like static.
Christine finally lowered the flashlight, her shoulders drooping. “You shouldn’t be here.” Her words sounded more worried than scolding, her eyes flicking to the broken glass as if imagining it cutting him.
“Neither should you,” Felix said, one eyebrow raised. He nodded at her camera bag. “But I guess we both like ignoring the rules. Some more artistically than others.”
She gave the faintest smile. “Guess so.”
Something about her made his chest feel tight—a weird, restless energy. Her round face, her short dark hair, the way she didn’t quite fit against the chaos of the mall. She smelled like pomegranate soap and bad ideas, and Felix hated that it made him want to inch closer instead of turning away.
“Art student? What are you? Like, twenty?” Felix tossed out, voice casual but too quick, as if trying to cover up something. He took a breath, hoping she wouldn’t see the nerves behind his sarcasm.
“Accountant, and I’m twenty-five.” Christine shifted, hugging her camera to her chest like a shield. “Who are you?” Her voice was softer now, almost curious, and she looked at him as if she couldn’t decide whether to bolt or laugh. This was already the most interesting thing to happen to her in ages.
“The Easter Bunny,” Felix said, voice low and teasing. He took a step closer, closing the gap between them so she could see the tiredness in his eyes beneath the bravado. He reached for her camera, and their hands brushed—his touch lingering, gentle in a way that surprised them both. After popping the SD card free and sliding it into his pocket, he grinned, masking the flicker of something softer. “Can’t have Mrs. Jr. Police Officer here knowing all my secrets in one night.” He hesitated, gaze locking with hers, and for a breath it felt like he wanted to say something real. Instead, he let the moment hang. “Guess you’ll have to track me down if you want your photos back.” The words were an invitation dressed as a challenge.
“Are you always a jerk to everyone you meet in abandoned places? I’d like that back now, please.” Christine held her hand out expectedly, throwing all the courage she had into this singular gesture.
Felix took her hand, his grip warm and a little shaky, holding it just a heartbeat longer than a normal handshake. “You’re funny—you can call me Felix.” His smile softened, almost vulnerable now. “I’ll see you around, short-stack. Don’t take too long looking for me.”
Christine released a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. The mall felt different now—less haunted, more alive. She watched Felix scoop up his battered skateboard from a fallen mannequin, his silhouette framed by the flickering light from a broken exit sign. He glanced back at her, just once, with a look that said he hoped she’d follow. The scent of cigarettes and wet grass lingered in the air long after he disappeared into the maze of abandoned storefronts.