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They said life had a way of bringing lonely souls together.
Sure, you had hoped there might be more people like you on this earth. People with a gaping emptiness in their hearts, not even knowing what exactly it would take to fill it. People who could be in the middle of a crowded room and still feel alone.
Who wondered if maybe, just maybe there was someone else out there who felt a similar way. A fellow alien.
But you certainly hadn’t expected him.
That man who had immediately caught your eye when he walked into the bookstore. Polished leather jacket. Soft-looking brown hair that made you briefly think about what the strands might feel like between your fingers.
He had taken his sunglasses off as the door clicked shut behind him. Not even looking your way yet. Not noticing you - or so you thought. But nonetheless, something inside of you had started to feel watched. Like he was already aware of everything in the room, even though he had only seen a fraction of it.
It was a strange feeling. He wasn’t the usual stranger that just blended in with the rest of the crowd seamlessly.
You hadn’t meant to stare. But you couldn’t help yourself.
His gaze had scanned the bookshelves, drifting, drifting… until it eventually landed on you.
Sitting in a cozy chair by the window, book in hand.
You hadn’t even attempted to do the ‘polite’ thing - to quickly drop your gaze back to the pages and pretend like this man hadn’t made you forget the last sentence you had read the moment he came in.
You couldn’t.
For a beat, your eyes had locked across the library. A quiet storm behind those deep blue irises of his.
The faintest smile tugging at the corner of his lips, so small it just might have been an illusion.
You had looked away first.
~
Two weeks went by and you spotted him in your favorite library a few more times. And not one of those times had passed without him noticing you too.
A glance across the shelf. A subtle nod when he walked by.
And then, at last… he seemed to run out of excuses not to talk to you.
It was on a Wednesday afternoon. You were just looking through one of the shelves for a new book to read when footsteps approached from behind, the quiet of the library making them sound louder than they actually were.
You instinctively turned around, and there he was. Not looking at the shelf. Not looking for a book. He was here for you.
Slightly taken aback, you could only muster up a small smile. It wasn’t often that you got approached so directly, especially in a place like this where people were usually engrossed in books and minding their own business.
“Nice choice,” he commented, eyes flicking down to the book you had picked up. A poetry collection.
“My name is Erik.”
You gave him your own name in turn and he offered you his hand. It felt firm against yours, tendons flexing beneath the skin of his forearms during the motion.
“Poetry, huh?” he remarked, eyes lingering on the book. “I figured you’d be someone who reads this.”
You chuckled lightly. “Yeah. I like getting into other people’s heads. To see the world through their eyes.”
He gave you an approving nod.
“I’ve been wondering… can you play chess?”
“Um… kind of,” you responded. “That is I know the rules, but I’m certainly not a challenging opponent. Why?”
The corner of his mouth curled up in a smirk. “Care for a game with me?”
A part of you whispered that this didn’t sound like just an invitation to a chess game. That there might be some deeper meaning behind it. But you didn’t want to assume.
“Sure,” you answered as casually as you could.
He led the way to a more secluded section in the back of the library, where there was a wooden table with a chess set on it. It looked fairly high quality; the pieces were made of gleaming metal, intricate golden and silver figures staring each other down across the board.
You decided to sit down on the silver side, uncertain whether it represented white or black.
Erik took the seat on the opposite side, his features now sharpened by the soft overhead light. If he keeps looking at me like this, you thought, my chances of winning are gonna be even closer to zero than they already are.
“Who goes first?” he asked.
You tilted your head in confusion. “White goes first, always.”
“According to the official rules, yes,” Erik said, seeming amused. “But I prefer to let you choose.”
Interesting, you thought. Not a man who plays by the rules, I see.
You pondered your decision for a moment, then told him: “Actually, let’s start with black then.”
“That would be you.”
The thought crossed your mind that in a normal game, he would have been the one to set the tone as white. But he had handed that privilege to you instead. Why? Was it out of pity, because he knew you weren’t going to be that good?
Before your thoughts could spiral, you decided to focus on your first move instead. Instead of going in with one of the pawns, you opted to open with your knight.
You waited for Erik to make his move. But he didn’t lift a finger.
His pawn moved to the next square on its own.
You froze, eyes glued to the little golden chess piece. A satisfied grin spread across his face.
“Guess I haven’t told you about my superpower yet.”
That’s when it hit you. The man in front of you was not just a man. He was a mutant.
Something inside of you shifted at the realization.
“You want to continue?” Erik spoke up when you didn’t respond right away. “Promise I’ll play fair.”
You glanced up at his smug expression and gave a small nod. “Yeah. It was just…”, you searched for the right word, “unexpected.”
Eventually, you reached for a pawn and moved it two squares forward. A setup for a classical Vienna Game, which you had read about in a book once.
It was almost funny, trying to be in control now that you knew that your opponent could literally make the pieces bend to his will.
At first, your moves were pretty solid. You tried to stick to the safe ones you remembered, nothing too bold or risky. Erik kept his promise. He didn’t play in an overly aggressive way, matching your pace.
And yet, it felt like he was the more powerful one on the board nonetheless. While you had to lean forward and physically move the pieces with your fingers, he could just sit back and let them move by sheer power of will.
A turning point came. You sacrificed one of your bishops at a disadvantageous moment, leaving yourself open to attack. You realized too late what you had done.
Erik didn’t show mercy. His golden piece slid across the board, taking your queen. Your most valuable piece.
You knew that you now had little chance of recovering from this fatal mistake. Scanning the board, it was clear that the odds were in Erik’s favor.
You attempted to salvage what you could, but endgames had always been your weakness. Not much later, he had your king cornered, leaving no room for escape.
Checkmate.
Defeated, you slumped back in your chair. “Told you,” you said. “Good game though.”
“I enjoyed this,” Erik replied. “You played quite well. You’re not bad.”
You cocked your head. “Very flattering of you.”
“Would you like to try again?” he offered with a playful glint in his eyes. “I’ve got a very efficient way of setting all the pieces back up.”