Intermission - Mila vs the Spirit.

Mila was late that day because she had to stay up until 3:00 am the previous night. She was texting with Oliver at around 9:00 pm when her stupid, stupid boyfriend had to ask her if she had finished the assignment they had for the next day. When Mila asked ‘what assignment?’ Oliver told her then completely stopped talking to her. Mila had to stay up late to finish the damn thing.

She let out a grumpy yawn as she parked her car in the school’s parking lot. It wasn’t like being at school 30 minutes before classes started could be considered being late, but… Sarah’s car was there and so was Grace’s. Noelle and Alice didn’t come to school by car, but they were usually early anyway. That meant she was missing out on time to be with her friends, and that in turn meant they were probably doing lewd things with their boyfriend without her!

Mila began to make her way to the club room. Her fast walk was just short of a jog. It was too early to be running. She let out another yawn and rubbed her eyes. It was when she moved her hands away that she saw him, standing there by the end of the hallway.

Mila smiled and her chest filled with warmth. She didn’t know why Oliver would be here instead of the club room, but it didn’t matter. The laziness she felt went away and she jogged towards her boyfriend.

“Oliver, good morn-”

Mila stopped dead in her tracks. Something was… off. No, more than just off. Something was very wrong.

Oliver smiled at her and waved, not saying anything. That in itself wasn’t weird. Even now Oliver was a quiet guy. It was just his nature. However, the closer Mila got to him, the more strange things she noticed.

For starters, there was the way he was standing. A hand in his pocket, the other arm high up to wave at her, his chin slightly raised. Then there was his expression. His smile lacked… warmth, as did the way he looked at her. All things combined, Oliver looked… cocky instead of sweet.

Most telling, however, was the absolute silence. Mila slowly walked closer to Oliver, and yet she felt… nothing from him. Normally, she felt like she could read his feelings, his state of mind. Every morning when they met, Mila could tell Oliver was happy to see her. She felt it directly in herself and it warmed her heart every time. Now, though… there was nothing. Not just a lack of reaction, but absolute silence.

She swallowed. “Oliver… Are you okay?” she asked him. Worry made her heart beat faster in her tightening chest.

“Hm? Yeah, I’m fine. Why? Do I have something on my face?” he asked. His voice… It sounded like Oliver alright, but his tone… It was too… cheerful? No. Smug? Closer. “God, you look beautiful today,” he said, very noticeably checking her out.

Mila blinked. Why did that compliment sound so… empty? It wasn’t like Oliver never told her she looked beautiful, but this felt like something he thought she wanted to hear more than something that came from the heart.

“T-Thanks…” She very nearly phrased it as a question.

Oliver then stepped closer and began to lean in for a kiss. How many had they shared up until now? How many hours had they spent just in each other, making out like nothing else mattered? It was one of Mila's greatest pleasures. So why was it that when she saw him coming closer she felt the urge to step back?

Oliver, however, was faster, almost desperately so. The first thing he did was get an arm around Mila’s waist, and that was when she decided this was not her Oliver.

She felt disgust. The moment his hand touched her, Mila felt repulsed by him.

She was willing to let Oliver fondle her breasts whenever he wanted. Oliver could kiss her out of nowhere and she’d melt, and hell, he could even get his hand between her legs and she’d spread them for him. But whoever this guy was, it wasn’t her boyfriend.

Mila stepped away forcefully before those lips could touch hers. This was all sorts of wrong, but… Mila **** herself to remain calm.

Whatever she was seeing, it looked and sounded exactly like Oliver, but it wasn’t Oliver. If the spirit living in Oliver’s head hadn’t proved that the supernatural existed, Mila would’ve been at a loss. Regardless, she was scared and unsure of what to do.

“S-Sorry, I just… had some garlic bread for breakfast,” she said, chuckling emptily and covering her mouth.

‘Oliver’ seemed to buy that and stepped away.

“I… see…” He cleared his throat. He looked disappointed, bitter, offended. “Well… I have to go to the restroom now. See you in class.”

‘See you in class’? When there were 30 minutes left until the bell rang? When they spent virtually every morning hanging out at the club room? When there was a restroom close to said club room?

Mila almost sighed in relief. This proved to her that this guy truly wasn’t Oliver. She hadn’t dared to even entertain the thought that maybe Oliver had just… changed overnight. That was far scarier.

“Hm? Just use the restroom at the club room, silly,” she told him.

“Ah… R-Right.”

Mila watched the guy’s face carefully. His expression was changing, contorting. He was conflicted, cornered. Then all of a sudden, he glared at her. It hurt. Even if she now knew this wasn’t Oliver, seeing Oliver’s face glaring at her hurt.

“The truth is… I don’t want to see you right now, Milana. Please leave me alone.”

So that was his approach now? What was this guy even trying to do? Also… Milana, huh?

‘Oliver’ turned his back to her and began to walk away. Mila pulled out her phone, typed at the speed of light and sent the message to their group chat. Then she ran after the impostor and grabbed him by the hand.

“What do you mean you don’t want to see me?” she asked, faking shock and pain. “W-What did I do!?”

She noticed something else. He looked and sounded like Oliver, but his hands… they lacked Oliver’s calluses.

“...I’ve grown tired of you, that’s all.”

It was very possible that hearing Oliver’s voice saying that would give her nightmares. Thankfully, she didn’t need to continue buying time. She heard many footsteps coming closer. She and the imposter turned to look down the hallway.

Grace, Alice and Noelle were running at the back with Sarah a few more steps ahead of them. But at the very front was Oliver, her real Oliver, rushing towards them as fast as his legs could carry him.

Feeling the connection again was a short-lived relief, for what Mila felt coming from Oliver was pure, hot fury. She pulled away from the impostor when Oliver reached them.

Oliver grabbed the impostor by the collar, lifted him up like it was nothing and pushed him against the wall.

“I warned you,” he seethed. “I fucking warned you, Jenkins!”

Mila blinked. The image of the fake Oliver became blurry until she saw the real person behind it.

Julian Jenkins was about to piss his pants.

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