VXELEVEN

A Voice of the Immortal Beloved

NIGHT MARKET

The night market pulsed with life. Noire slowed as she approached, her senses sharpening with every step. Blaring music, boisterous laughter, spontaneous movement—all too sharp. Every voice felt closer, and every movement, louder than it should be. Beneath it pulsated something even more immense; something warm…metallic…mortal. It was a cool evening, but sweat began to gather on her brow. She swallowed a gulp of air hoping to quell the swelling anxiety. Faces seemed to blur as people passed by. A woman passed a little too closely and Noire couldn’t help but to close her eyes; her head turned slightly, nostrils flared, and a sound ringing loudly above the bustling noise—

pulse.

She gripped her stomach as it tightened. “No…” she whispered, stepping back. People moved around her like nothing was wrong…like she wasn’t unraveling in the middle of them. Deciding to retreat, Noire turned quickly but collided with someone as she tried to get away. The warmth of the impact almost dazed her. She staggered backward, but felt hands catch her. The hands were steady and firm, reassuring but so warm. Too warm. 

“You good?”

Noire looked up to focused, calm, brown eyes looking back at her. “…Yeah,” she muttered incoherently.

“You sure?” The voice responded. She nodded, though it wasn’t true.

“First time here?”

“…Is it that obvious?” Noire asked, adjusting her posture.

They both crack a small smile. “Only if you’re paying attention.” The two locked eyes for a moment that felt like a lapse in time. “I’m Aubrey.”

“Noire.”

Aubrey nodded. “Nice to meet you, Noire.” The way his gaze lingered sent signals through her deeply—not invasive, just aware. The pull hit again, but stronger this time. She had to catch her breath, and Aubrey noticed. “You okay?” he asked, softer now.

“…Yeah.” Noire shifted slightly but her eyes didn’t move; they were locked on the face of the stranger, until the voice came from behind him, 

“Hey—Dude?”

Noire blinked, the moment breaking slightly. A small group stood a few steps away. One of them tilted their head toward Noire, curious but not unfriendly.

“You coming or what?” another called.

Aubrey glanced back at them, then returned his attention to Noire. “Sorry,” he said. “I was with them.”

Noire followed his glance. A group of friends, she thought. Laughing with each other. Waiting for their friend—together—only a few feet away. But as Noire watched them, something about them felt distant and foreign. “You don’t have to stay,” she said quickly. Just as easily, Aubrey replied, 

“I wasn’t planning on leaving just yet.” That caught her off guard. “You said you wanted to sit?” he added.

Noire hesitated, but only for a second, before she responded, “…Yeah.”

They moved toward a bench near the edge of the market. Time seemed to slow tempo and the noise dulled slightly. The buzz of the night hadn’t completely dissipated but rather dialed down to a manageable hum. Aubrey sat beside her, “Better?”

“…A little.” Noire nodded, exhaling. He sat at a gentlemen’s distance, not too close, but there was a pull present—almost magnetic. Behind them, the group shifted again; they seemed to be getting restless. One of them stepped closer, leaning slightly toward Aubrey.

“We’re heading out in a bit,” they said under their breath. “You coming?”

Aubrey glanced back, then at Noire, then at the ground. “…We’re going to a rave later,” he said, glancing back up at her. “Not too far from here.”

Noire raised a brow. “A rave?”

“Yeah.” Aubrey said through a faint smile. He stood, brushing his hands lightly against his jeans. “My friends are getting ready to head out,” he said, pointing back at the group with his thumb. “I should probably catch up with them.”

Noire nodded, though something in her hesitated. “Yeah… Of course.”

Aubrey paused before gesturing. “If you come,” he said, “it’ll be at the warehouse just past the east end of the park. You’ll hear it before you see it.” He gave a small smile.

Noire let out a quiet breath, “…Okay.”

He turned, then stopped. “Hey—Noire?” She looked up.

“Don’t overthink it,” he smirked faintly. Then he was gone—folding back into the group, into the bustle, into the night. Noire stood there a moment longer then looked back out at the crowd.

Don’t overthink it.