The door magically shuts behind Kristian—Viktor. He didn't utter a word, nor did I see a wand. It just happened out of the blue. Something, or someone, compelled it to close. Maybe it can read minds because it's enchanted. Maybe it knows I'm freaked by Viktor being Kristian's doppelganger. Whatever the reason, it's eerie.

    Without asking for permission, Viktor sits on my bed, leaving only a square inch or so between us. He's too close for comfort. He invited himself inside to return my key. The deed is done. Why is he sticking around? Why does he have to sit there and torture me like this?

    I suppose the elephant in the room needs to be addressed. I don't know how long I'll be here, and Viktor is the boss of this place. If my soul has any chances of healing, Viktor can't be problematic. I just hope he doesn't laugh about it.

    I anxiously rub my arm and keep my gaze to the floor, afraid that another glimpse of Viktor will set me off.

    "So um, why are you still here?" I mumble. "No offense, but I have the key now. You don't have to stay."

    "That is a nice bracelet," he comments, totally avoiding my question.

    "What bracelet?" I wonder, whipping my head up to face him. "I'm not wearing any jewelry. I would definitely remember if I w—"

    "Oh my God," I whisper in disbelief. "Questo non duò essere reale!" (This can't be real!)

    As I stare at the two charms, grief over my lost life overwhelms me. They're the flags of Bulgaria and Kazakhstan. Kristian. This bracelet is like his version of my ring because both halves of him are represented with each flag.

    The thing is, he never gave me this bracelet. How did I acquire it? And how did it get on my arm?

    "Are you okay?" Viktor asks. "You look scared or surprised, or both."

    "I-I'm sorry," I apologize in a whisper, still captivated by the charms. "I jus—this is so unexpected and I'm getting emotional. Fuck. I'm sorry, Viktor. Great first impression, I know."

    I bite down on my lip, feeling the urge to sob become stronger than before. Viktor holds my hand and runs the pad of his thumb across my knuckle to help sooth the pain. With his other hand, he touches the charms. I still have yet to face him.

    "Your boyfriend was Kristian Kostov, right?" he questions, lifting my arm for a better look at the charms. "Isn't he from these countries?"

    I pull my arm back and dare to shoot him a glare. Viktor chuckles Kristian's chuckle and smirks. I wonder if he can tell I'd love to punch his face right now. If I do punch him, it's not like I'd hurt Kristian. Or would I?

    That's crazy, I think. Just because Viktor looks like Kristian doesn't mean he's this—this spirit form of him. Their only connection is their appearance. Viktor seems like a douche, anyways. Krisitan definitely isn't one. Parisa, he is NOT Kristian. Viktor i—   

    "You did not answer my question," Viktor disrupts my thoughts. Rude. "Kristian was you boyfriend, right?"

    "IS," I furiously correct, intensifying my glare. "Kristian is my boyfriend, not that it matters to you or anything."

    "You're using the wrong tense, Parisa. How can he be your boyfriend right now if you are dead and he is not?"

    "Are you purposefully trying to piss me off? Because if you are, you're doing a damn good job at it. Ticking all the right boxes to set me off, you are."

    "Because I brought up your boyfriend?" he challenges with a playful wink that kills. Damn Viktor and his resemblance to Kristian!

    Livid, I jump off of the bed and point at the door. Viktor laughs, amused at my attempt at intimidation, and proceeds to stand as well. Yeah, I'm not so scary when he's towering over me looking like a European model. I need a new approach so he can fuck off.

    "Why does it bother you so much that I mentioned Kristian?" he pesters, taking a step forward.

    "BECAUSE HE'S NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS!" I yell, moving back. "And I don't know how this bracelet got on my wrist, okay? He never gave me one like this when I was alive. Wait, why am I telling you this? I should be speaking to my therapist about this, not you!"

    I really despise Viktor. He simply laughs and pushes his perfect ebony hair back. God do I wish he didn't look like Kristian right now! The boy is pure torture and taking the absolute piss out of me!

    "Sit," he instructs, nodding towards the oak desk chair.

    "No," I protest, crossing my arms over my chest and shooting him a black look. "I don't care if you run this place. Why should I listen to you, Viktor...Krum?"

    "Nice guess, but that's not my last name. at least I know you have good taste in books. So you're what, a Slytherin because you're a sly snake?"

    "No," I huff, offended he'd make such an assumption. "Being a Slytherin isn't necessarily a bad thing, but I'm a Hufflepuff fyi."

    Viktor burst into laughter. I don't see what's so funny about being a Hufflepuff. Many brilliant witches and wizards were sorted into that house: Cedric Diggory, Newt Scamander, and Nymphadora Tonks just to name a few. He shouldn't laugh at my house!

    "Are you don't mocking me now?" I question. "You should leave now if that's all you came here to do. I just want to rest, okay! Is that too much to ask?"

    "No," he admits. Viktor sighs and pushes up his glasses. "But can I ask you something? I promise it's nothing derogatory. It's not about your life either."

    "I dunno. How do I know I can trust you?"

    Viktor takes my hands in his and pulls me closer, but not uncomfortably close. Yet everything about Viktor reminds me of Kristian. Like our last kiss, the combination of chocolate and spearmint is prevalent, worming its way into my nostrils to flood my sense of smell. His touch parallels Kristian's, so reassuring and familiar that I don't feel endangered. And then there are his eyes...how can such gorgeous, kind brown eyes deceive me?

    I bashfully divert my gaze, desperate to look anywhere but at him. All those memories are too overbearing. I'm getting butterflies in my stomach just thinking about Krisitan. I've already established that I should separate the two, but I can't. It's impossible when Viktor's gazing at me with Kristian's eyes and smiling at me with Kristian's smile.

    "You trust Kristian, right?" Viktor whispers, making me release his hands. "If you trust Kristian, you can trust me."   

    "I-I don't understand," I anxiously stammer, still refusing to look him in the eye. What does my trust in Kristian have to do with you?"

    "Because we're similar. You can't look me in the eye because I look like him, Parisa. Admit it. That's why mentioning him angers you. You don't want to discuss Kristian with me because it hurts too much that I look like him."

    "That's bullshit!" I spit.

    "Then look at me!"

    "No."

    "Why not?"

    "I'm not obligated to look at you," I sneer. "You can't force me to do that."

    "You're right," he agrees, much to my relief. "But I know that's why you can't face me. I'm Bulgarian and I look like Krist—"

    "YOU'RE BULGARIAN?" I blurt out, staring in shock.

    "I spoke Bulgarian when I introduced myself," he laughs. "I'm not half Kazakh if that makes you feel better, but I am Bulgarian. I know I'm like, Kristian's long lost twin. Everyone here already told me that. I just don't have his voice. The boy can really sing. He has a great set of vocal chords on him."

    "And you're telling me this because...?"

    Viktor devilishly smiles, teasing me with his apparent good looks. I can't wait for him to spit it out and just leave. The nerve of him, I swear! He thinks he can just barge into my room and mock my feelings just because he runs the damn place. Puh-lease! I'm not feeding his ego. I won't admit his connections are off-putting and scary.

    "So...are you gonna admit I eerily resemble your ex-boyfriend or what?" he presses.

    "Firstly, Kristian is not my ex. We never broke up," I clarify.

    "But you're here and he isn't," Viktor smugly argues. "He still has a pulse and heartbeat, Parisa. Yours stopped. He's on Earth and you're here. H—"

    "And second, you shouldn't flatter yourself. Arrogance is the worst trait ever. It's not attractive at all. Just because you're tall, pale, and have the same eye and hair color as Kristian doesn't mean you're a shoe-in for his twin. You're not the only ones with those physical traits."

    "No, but you have to admit the resemblance is striking. It's not one of the hospital's tricks either. This is the real me, Parisa. No polyjuice potion. No magic whatsoever. It's just me, Viktor. I'm sorry my appearance makes you uncomfortable, but you'll have to deal with it."

    I can't believe he's doing this. Viktor may think he's all that and a bag of chips, but he's not. I will never openly admit the obvious. If this mind game is his way of trying to flirt, he's gravely mistaken. What he's doing isn't cute or funny; it's immature and insensitive.

    "You know what?" I ask, tossing my hair back. "I don't have to deal with you, Mister 'I Run This Place.' You have no right to overstay your welcome and mock me like this."

    "Besides your Hogwarts house, how have I mocked you? I've done nothing wrong."

    "YOU BROUGHT UP KRISTIAN AND RUBBED HIM IN MY FACE!"

    Viktor takes a step back and raises his hands, surrendering. Good. Now he has no counter argument. He should feel ashamed of himself.

    Yet he doesn't look sorry. The sinister grin he wears reminds me of the cheeky moment Kristian asked if I can make wishes happen. Kristian wore it flirtatiously; Viktor wears it maliciously. I don't think I can trust Viktor because of the way his eyes watch me like a bird of prey.

    "I'm not apologizing for that," he shrugs. "I don't have to. It's my right as your therapist to discuss your issues with you. That's how you heal, Parisa."

    "M-my therapist? You?"

    "Consider this your first session," he casually continues. "Kristian is clearly a huge weight on your shoulders. Your feelings for him are overwhelming. We'll talk more about him and your funeral next time. We're done for now."

    "F-funeral? M-my funeral already happened?"

    Viktor simply nods, then turns to leave. Stupefied, I stare as he slowly walks towards the door. I want to say something, anything for details, but I can't bring myself to do it. I've become numb.

    Viktor doesn't even say 'goodbye' as he exits. He leaves me hanging, standing here wondering what happened. I sigh deeply and shake my head, overwhelmed by this news. Deciding I need to rest, I head for bed.

    Just as I lay down, the door opens again. I grumble and sit up, ready to shoo the intruder away. I fail to utter a word seeing Viktor with his head peeking through the door.

    "It was yesterday—your funeral," he somberly reveals. "And that bracelet? Kristian gave it to you when he approached your casket. It was his parting gift to you. I just thought I'd let you know."

    Before leaving for good, Viktor throw a weak smile. Once he's gone, I take off the bracelet, hold it up to my face, and admire it.

    You're even now, I think as the bracelet dangles in my hand with the flags visible. You don't have to worry anymore, Parisa. Now you know he cares. Now you'll always have a piece of his heart no matter what.

A/N:

You guys, we're basically halfway to 2K reads...I can't even imagine getting that far. When it reaches that point, I will try to double update. Thank you so much for reading and your support. Honestly, you have no clue how much this means to you. You're the best! xx

Also, I apologize if this chapter sucks.