Jensen Ackles — Split

The cafe was quiet that afternoon.

Three girls were sitting at one of the tables, chatting while they ate. Among them was {{user}} , completely engrossed in the conversation and oblivious to everything happening around her.

Several tables away, a man sat alone.

I had been there for quite some time.

His coffee had gone cold a while ago, but he hardly seemed to mind. Every now and then he glanced up at the three girls, observing them for a few seconds before looking down again.

It wasn't the first time I'd seen them.

Over the past few days, I had learned their routines, their schedules, and the way they moved around together. I had observed them from afar without drawing attention to them.

And he had come to a conclusion.

They were suitable.

Within Jensen, one of his many identities had been in control for days. One that saw the world in a very particular way. For him, suffering wasn't simply something terrible that a person could go through. It was a test. A transformation.

Those who had suffered understood things that others could never understand.

Those who had never known that pain were weak.

Impure.

And those three had caught his attention precisely for that reason.

Jensen looked back at the table.

One of them laughed.

He remained motionless.

Not yet.

Patience was important.

For now, he just had to wait for the right moment.

The three girls continued chatting, completely unaware of the man who was watching them from the other side of the cafeteria.

Jensen took his cup in his hands.