"those eyes of yours

what hope did I
ever have?"

I walked back the whole way to the apartment, which was definitely a stupid idea since there was just my coat to ward me off the cold night. And by the time I was inside Luce's apartment, I was shivering uncontrollably.

The worst part? I knew it wasn't just the cold.

The whole walk back home was a horrible idea because I couldn't stop thinking about Alastair. And his soft promising lips. And his warm touch. And the way he had made me feel in just those few minutes.

It scared me. No, it terrified me.

If I hadn't pulled away, if Maria hadn't interrupted, would I have let him go on? How much further? How much further would it have taken him to finally realize that I wasn't worth it? How long would it have taken him to feel repulsed by me, to hate me like I hated myself?

Once I was inside the apartment, trembling and maybe even crying, I didn't even realize where I was going until I threw open a door and sank down on my knees. Everything I had eaten that day came out as I threw up in the toilet.

I was in a bathroom. My room. Maybe my room.

And I was crying. Shaking and crying. Because I felt disgusted and hated. Because my life wasn't fair and I hated it.

Pulling up my knees against my chest, I buried my face and wrapped my arms around myself, trying to muffle my sobs. It felt like someone was painfully squeezing my chest, trying to suffocate me within my own miserable thoughts. I could hear my quiet sobs and I hated that, I hated that I was crying for reasons that made absolutely no sense.

He'd hate me, wouldn't he? He'd move on and he'd leave and he'll start liking someone else. I wouldn't be there. I wouldn't be.

I didn't even see someone else coming inside until I felt a gentle touch on my arm, and then I was recoiling back, more so than I ought to. Because I really didn't want to be touched right now.

"Lia. God, calm down." It was Luce, I realized in horror, as a small hiccup escaped my lips. "Hey, hey, it's all right."

"Luce?" I whispered in a voice that sounded nothing like my own, small and so lost.

She came towards me and enveloped me into a hug, not even caring that I had thrown up just seconds ago. I didn't really try to push her away, even if I wanted to, mainly because she looked so worried, and I didn't want her to get worried.

That, however, didn't really stop me from crying. My voice had already gone hoarse and I hated that I couldn't stop crying right now. I hated this worthless, pathetic feeling.

"It's all right, Lia. It's all fine." She murmured with as much reassurance as she could have mustered up at that moment. Then she started stroking my hair and my quiet sobs fell into sniffs and hiccups. Something inside me hurt. Right where my heart was, it hurt.

I didn't know what was happening.

Minutes flew by and I finally came to notice that both of us were huddled on the bathroom floor. I was in my water-drenched clothes. Luce was in her pajamas.

"Feeling better?" She asked me after a while. I didn't pull away from her. Neither did I say anything. What was there to say anyway? There was absolutely no explanation for this behavior of mine. There was no way I could make her understand when I couldn't even explain this to myself.

"How about I make you some hot chocolate?" She asked just as softly, as if scared that I might break down again. "You're freezing. Let's get you out of these clothes first. Come on." And then she was pulling me up and dragging me outside the bathroom, back into my bedroom.

I kept standing in the middle of the room as she went ahead and threw open my closet. Under normal circumstances, I realized, she might have tsked at my untidiness. But all she did now was take out some soft pajamas before handing them to me.

"Change into them." She told me. "I'll be back with a mug of hot chocolate."

When she left, I decided to do what she had just said. My head felt heavy and a little empty now that I had spent some time crying. I hated crying, but I actually really liked this numb aftermath.

I slowly started pulling off my coat and my shoes before walking back inside the bathroom. By the time I got out, changed into my pajamas, I didn't really feel refreshed. I felt anything but refreshed. I felt tired. And sad.

I sat down on my bed and pulled up the duvet over me, up till my chin. At least I wasn't shivering like I had been a few minutes ago.

"Here you go." Luce arrived with two mugs in her hands, handing me one with a warm smile.

Instead of meeting her gaze, I took the mug from her hand and scooted over. She sat down beside me and I even let her share the duvet.

There was just silence between us as we sat shoulder to shoulder, and I sipped my hot chocolate. It reminded me of the time, years ago, when Luce used to live with us back in New York. Whenever we had a family movie night, a horror one, I'd find it really hard to sleep alone. And then I'd crawl into Luce's bed and she'd let me sleep with her. She was always there for me back when I was a kid.

Then she left New York. And I was left alone.

Sniffling, I wrapped my hands around the warm mug, trying to keep out the cold. Luce still didn't say anything and it felt like I needed to break this silence.

"I'm sorry this happened." I don't know why I was apologizing. Maybe because I figured that she had been sleeping until I woke her up. Maybe because I knew she was worried right now just because of me. "I don't...this doesn't happen often."

I heard her inhale deeply. "Lia, I don't want you to apologize."

I fell silent again.

"Not often, what do you mean by that?" She asked softly.

I just shrugged.

"Has it happened before?"

"No," I said. "I...I don't panic often." It wasn't a panic attack. This hadn't been like the panic attacks I used to have. It hurt thinking about them and those dark empty days, but I was fine right now.

Luce sighed and faced me. "Does Mom know about this?"

I shifted uneasily, placing a little distance between us.

"There's nothing to tell her," I whispered.

"Lia, a lot of teenagers your age get panic attacks. It's fine. You don't have to treat it like it's some life-ending disease." She said.

"I know," I murmured, still looking down at my mug. "It only happened once. Before this. I promise, nothing's...wrong with me."

She kept on staring at me before finally shaking her head in disbelief. Still, it didn't take her long to wrap an arm around my shoulders and I subconsciously leaned against her, closing my eyes. I just wanted to fall asleep for a very long time.

"I never said anything's wrong with you." She told me.

I didn't really believe her. But I fell asleep anyway.

******

Alastair called me on my phone. He called me at least ten times during the next few days, again and again before he finally seemed to give up.

Or at least that's what I thought.

I usually pushed my phone away whenever I saw his name flashing on the screen. I was being unfair to him and I was painfully aware of that. Just not returning his calls and trying to stay away took every ounce of my self-control. If I ever thought about answering his calls, there would be this heavy feeling in my stomach, pulling me down into that scary pit all over again.

It was scary. Every bit of the next few days was scary.

I ended up switching off my phone, not even caring if anyone from back home tried to call me. I didn't want to be reminded of home, or Alastair, or anything that might cause me to spiral down that black hole again. It was there, the black hole, trying to suck me in every time I started to think a little too much. It was always there.

I never told that to Luce, though. I was afraid of losing the only few things that were keeping me together.

Luce tried calling me one day from the hospital and obviously received no answer from me. Later when she got back home, she asked me why I had switched off my phone. I made up a lie about my phone charger. She seemed to believe that.

She even seemed to believe that whatever that had happened back in my bathroom that night had just been a one-time thing. I acted like it was, so she believed it. Everyone did eventually. Perhaps that's why I was so good at lying; people believed in my lies way too easily. It helped me avoid a lot of things.

That specific night, however, it seemed like I couldn't avoid them any longer.

When Luce was about to leave for her night shift, she told me to borrow her charger and make sure I called back Mum--she had been trying to call me and was getting worried. I told her that I would, but apparently, she wasn't too keen on believing that one lie of mine.

"No, I'm serious, Lia." She passed me a glare, trying to shrug on her coat at the same time. "I want you to get your phone working again and call Mom."

"What if it doesn't work?" I asked her from the couch, clutching a cushion against my chest. "I don't know how to fix broken things."

She sighed exasperatedly. "You've been cooped up in here since the past few days, Lia. You didn't come here to just stay in my apartment, wasting your days on a freaking couch."

"I'm just...not in the mood to go out," I replied quietly.

She sighed again. "Why, Lia?"

That was a question I've always wanted an answer to. For a lot of things.

"Fine. I'll call her." I said instead, turning my gaze back to the TV. Luce must've probably noticed my avoidance of her question, but I was pretty sure she wouldn't press on it right now. She was already getting late.

"Promise?"

I just nodded, still not looking at her.

When she left, I busied myself with the old TV show reruns. I wasn't really paying attention to anything that came up on the TV, yet I was thankful for this little normalcy in my life. I didn't get up from the couch, not until an hour or so had passed by. Then I went up to my room and opened my nightstand drawer, taking out my phone.

Just call her, I told myself, there's no point in keeping Mum worried.

When I switched it on, I noticed the texts first. Some were from Mum asking me to call her. Some were from Helen, once again asking me to call Mum. Some were from Dad, but knowing him, it was probably from Mason--something he liked to do whenever Dad left his phone on the coffee table.

Some of the older texts were from Alas, and I noticed that there weren't any more of his since the past few days. Maybe he finally got tired--

"Stop it," I whispered to myself, clenching my jaw. "I can't think like that. It's not his fault. I was the one who pushed him away. None of this is his fault." It was all me. I was the one with issues.

Exhaling shakily, I pulled up my contacts and stopped over Mum's. It wouldn't be that hard, I figured, if I talked to her. I just hoped Luce hadn't told her about that whole throwing up incident. Mum got worried over the littlest things and I wouldn't know how to reassure her.

Just as I was about to call Mum, another name flashed on my screen; an incoming call.

It was Maria.

"Hey," I answered slowly, almost a little cautiously.

"Lia, what the hell?" She sounded frustrated. "I tried calling you yesterday. And the day before yesterday. I even tried calling you today. What's up with you?"

I blinked down at the floor.

"My phone broke down." Sometimes, I just couldn't find it in myself to not lie. It was a really bad habit, I knew that, but it made a lot of things so much easier.

"Oh." The frustration in her voice went away. "I was almost about to come by your apartment, you know. I got worried."

It took me a little by surprise to know that she cared. I mean, of course, we were friends. But my friends back at home never cared this much. If I didn't reply to their texts or phone calls, they just left me alone, thinking I needed space.

"It's all right. I'm fine--"

"You know what? Fuck that." Once again, I could hear the exasperation in her voice. "What happened between you two?"

I stared blankly at the wall right in front of my bed, before sitting down.

"Lia?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, Maria."

"I'm talking about Alastair." She still sounded pissed off. "What happened? He was...he was doing just fine, Lia!"

I could've sworn I felt my heartbeat slowing down, a little more than normal.

"Did something happen? Did you...you were the last person I saw with him, and then he started acting strange." Her voice fell down to a whisper. She sounded concerned. "He was starting to act like the normal Alastair I've always known. He was starting to look happier. Himself. And now...something happened."

"What happened?" I heard my voice, quiet and scared.

I heard her inhale sharply. "He's--God, I've never seen him being so reckless, Lia." She said, "He's been drinking again. More than usual. I've been trying to get a hold of him but he just disappears! It's like...it's almost like those few days before he tried to kill himself."

It was getting cold in my room, even when the windows were closed shut.

"I think I should tell his mom. She asked me to tell her if anything like this happens. I should've done that days ago. I can't believe I didn't--" Then she stopped, before speaking again. "Did you two have a fight?"

"No." My voice sounded strange.

"Well then, what happened?"

"Nothing happened." Scared. I was so scared. And not for myself this time. I was scared for him.

I could hear footsteps on her end, almost as if she was pacing in those high-heeled boots of hers.

"Did you do something?" She asked.

I started growing consciously aware of the small lump in my throat.

"I'm sorry." My voice cracked a little. "I-I have to go. I'm sorry."

And then I ended the call. I pushed my phone aside, not even caring when it fell down my bed and onto the floor. I clutched the bedsheets on either side of me, blinking back the tears.

God, I was so pathetic. Why was I like this? Why did I not answer his calls? Where was he? What if he was not fine?

No. No. No.

I dragged my hands up my face, raking them through my hair. I could feel my fingers trembling as I tightened my grip, feeling the pull of it against my scalp.

Please be fine, Alas. Please.

That's exactly when the doorbell rang.

When I rushed towards the front door and opened it, I could only stare in surprise for the first few seconds. Then I found my voice. "Alas?"

If I didn't believe Maria before, I sure as heck did now.

He looked terrible. Dark circles under his eyes. Disheveled hair. Pale face. Even his black buttoned-up shirt, unbuttoned at the top, looked rumpled. He looked utterly messed up.

"Ophelia." He was right there, standing in front of me, yet his eyes had never looked so empty. "Finally. I thought you'd be...you'd be invisible when I come here."

My heart started racing when I heard the obvious slur in his voice. He was drunk, and something told me that it hadn't been just a few shots of tequila like that time in Knightsridge.

"Alas, you aren't supposed to--"

"Be here?" He asked with a slight tilt of his head, grinning tiredly. There was nothing happy about that smile. It was sad, empty, and devoid of everything. "Well, you weren't supposed to ignore my calls either. Looks like we're both bad at going along with the bloody rules."

My throat had gone sandpaper dry. I looked behind him and noticed the elderly lady, who lived beside Mrs. Hutchins, giving me an obvious disapproving look.

"Alas," I whispered, stepping closer towards him. He seemed to eye me warily. "At least...come inside."

"Or what?"

"Please." I stared into his eyes, pleading.

He frowned at that but stepped towards me nonetheless. I managed a small, strained smile before stepping aside and letting him in. I had to grip his arm as I let him follow me inside, not wanting him to stumble into one of those precious urns Luce liked to place all around her apartment.

Once we were inside the lounge, I let go of his arm just so that I could switch off the TV. It was still carelessly playing on whatever movie I had previously lost interest in.

"Have you really been watching movies while I was trying to call you all those times?" Alastair spoke up behind me, sounding confused and sad at the same time.

I couldn't help but grimace a little. I hated how open he got whenever he was drunk, so much so that I could almost pick out the emotions just from his voice alone.

"No, Alas--" When I turned around to face him, I noticed that he wasn't really there. Instead, he was making his way back towards the front door.

"Alas." I gripped onto his arm again, stopping him. He probably would've pulled away, but I think the obvious strain in my voice stopped him from doing so. "Where are you going?"

He didn't reply, just continued staring me down with that same puzzled gaze. And sad, his eyes were sad. It made it hard to look at him. It made it hard to not feel it too; the sadness.

I sighed heavily before pulling him in the opposite direction, towards my room. He seemed to follow me easily this time, only letting his eyes wander across my room's entrance before speaking up.

"Are you trying to seduce me?" He laughed that same humorless laugh. I clenched my jaw and let go of him when we were in my room. "We never really got to cross this one. Pulling each other into our bedrooms."

I shook my head. "Alas, stop."

He didn't really seem to get what I was talking about as his eyes trailed towards my phone which was still on the floor.

"Why were you avoiding me, Ophelia?" He asked, facing me. "You told me you wouldn't. You...you told me that you'll call me. But you didn't."

All of a sudden, it felt like I couldn't stand anymore. It felt like something, this invisible dark force, was pulling me down. I had to slump down on my desk chair, shaking my head again. "I'm sorry."

"But why?" He asked, almost pleading. The quiet desperation in his voice, in his eyes, made it feel like I couldn't breathe. Every bit of this felt so overwhelming. "Why would you do that to me?"

I once again shook my head in response, hoping that he'd stop talking. I couldn't speak. I was afraid I'd start crying if I spoke. I was afraid because this wasn't supposed to happen. He wasn't supposed to be here, looking this messed up just because of me. He was supposed to let it go, he was supposed to let me go.

Wasn't that how everything happened around me? Why was this one so different? I didn't like different.

"I like you, Ophelia. You know that, don't you?" He stepped closer towards me, sounding so broken, wounded. When I looked up at him,