AS IF YESTERDAY WASN'T ENOUGH, I HAD WOKEN UP TO THE FEELING OF THE ITALICIZED OH NO SETTLING DEEP INTO MY BONES AND SOMEWHERE FARTHER BENEATH. Copious amounts of head shakes and terrible monologues had nothing on the realization sitting in the middle of my chest, wrecked in the prettiest shades of glittering Jupiter and all its moons combined.

It burned like a bright, livid thing, rising up to the horizon.

And it felt precisely like all of the heavens conspiring against me, because despite the ruckus in my heart, I was supposed to be at school in less than an hour. Rest wasn't an option since I always chose to overthink when things didn't go my way, and the tired blueness in my eyes upon staring at my reflection just solidified my case.

The thought of facing him was an awful idea. Aberrant, horrendous, appalling—and yet, my heart seized in an emotion all-too opposite. While my mind chanted hell no, over, and over, my heart almost rejoiced.

My most vital organ was a fucking traitor.

So I did what I was best at: ignoring my feelings and every responsibility that came with it. Examinations were in less than a month anyway, and overwhelming myself with truckloads of syllabus was a far better idea, one I would readily agree to over whatever this was.

I did know better, yes. I knew running away meant more harm than good, and ignoring the massive attraction I felt towards him could only let the feeling ten-fold and become something way out of my grasp.

But I was a certified dumbass for a reason—and I'd never listen to my voice of reason when I could achieve a fleeting moment of peace, even if it meant welcoming a raging storm sometime later.

▂

It had rained some more by the time I reached school, and coach finally decided that making us run on the open ground as a warm-up when the sky was pouring down wasn't as good of an idea in practice as it seemed in theory. Corridors hummed with the usual chatter when we were dismissed, and by the time I was in English, one thing was painfully obvious. Evan wasn't here.

And he wasn't there during practice, either, so this wasn't him just missing classes. He'd told me once how he would not show up to certain classes if he'd completed the course portion being taught beforehand. Once, I had found him in the school library, engrossed in a heavy book of Psychology—a subject he seemed to show interest in. Another time, I stumbled upon him helping someone with Calculus despite not having Math as one of his subjects.

I had asked him how he was so good at it despite being an English student, and his reply was so nonchalant that it made me angry. I've always liked math, but I couldn't take up so many subjects at once.

How in hell could a singular person do so much? My daily breakdown over Physics seemed pathetic now.

More importantly, he was absent from school after messaging me that he hoped I would be present today. My mind and my heart weren't even on the same page, and it felt like I was having a strong conflict of interest within myself—something Xavier, seated right behind me, took a close notice at.

I didn't have time to think about him and whether I appreciated his absence or hated him for it. Xavier had snapped his fingers in front of my face for the third time in row before I realized how badly I was spaced out, and my head turned in a rush.

"Earth to Laura," he whispered quietly as our teacher's lecture recital played in the background. "You've been spaced out for the majority of the class. Missing something?"

I rose an eyebrow. He grinned. "Or perhaps, someone?"

I knew this was coming. "No, thank you for asking."

"Come on," he called out again. "You know you can ask."

Chloe's words and my own suspicions started proving correct. The closer we got to the guys, the more we saw how big of a menace to society they truly were. "I've got no idea what you're talking about."

"Playing dumb, are we?"

"I don't know if you know this, but I knocked a guy unconscious for a whole day. Once."

He laughed. "Do these threats work on Evan?"

The mention of his name was enough, my head snapping forward in a flash. I could picture Xavier's mouth half-twitched, gaze spirited. "Too bad you don't care enough to ask about his whereabouts—"

"Excuse me, Sir! Xavier over here has a delightful insight to add. Why don't we hear him out?"

The insight proved to be more than delightful, a bundle of nervous words and several silver glares aimed right at me whilst I held back laughter.

▂

Next day was arguably worse. It hadn't rained, but the atmosphere remained riddled with dark clouds, making the air warm and uncomfortable. Evan wasn't here. Not at practices, and neither with us at any point of time. We didn't have English today, so finding him there was impossible.

I tried not to let disappointment show in my face because of his absence. It wasn't something monumental, I tried to remind myself. I had seen enough of him in the past couple days, including the visit to his house. Even when seeing him was a recipe for disaster in itself, discontent spread all across, tightening around my throat.

Xavier's eyes flicked over to mine more often than usual, and I was left wondering what his deal was. Yes, I wanted to ask him about that idiot's whereabouts—but I wouldn't dare utter a word in regard to him when his best friend talked less and smirked more.

Two days. It had been two stupid days and I was this bothered by the absence of someone I saw daily until this week. There wasn't a cell in my body not absolutely repulsed by the thought of letting him know that, or the thought of agreeing to the fact which lay intact and firm.

He hadn't left a single message after the text that day, and all I could reckon was that if he didn't have anything to say, neither did I.

▂

"Since all of you are incompetent fools, I'm giving you this whole month. By this month's end and the start of your examination, you have to submit the project, at the very least."

Mr. Quinn's face replicated the look on any of the student's face during the second English period on a Thursday. While I stayed alert on the instructions and made a mental note to let my project partner—who could very much have forgotten about my existence—know, voices thrummed with the usual furniture noises floating in the air.

He hadn't been present yesterday. He wasn't here today.

Stella met me right outside class, hair thrown up in a mess of a bun, lips quirked. Her bag was barely hanging down her shoulder, in her hands a pair of shoes. It was clear that she just got done with her dance practice, and even though exhaustion sat on her face, her eyes were wide and glowing. "I'm so ready to go home."

"Don't get too excited, it's not Friday yet," I commented. "Want to grab something to eat in the evening? Ask Chloe if you're up for it."

She grinned. "Of course I am. Tacos, please. We had pizza because of you last time."

"We're having tacos?" Leo had walked right into the conversation without either of us knowing. "Can I invite myself?"

"Nope," Stella stuck a tongue out. "It's just us girls."

"You guys do that thing way too often," Xavier sighed. No one saw him walk right in, either. "Remind me why we don't, Leo?"

"Because none of you assholes ever want to pay."

▂

Friday wasn't supposed to start this way.

The second my eyes opened, I was graced with a mighty headache. I was on my period, too, which was just perfect—and while I tried to get up and going to get ready for school, my body revolted, as if it had grown a mind for itself. My limbs had never felt this heavy to lift in my whole life. If that wasn't enough, my eyes felt strained and eyelids drooped low, as if they had no intentions of wanting to stay awake. It took a singular glance at my reflection in the mirror, and I knew there was no way I was going through today like any other day.

Liam told me I'd be cooking for the rest of the month if I dared to go to school in this state, so I didn't put up a fight. I was scared I'd miss important discussions in my science lectures, but knew I could count on Stella for all the notes. Trying to understand Surface Chemistry in the state my body had entered into sounded like a nightmare I would much rather avoid, anyway.

But there remained a problem, one I didn't bother addressing even when I should've. Mom and dad had left for my Aunt's place for staying over the weekend, and Liam had gone to college, after which he had to directly go for work. I didn't need medicine. Yet. And I tried to believe I wouldn't need it for the rest of the day, either, letting Liam know the same.

It was a grave mistake to believe so much in my own body when I had been pushing it to its limit.

Because as soon as midday hit, the pounding headache hadn't alleviated a fraction and probably become worse. I had been asleep, yet exhaustion was rooted deep into my senses, weighing me down as if I hadn't rested a wink. I didn't have any medicine with me. None at all. And in this dire state, I was sure that taking a trip to go get some was not an option.

School was over, I was sure. Time read: 4:08 P.M., and even the dimmed screen of my phone was hard to focus on. Panic filled my veins even more so when I realized I couldn't call Liam or mom for help, and my phone shook out of my grasp. Stella had her dance classes on Wednesdays and Fridays. I didn't want to trouble Chloe. With an additional stomachache, every part of my body was squashing under mountain-like burden of discomfort.

I wondered if Evan had been at school today.

The thought of him was enough for me to groan and bury my face deep under the sheets. It had been five days since I had seen him or even heard from him, and I was done pretending I didn't miss him. I wanted to text him—call him, so I could hear his voice at the very least.

I could call him.

I could call him and just ask him where he has been. It doesn't have to be a long call. I'll just ask him how and where he's been, and I have to tell him about the project. . .

No. It was the fever, I suppose, making me into a bigger dumbass than I already was. He had not left a single message. If he did want to talk, he would've texted something. Anything.

But wasn't it my fault, too, not reaching out at all? He could've been busy. He had always been busy, yet he managed to make the time for me. For us all.

Sometimes when I felt like I didn't know him at all, moments like these just proved the feeling true. Because his whole being, his existence, was hot and cold—like quicksilver slipping out of grasp the second it landed amidst palm lines. When he was near, his presence held the brightness of the sun. When he was away, arctic coldness collected in the spaces between muscles and bones, numbing and freezing.

And despite not being in the right headspace to be thinking so hard and so fast about a person destined to drive me insane, my impulsiveness got the best of me and made me do a thing all-too treacherous.

Because I was muttering fuck it and calling him up.

Because he had picked up in a heartbeat, and my mouth had run dry.

There was shuffling in the background, noises too overpowering. Heat crawled to my chest, shoulders, and all the way up to my face and ears until I had started resembling the Stop Sign on the streets. Maybe that was what I needed. Someone to stop me. Someone to knock some sense—

"Laura?"

The shuffling increased. "Hello?"

And I couldn't. Couldn't. There was not one word I could conjure up which would sum up an apology in twenty-seconds at most, for calling him up and being so ridiculous about it, possibly and most definitely interrupting him in the middle of something important.

I hung up.

I can't believe I hung up after saying nothing. I had called him in the first place.

Before I could walk into the black hole and drop off the face of earth, my phone vibrated. The screen glowed, Evan's name displayed on the top, and my heart sunk to my feet. Don't be an idiot. Pick up, you coward.

"Hello?" his voice was still bleak in contrast to his environment. "Laura? You there?"

"Hey," I managed to croak out. "Yeah. I'm here."

"You hung up."

The desire to disappear completely came back, stronger than ever. ". . .You hung up."

"Really funny," he said, tone sharp. "You okay?"

The heat on my cheeks was just there, growing more apparent and absurd each passing second. "Ye—yeah, I'm sorry. You sound busy, so I'll call sometime later."

"Wait," the shuffling was prominent again, and my first thought was that he was on the move. I tried to picture where he could be or what he was doing, but couldn't. "I'm not busy, and it doesn't matter. You don't sound well. Are you sure you're okay?"

I laughed. It sounded more like a choking sound, and he caught on well. "I'm okay! I'm sorry for—"

"I don't appreciate being lied to," his voice was stern, shunning me entirely. "And stop apologizing. Tell me what's wrong."

There was no way out of this. Why in the world did I bother to call him in such a state, knowing he would figure out? "Evan, I promise—"

"I'm coming over."

I swear my heart malfunctioned, because what? "I'm coming over since you're not okay and refuse to tell me what's wrong."

"Okay, hold up, please," I whined, slumping my shoulders. "I'm. . .I'm not doing the best. Probably have a fever, but it's nothing major. I just don't have any medicine with me and no one's home. . ."

He stopped me before I could continue. "Okay. I'll bring some over. You need something else?"

"You really don't need to do all—"

He interrupted me again. "Have you had lunch?"

I hate you, I hate you, I hate you. "...I don't have much of an appetite."

I wondered if he had even listened, because the line went silent, and the knots in my stomach grew. Many seconds must've passed, but I was too tired to count. He hummed, a sound filling my ear wholly. "Be there in twenty-five, okay?"

I don't think he's at home. It took me ten minutes at most to reach his house on foot. Of course, he hadn't planned on visiting me beforehand, and he was going buy medicine on the way. God, what was I doing? There was still time to stop him from doing whatever he was planning to do. "Evan, listen."

Surprisingly enough, I got his attention. Now, I just needed to stop him before he actually showed up. "See, I'll be alright, don't—"

"If I see you are anything short of alright," he spoke firmly. Strictly. I hadn't ever seen him use a tone this authoritative. "God knows what I'll do."

I let the phone fall to my stomach. Twenty-five. Four. Three. I was in no shape to be facing him after so long, looking the way I was looking. And I didn't do anything to stop the impeding disaster. I couldn't even stand up without wanting to fall to the ground, and I'd told him I was alright.

If my headache wasn't enough to explode my head, I was sure this would do the trick.

Still, I did my best. Untangled my hair which looked like a bird's nest. Tidied my room a little, only to sit down immediately as the walls started spinning. This was perhaps the biggest of misfortune, all of which I made up. I was going to take the medicine and send him away. Mom would be pissed at the way I dealt with a guest, but there wasn't an option B in this problem I had run into.

When the bell rang, I understood that I had never lived such a short twenty-minute span in my whole life. I couldn't possibly be ready to face him in this state. Taking a deep breath, I managed to exit my room, only to catch a breath as if I were climbing up a mountain. If only the universe was on my side. If only. What were my guardian angel's thought on this havoc?

None of it mattered, again. Because nothing could've prepared me for the sight in front of me by the time I made it downstairs.

Evan was leaned onto the door frame, intense eyes falling to every bit of me and mouth twisted in a horrible, horrible scowl.

"Five days' wait," his eyes met mine, and I knew I was done for. "To finally see you thriving."

• • •

author's note

her guardian angel gave up a long time ago but are we surprised

he's finally here and ready to be a simp!! let me know your thoughts on this one, and thank you for reading!

you're golden x