The universe knew how to answer my prayers.

He was the last person I had expected to find. With a great bedlam of instruments and an even chaotic number of chairs that lay in front of my vision, he played the guitar like he was blind to the other things in the room. I kept chanting in my brain—he cannot be related to music, let alone guitar—but then again, I didn't even know his name.

The jealousy which bubbled in my chest, however, was venom at the tip of my tongue. I could've been like that too—happily playing the instrument I tied my sanity to—only if it didn't have copious memories wound into a painful loop. If the prick at the heart once decided to cease, and the incessant nightmares that threaded into my conscious found a way to untangle themselves from this disarray, I could.

Snapping out of my thoughts, I met his once again: iridescent and magnificent and all-too overwhelming. The only thing I could decipher from a good distance was that I had never seen a person with eyes of the ocean. But just because he was a God's favorite didn't mean he could let me throw away my self-respect, so I averted my gaze and stared at the piano itself.

Piano was, indeed, a tough competition to him.

My hands trailed on it when I walked closer, creating a series of random notes which floated into the thin air. Something about the piano was majestic, and it forever remained as an instrument I would've wanted to learn in a heartbeat. The tug of my lips was unconscious and potent when I averted my attention from all the instruments present to the one being played. Finger picking, my thoughts went berserk, downright beautiful.

Enthralling would've been an understatement.

I stared at his head from the back, fiddling with the fiber of the cotton t-shirt that now stuck to me like mulberry paper. "You, uh, play the guitar really well; I didn't think you were into music."

He laughed.

He laughed like I was pulling up a whole stand-up comedy for him. He laughed. "Yeah, and you just met me for the first time today. Surprising, isn't it?"

"Is that how you generally take compliments? Because it's very rude," I was trying—and it seemed like he was just not worth it.

He didn't even bother to speak after that. Fury seethed through my veins and constrained my throat until I was meters away from slamming the door onto his face. Anger due to the heat of the moment was one thing—and being unapologetically rude was another. I tried to ignore the heat of the stare he provided when I had lifted back to my feet, but the arch of his eyebrows told me I had failed.

"What's your name?"

"You don't even know my name?"

The amount of doubt his voice held made me stifle a chuckle. "Was I supposed to?"

"I'm Evan," he breathed, standing up. He was very tall—in a good six feet sense, and I meant it whenever I said it, because I wasn't short in any sense. Five-nine was a good enough height, and basketball was to be credited. His shoulders shook whilst trying to keep the guitar at a side—well-built, taut muscles accenting the shirt he wore. It was hard not to stare, especially when a person this gorgeous was not the kindest.

"Yours?"

At this point, I had forgotten the context the conversation was standing on.

"It's Laura."

I thought he might've been paying attention to my name at the very least, but it seemed as though he was deep into the guitar piece he was trying to play. I huffed loudly, stuffing my hands in my pockets. Not only was he rude over the moon, but he also couldn't converse like a normal human being.

I opened my mouth, only to shut it without uttering a word. Unfortunately, he must've seen—granted how he broke into the coyest of smiles. "You still have something to say, Laura?"

His voice was a mix of undertones, smile akin to poison-rain. I ignored his gaze, bidding him adieu in the form a door slam on his face.

▂

Nothing about High School was appealing—anxiety was forever through the roof, studies and the backlog never seemed to lessen, running on a caffeine addiction gave me daily doses of headache—yet nothing possessed me to stop. Liam's college schedule was a mystery at its finest. With the house all by myself, I played some music in the background before starting to get work done.

This house wasn't anywhere near to the feeling of home the previous one has held. Of course, it took much more than a few tables and chairs thrown together to be called home. All I wished, however, was that this semester eased the forever racing heart. I was done being at the edge of my seat at all instances—as if watching a horror movie with no end.

While chemistry books enveloped my study table like a thick blanket, Stella had already messaged me. This chemistry homework sucks. I feel like I'm losing brain cells every minute.

I laughed. And then: Same, dude. I need coffee. Badly. My phone vibrated on the ebony within five seconds, and I found out that Stella and I had been thinking of the same thing. Coffee. And as soon as I started getting a bunch of excited messages about a cute barista—but mainly caffeine—I grinned and grabbed my phone before bouncing out of my seat.

Before I could leave the house in totality, I called Liam. It rang twice before a groggy voice reached me, and my eyebrows arched dramatically. "Mhm?"

I sat back up. "Nuh-hm. Where the hell are you?"

I could imagine his face scrunching up like it did whenever I yelled at him—hazel eyes pooling together and lips frowning. Dramatics was in the genes, really—he was just the more profound one. "Library. What's up?"

"I am going to grab some coffee with a girl I met today," I said, worrying my lower lip between my teeth for no reason.

"Okay."

"You were supposed to be home before me, bunny boy," I stuck out my tongue at the nickname. It traced back to when he was in eighth grade and I was in fourth, and we were dressed up in onesies almost all the time. Bunny ones—shockingly—were a favorite. His groan was loud and clear through the speaker until shuffling of papers dominated.

"Yeah, but there's a lot of assignments due, so I stayed over. I'll be back in an hour or so. And don't bring that name up, ever again."

I had managed to lock the door whilst also keeping up with him. He had to leave to get the work done as soon as possible, and I was left admiring the flushed evening sky on my own. Thick layer of clouds danced above the endless azure, and the weight off my shoulders evaporated in a jiffy. It wasn't often that I would go through traumatic changes of energy—from being buried up to a literal ray of sunshine—but something in me clicked, and my mouth twitched upwards. This was what I had wanted all along. Past made me a sinner, but couldn't rob me of a future.

I had to succumb to the opportunity given to me on a golden plate, otherwise I'd crave for it off bronzed knives.

When I knew Stella ordered the same coffee as me, the gigantic box of coffee compatibility was ticked and done over with. I didn't know much about her still, but her face belonged on canvases. She was the beautiful and the damned—the art and the artist herself. Her hair was in endless waves, eyes wide at something she saw on the streets.

Stella Reyes was someone you couldn't wrap your head around in a singular meeting. She was someone who made you want to come back to know more, all-before it became an endless cycle of happenings. And whilst she sipped her cold brew with perked interest and unfaltering eye-contact, I knew she was a comrade I was going to come back to in the future.

"And so, I told him: you are a pendejo," she rolled her eyes. "I got a death threat once for rejecting a guy. Being a woman is surely a fun experience."

My eyes widened. "Oh my God. Tell me about it, though."

Perhaps meeting new people wasn't half as bad as I had thought, and Stella Reyes was only the start. Maybe Xavier and Leo were to soon be added to the list—and maybe the indifferences between Evan and I could be erased. Not because I wanted to befriend him (I still didn't appreciate his attitude), but because the people pleasing trait in me screamed for making peace with everyone around me.

Stella told me about the school, annual functions, assignments, term examinations—everything. Surely being the person who could keep the conversation going and interesting at the same time, I didn't for once feel out of place. Some people were great at that feeling to arise. She soon got a call from her mother, making thick creases capture her forehead. I had asked what happened, but all she did was excuse herself to run some errands.

I went home.

The warmth of the living room was inviting, and from inside the kitchen, Liam gave me a salute. I grinned. He was tossing mushrooms in the air whilst One Direction played in the background. The scene was typical—while Liam considered cooking to be therapeutic, playing the band meant he was nostalgic.

"Hey."

I smiled, bright as the day. "Someone's in the feels today, hm?"

"Shut up," he pointed the spatula at me, looking offended. Liam was the worst liar. If he thought I would let the fact slide, he must have been pretty delirious. His eyes crinkled at me when I dropped on the couch, both legs propped upwards. There was tiredness in his eyes, tinged in blue and white. So, I decided to change the conversation.

"I don't know what I'll do without you."

"I am a cook to you," he glared; he was still offended.

I laughed. That was, indeed, true. I couldn't cook. At all. Sometimes it was concerning, and I had tried to learn it, but I still kept failing. Yes, when Liam didn't have much appetite, he would be adventurous and throw me in the kitchen—but the taste of the food was never commented on.

For the best.

"How was the first day?"

I sighed. Funnily enough, in all of its totality it didn't seem half as bad. Anxiety was worse and limbs were jittery, but that was a deal which tied to every new place I had visited. "It was okay, just—"

"What did you do now?"

I winced at his tone. Liam Edwards was not a good company if you weren't on his good side. His eyes were sharp, jaw tilted up high, fingers threaded in his hair. One couldn't hide from him; he was brilliant in reading between the lines.

I drummed my fingers on the table. "Nothing happened, to be honest. But he plays the guitar, so that's a bit disappointing."

All of a sudden, there was a massive change in his smile. Coyness slipped through his syllables like melted poison. "That makes no sense. Also, why so passionate about him?"

I grimaced. "That—that sounds miserably wrong."

There was a clatter and clash of the forks and spoons on the ceramic plates until our laughs partook in the noise. Catching up with Liam was a blessing in its own essence, and even though I could never admit it to him, his quicksilver attention and hazel eyes were comforting beyond words. Somehow, he was doing a great job of not telling me a lot about his college-life, and I was pretty surprised—since he'd told me the weirdest details in high school. Maybe all we needed to do was catch up, since life was fast-forwarding, and places and people were changing so fast.

I finished up and went near the sink to wash my dish. "Did you talk to mom?"

"I didn't—but dad messaged me, saying they're busy with a lot of work."

I felt my eyes diminish. I missed them and hadn't seen them in a good month or so. Dad's food was a surety, but mom's constant bickering was something I didn't know could be missed. "Oh," I looked over to him, "That means they won't be coming over any time soon?"

His eyes softened. "Hey, they'll be back soon enough."

I smiled back. As long as I forced myself to forget how bad of a sinner the past had made me, I hoped I could keep going.

hey! i hope you guys are doing well. here's another chapter, and things are barely getting started. i'm happy to bring back midnight walks—and evan and laura are glad to be back as well. i'm thinking wednesdays and saturdays as update days, what do you guys think? i'd also update randomly if time allows, or do a double update on certain occasions :) you're golden

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