the steps for forgetting something were tedious and all-too planned.They included things like making a wise decision of letting go, expressing your pain, putting a stop on being the victim, and most of all, focusing on the present. It was simply comical, the way it seemed as though the task was sunshine and rainbows—jotted down on a sheet of paper like everything could be as tangible as it seemed.

The internet did give the worst advice.

If there were to ever be a book written about me, three things were crystal clear: I over thought about overthinking itself—an art completely jobless people only succumbed to; my people pleasing trait sometimes made me throw my self-respect out of the window; and my anxiety either tied back to binge eating on sugary food, or losing all appetite.

There were debates and internal battles forever going on in my head—like a plague with no end and only destruction of peace. Six months ago, the bedlam was quiet, not roaring like the mighty sea. But with the incident and horrific happenings, the ocean drowned me with vigour until all I had gotten accustomed to was consuming bulks of water in place of air. A part of me was drowning to a point that revival was not possible, and the past trapped me like a four-walled coal room filled with nothing but poison. But something in my brain told me to not stop fighting—even when I had never learnt how to swim.

And so, I didn't.

▂

The atmosphere was delightful.

The air was damp, with the scent of petrichor lining the air due to the rain that poured throughout the evening. Rain could keep me going—almost like a sort of glue, filling in and keeping the cracks together until the makeshift solution broke down. I tried not to focus on the future but rather the present when I strolled through the streets at night, and the temporary happiness spread through my chest like a growing forest-fire.

The nature was wondrous, tempestuous, and mercurial. It withheld as much power to save a dying flower from its doom, and yet could destroy it during the brightest of its days. There was incessant thunder and storm lined up in the sky when it smiled pearly rays of the sun, and maybe that was what humans were made of, too: violent scarlet in the veins, head in clouds and grins on their cursed mouths.

It is what makes them human.

And while the thoughts had lasted and made me saunter right back to the City Park, I was not alone.

I had mixed feelings about this meet-up.

He was already turned around, eyes round and grin plastered. Evan looked different—seemed different—in the glow of moonlight, and maybe it was because of my sleep deprivation, or simply because it accented his already charming features.

"I've been expecting you, midnight buddy."

I rolled my eyes, even though the sentence sounded very dirty. "How dramatic of you."

He bowed. Curls captured his forehead, but he was too busy speaking to care. "I figured since we'll always be meeting in unexpected circumstances, we would rather talk decently than spend our time cribbing about each other."

Hm, I thought, weren't we already over that? Instead of saying exactly that, I covered my chest with my arms and quietly sat on the swing closest to me. His eyes were still fixated, and lips pursed—as if he was trying to solve a riddle.

"Are you stalking me?"

I scoffed. "Who in the right mind would stalk you?"

Anybody would. I was only partially joking, however, since his accusation meant a lot to me. He just chuckled lightly, the siren like sound dissociating in the air. If there were a list of people the universe took its sweet time on, Evan Parker would be at the top.

"That one just went through my heart," he faked pain, eyes shimmering with brightness. When I furrowed my eyebrows and rolled my eyes, his hands were on his heart. Again. If there was anyone who could challenge him in his own game (which was being dramatic as hell), Liam was the only one that came to mind.

"What brings you here?"

That was not a question I was expecting—I was expecting no questions at all—since there was no reason as to why he would have liked to know about me, in any sense. And so, I saw Evan observe me still at that. His poise was the same, reeking dignity, but eyes miraculously softened.

"Uh, the weather, I guess."

It was lame, but it was something.

He nodded, face hooded and features darkened. There ran a small scar right below his ear, which was only visible because I was standing too close, too close for my personal comfort—and it was my cue to take three gigantic steps back. He didn't notice, with eyes propelled on the other side of the road, and maybe even the sky. But his face was tilted and nose perched, hands folded and entwined, and he seemed so, so at peace, that my eyes couldn't drop to the ground.

"What?"

I flicked my gaze to the cobblestones near my feet, crimson tinting my cheeks. "I wanted to apologize for my behavior on my first day."

By the time our eyes could meet, his body had turned all the way to face mine. Shock seized his features, and the furrow of his eyebrow was comical. "What?"

I gulped. "I am sorry if I offended you, I tend to overreact—"

His mere exhale cut through my sentence like a piece of hot iron. And then: "Hey, Edwards?"

He knows my last name. Fire raced through my chest as I tried to think of reasons how—he must have read it off my binder in English. It was the only probable answer. Was it going to stick? "Yeah?"

He sighed. "Why the hell are you apologizing?"

My breathing faltered. I hadn't expected that, either. Maybe Evan Parker came in shocks and displeasures, since the feeling of his eyes so intently on mine was chewing my sanity away. "Because I am sure I must've upset you, and. . ."

"Do you do this often?"

I toyed with the strings of my hoodie. "Do I do what often?"

He shook his head. "Just because I didn't have my shit together that day doesn't mean you have to apologize," he breathed, and then smiled. "Don't sell yourself short."

Just because a guy says that to you doesn't mean you will start crying in the middle of a deserted park, I chanted in my head at least three times before I could nod at him. "Yea—yeah. Okay."

And then, he resumed his infamous laugh, head falling backwards and eyes crinkling to a point it seemed like he had closed them—and the warmth surging through my body was foreign at its peak: uneasy and feral.

He was easily the biggest paradox of a person I had ever met, and it only made me more curious.

Time was running out for the beauty sleep I had planned, and when Evan saw me fish out my phone to sigh, his grin twisted into a thin line. "You apologize pointlessly, don't you?"

My heart tripled while he stood like that, completely unfazed—as if he hadn't just decoded one of my biggest downfalls. He is too smart for his own good, my brain figured. When he extended a hand for me to shake it, I extended mine unsurely. His were warm and calloused, too big when compared to mine.

I didn't answer.

Then, he flashed me a signature boyish grin. "Don't worry, we'll fix it."

▂

For the first time in forever, the weight on my heart was eased when I talked away to a completely new company. There was no bullet ricocheting through the heart, and no clammy sweat forming on my limbs. It was the smiles and the chuckles, the pointless argument and banter which filled the environment instead. It felt strange being at peace after so long. I felt happy.

I felt like creating memories and reminiscing them.

"Oh, it's on," Raymond pointed at Xavier, whilst the latter unapologetically rolled his eyes. It seemed like ninety percent of our conversations were Leo whining and Xavier rolling his eyes to another dimension. As if on cue, Leo held his stomach and groaned—all while signaling at his food.

"The cafeteria food is crap; I can't handle this," he muttered in disgust, wiping his mouth with his palm. There were nods and yeah's from almost everyone, and all of this conversation was happening on two different tables. I had to agree, because the food barely tasted of anything. But with the lost appetite, I couldn't really tell.

Some things hit harder when you chose to forget about them.

Stella nudged my arm, breaking me out of my trace as Chloe offered me some fries—as if I hadn't managed to gulp them down my throat seconds ago. They seemed a bit concerned, but the lack of familiarity amidst us forced none of us to say anything. From the corner of my eyes, Evan shook his head multiple times while talking on the phone. I wasn't supposed to be staring or thinking about what sort of call he might be on—but my mind was a wanderer, and eyes forever held captive.

He caught my gaze in a heartbeat. Discomfort laced my shoulders, and his face stilled in confusion. Then, he raised his eyebrows, an evil grin on his face.

I could only roll my eyes.

▂

The next few classes rolled about in the same monotone - Calculus, English and Biology, until school did the glorifying deal of ending for the day, and saying I was exhausted would have been an understatement. A weird throb resonated on my forehead, and palms grew sticky. The weather wasn't humid at all, and it just made me panic even more. God, was I dying?

I tried to shove my thoughts deep within and strolled right out of the campus with jittery limbs and questionable breathing. A familiar figure, I spotted, walked briskly in front—all in his glory of tallness and messy brown hair—and the genius in me speed-walked until I was right beside him with a grin on my face.

"He. . .Hey."

He wasn't expecting anyone, especially not me. And it showed in the creases on his forehead and the slight purse on his lips. Attired in a casual hoodie and a pair of black jeans, he still managed to distract me while I was having difficulty in breathing. "You?"

Oh, the infamous 'you's' were back. I laughed breathlessly, making my head throb further for no reason. "I saw you and thought I'd catch up," I held my breath, what am I even saying? "looks like I really shouldn't have had a run right now."

He looked concerned. "You look pale. . . are you sure you're alright?"

I wanted to roll my eyes and tell him: I am pale; but I had started to feel more lightheaded every passing second. Maybe I was, indeed, dying. "I'm okay!"

He shook his head. Even with a throbbing headache and the world slipping beneath my feet, he looked straight out of a magazine photoshoot. Unfair. "You sure as hell don't look okay. How am I supposed to believe you? You need to go home. How are you going home?"

I chuckled. He was rambling. "I'm fine, really," I dragged my syllables; I don't think I am, but my pride says so, "I was planning on walking home, but I think I'll have to take the bus."

He shook his head, half twitch of his lips telling me he was disappointed. "No, you're coming with me."

"I'll be fine, trust me."

He scoffed. His eyes looked lighter, almost baby blue in the sunlight—but a sort of grayness penetrated; always. "I don't quite like the picture of you laying on the school grounds till tomorrow."

I sighed. He motioned towards me, slowly following my trail. He stood at a respectable distance, hands to himself—making me smile wide. "You need help?"

I shook my head. The blurry trees started becoming clearer, and the ground slipping beneath my feet stopped once I closed my eyes for a couple seconds and stared at my shoes. All this while, Evan had stopped walking, peering over patiently. "You aren't going to throw up, are you?"

I rolled my eyes. "No, I am just dehydrated."

"Because if you plan to do any such thing, you'd rather walk—"

"Excuse me?"

He raised his hands in defense. "You can't vomit in my baby."

I was about to roll my eyes, glare at him and make a snarky remark, but the shining black beauty—a Mercedes Benz—in front of me made me stop short.

Despite not knowing about cars enough, it remained a sight for the sore eyes. I had also expected nothing else from him.

He ran a hand through his hair, mouth turning upwards in a goofy grin. I shook my head and walked forward, but he beat me to opening the door. The seat smelled distinctly like him, and the interior was all too overwhelming—posh, extravagant and gorgeous. I hadn't even noticed when Evan had entered the driver's seat and started talking, and when I looked over, his eyes narrowed in accusation.

"Are you going to puke, Edwards?"

It was going to stick. I groaned, and then slapped his arm lightly. "No!"

"Okay," he placed his hands on the steering. "Address?"

"Am I risking my life by sharing my location to you?"

He whistled, utterly amused. Curls were pushed behind his ears, and knuckles turned slightly white from the grip. "Probably."

"You're an ass."

"That's not a very kind thing to say to someone who's dropping you home, don't you think?"

I shot him a glare he ignored, and grabbed a bottle of water before telling him the directions. Soft music played through his speakers, and I wondered if I knew any songs. It took me a while to notice it wasn't English at all—rather Spanish songs he was drumming his fingers to, and I chose to slump further in my seat and inhale deeply.

His face was titled, not once turning to my side; it seemed like he was too deep into thoughts: the kind which kept you hostage for days to come and go by. The kind nightmares were made of. It was the constant clenching of the steering, furrow of eyebrows at the road, and the occasional swift, steely turns. I knew them too well.

"Can you stop staring at me?"

I dropped my gaze. He was bipolar at its finest, grinning seconds ago and a walking hellfire the next. "Sorry, you just seemed a little troubled."

By the time he looked back at me, my house was right in front of my eyes. I waited patiently on my seat, wondering if I had ended up saying or doing something wrong. I always did. He averted his gaze back to the trees.

I tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear. "Thanks, um, for dropping me home."

He still looked disturbed, a wave of silver tiredness washing over his visage. "Don't worry about it," he began, and then visibly cut himself short. "I. . .I'll see you."

He didn't give me much time before he was speeding out of my lane.

• • •

thank for you taking out the time to read this, i appreciate it more than anything. i hope you're doing well, and that you liked this chapter. hit the star if you did, and comment your thoughts on evan and laura till now. you're golden.