, the makeshift world was crumbling down into dust, bleeding into oblivion. "Laura,"Liam's voice was pleading, eyes lined with concern. "Look at me."

With glossy eyes, my mind replicated the wornness of an old photograph—dismantled and torn, not knowing what to believe. I held my hands tightly clasped together, tears at brink. "I can't. . ." my shoulders felt heavy, t-shirt sticking onto me like a barrier between me and oxygen.

I was no longer bulletproof.

"What am I going to say to her, Liam? She's never going to forgive me."

I continued before he could speak. "How did she get my number? I—I remember not telling anyone about it," I looked him in the eye, "You didn't. . ."

His silence was the answer. I narrowed my eyes at him, tugging at his shirt. "Why?" I groaned. "Wasn't that the sole purpose of me changing my number, Liam?"

He sighed. "I. . .I know. Laura, please understand the situation and look at it from her point of view."

I held my face in my palms. "You don't understand Liam, you never do," I clenched my fists, "I can't, I can't. Not yet. Why don't you let me be?"

He held my shoulders. "Listen to me. She has been your closest friend for sixteen years—are you just going to throw her out of your life like that?" he paused, eyes unsure. "Do you understand what she might be going through too?"

"Can you," I sighed, hands gripping onto each other and eyes glued to the rug I had on the floor. "leave me alone for a while? I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"Take your time," he squeezed my shoulders in a hug, and then gave me a sad smile. I watched him leave, gently closing the door behind him. I had a massive headache, now, and numerous circumstances seemed to enhance it tenfold.

I missed Elizabeth. I missed the comfort of being around someone like her who stuck like superglue, smiled like the warmth of million suns combined, and felt like home. Whilst music played like a soft cacophony of tunes from my phone, my eyes fell astray.

There were only so many times paper hearts could get healed—and their undoing left nothing but scorching venom into the bloodstream.

▂

I ended up staying up wide awake at midnight.

The music seemed to hit different, stars spoke brightly, moonlight shone right through the shallow curtain blinds, and the silence was serene. I couldn't do much when havoc ruled my mind, because destruction was always known to hail. Donned in scorching velvet red and devilish smiles, chaos never summed up to anything good.

Sleep was non-existent at this point, the faint music the only tangible thing in the air. I shut my eyes for a brief second and opened them back up, because I was so terrified—so so terrified of waking up to the endless loops of my past forming a fraction of my new-found reality.

Then, there was a weird thud outside of my window.

A thud, like some sort of a knock. On my window. It remained the only thing which dragged me out of my thoughts, making me jump slightly with tense shoulders. With furrowed eyebrows, I pulled the earphones out, dunk my phone on the bed, and rose slightly.

I tried not to think of the horrific thoughts that came into my head. Intruders, murderers, thieves—it must've been a cat. Or so I hoped. When it got eerily quiet again, I sat back on my bed and proceeded to cover the lower half of my body under the sheets.

Ignore it, and it never happened. Ignore it—and it never happened.

Now I knew why people in horror movies always died.

The sound resumed again, this time louder than before and nearer to my window. My eyes widened, hands immediately going to my phone to emergency dial 911 as the noise amplified. Perhaps this was my end, and it bothered me solely because it seemed less grandiose that I had thought of it to be.

I walked towards my window with a badminton— a fucking badminton—the only sports item I could see around me. Then, I flew the window open. The wind blew with its chilly might, immediately making me grit my teeth. There was no one, much like I had thought. So, I continued shrug and pull the window down, all while keeping my eyes focused outside. This is exactly how disasters spewed, spread and—

A hand.

I saw a hand, which was most certainly not mine, shut my mouth and push me further into my room. My back collided with my wardrobe, making a curse fly out of my mouth. Panic ceased my senses, and this wasn't the time to curse because my eighty-year-old back was hurt. Someone was in my room.

Someone was in my room!

I did what was most plausible: knock the badminton on the intruder's head as many times as humanly possible, all while planning how I was going to let my family know I love them with the limited time in my hand.

"Ouch, okay, Jesus—calm down!"

I swear I saw red as soon as I opened my eyes, badminton still very much in my defense and intruder's smile tripling and tripling and tripling—Evan.

Evan?

"What the fuck are you doing?" I barely breathed, eyebrows raised to another dimension. "Are you out of your goddamn mind? You psycho!"

He pinned both of my wrists down, a soft laugh falling past his lips. "Only you'd have a badminton for self-defense."

I was speechless, and he looked like he had a lot to say. "Oh, and also—stop causing me permanent brain damage. I am already starting to forget what I had for breakfast today."

"Shut the fuck up," I hissed, "Is this why you're here, to humor me at midnight? Because I had a dream that you didn't want to do anything with me—oh wait."

This boy was ridiculous.

"You're talking too loud," he said with a small smile. His hand remained on mine, finger brushing gently over my wrists. "We don't want your family waking up, do we?"

"Stop telling me what to do and what not to do," I said, simply to assert a couple things. But he was right—if Liam found this out, I was pretty much dead. "Do you want me to kick you out myself, or are you leaving?"

"Holy shit, Edwards, you're a little too bossy today, don't you think?"

His eyes were mischievous, moonlight only tiptoeing on one side of his face. I dropped my gaze to my carpet, red tinting on my cheeks. I wondered why I hadn't realized this sooner, but Evan Parker was an enthralling hurricane with no cautions, a conundrum no preparation could unravel. I shook from his grasp regardless, but having a proper look at his face made me lose a good amount of sanity. He had a regular hoodie on, much different from what he wore the last time I saw him at night—and his eyes were bright.

"You are crazy," I muttered, and then repeated myself. "You are insane. What do you think you're doing? How do you know the room on the first floor was mine? I am calling 911."

He sighed. "Hey, look, I know this is not the best way to visit you," he paused, looking over. I glared, as if saying, damn, you think so? "But I had to explain a few things, and you wouldn't talk to me in school."

"If I saw this coming, I would've never ignored you in school."

He nodded, twisting the rings on his fingers. I watched him retreat backwards, steps small and a hand messing through his hair. "Dios, I know, I'm an asshole. And I know this only looks good in movies and books—because even I am creeped out by myself right now."

I couldn't help but grin. "You think so? You might just be the most confused person I've ever met, Evan."

And then, I dropped on the floor.

His eyes widened at my actions, before he raised a perfect eyebrow. I motioned him towards the floor, too, giving him the perfect side-eye.

"I see how I am being treated at your house."

"Suits you perfectly," I said, and then rolled my eyes. "Are you going to say anything, or are we just sitting on the floor for the rest of the night?"

It took me a while to realize that my brother was one floor down, and if he found this out, none of us were making it out alive. What in hell was I even doing?

Since when did I start inviting people to my room's carpeted floor at midnight?

He snapped his fingers in front of me, still sitting several feet apart. "Are you sure you want to stay here?"

"For this being my home, I'd love to," I said dryly. He grinned, and then gave me a sharp look. "Who's trying to be humorous now?"

"I thought you would've said what you wanted to by now."

He grinned, leaned on the wall behind him, and placed both of his hands behind his head. "I would've, but it's kind of a long story."

He can't be serious, I thought, and then got up from where I was sitting. Long stories weren't my bedtime ones. "Leave, then. I have sleep to catch up on."

He didn't miss a beat in standing up and walking right in front of me, eyes glued to mine. "That's not how I planned this, Edwards—and I hate when things don't go as planned."

My steps faltered. "Makes the two of us, and I hope you know your arrogant remarks are not exactly giving you any leverage here."

He only laughed, the siren-like sound burning itself in the back of my head. Taking a couple steps backwards, he extended a hand dramatically. "May I take you out on a small walk?"

I shook my head despite a small smile playing on my lips, making him grin. "Fine," I pursed my lips. "But I have to be back in twenty minutes."

When I dropped my gaze to the badminton in his hands and motioned for him to give it to me, he had lifted his hand up, the sleeve rolling up to his elbow. A little intricate design painted in black ink was what captured my attention, but it was as fleeting as the thought of asking him for another look. My gaze had quickly droned onto his knuckles, which were bruised and slightly bleeding.

"Your hand's bleeding," I blinked, twice. When I looked back up, he was staring at me.

"Oh—right."

I laughed. "Your hand is bleeding, Evan."

He shifted his gaze, cleared his throat, and walked a few steps away from me. "It's practically nothing."

"Wait a minute," I shook my head, raising a hand. "I can bring some antiseptics."

"There's no need, I promise," he said with glossy eyes. "It's nothing, literally."

I stood there, unsure, as he leaned on the windowsill—eyes gleaming and smile infectious. Everything about his aura was magnetic and confusing—pulling me in and throwing me out at the same time. His face belonged to the museums, and I couldn't help deviating a little from the topic every now and then, just because he was too stunning for his own good, a merciless challenge to the moon which could inspire poetry.

"Come on, Laura," he muttered under a hushed breath, dropped his eyes to my legs, and then winked. "We don't have the whole night."

I flushed a deep crimson, narrowing my eyes at him while he drummed his fingers on the ledge, eyes sharp and jaw twisted to face me—all in his glory of absurd situations and pretty-little smiles; an embodiment of wine-drunk stupidity which seemed to run through his veins, all while staying sober.

"Eyes up," I snapped my fingers in his face, eyes pointed.

"Ten points for the duck pajamas, but I suggest you grab a hoodie, Edwards."

hi hello!! i hope you're doing well and that you enjoyed this chapter. finals are driving me insane, but i will try sticking to my saturday updates to my best of capabilities :) let me know what you're thinking of the book so far, your view on the characters and even any predictions! you're golden