making me wince at even the slightest of discomforts. It seemed like I had seen this coming at night, considering how Aspirins lay on my nightstand as soon as I gained consciousness. That was the least of my concerns in the moment alone, though, because I was supposed to go somewhere today—and my cranky mood wasn't easing my mind a fraction—and added to that became the glowing smile that took over my face when I woke up to a song in the background.

It wasn't any other song, clearly. I didn't grin like a fucking idiot to any of them. And maybe grinning so wholeheartedly to a song I had danced to last night, right in the morning, posed a bigger problem than I could imagine.

As if the heavens had listened, I was also in for a lecture from my parents, making me prolong leaving my room. Curfew is curfew, Mom had said, even if you're having fun. Clearly, all my rationales went straight out of the window after a couple shots, and only stumbling steps and words prevailed.

I only remembered bits and pieces of the whole day. It was similar to a flimsy sheet draped over my memory, only slowly starting to unfold—but a part of me wanted it to be glued forever, because I had probably embarrassed myself in front of somebody. And while I brushed my hair, Liam was stood at the door, face stoic.

"Can I come in?"

"No."

He didn't just walk in. He stared at me like I was a lunatic, and then made himself comfortable on my bed.

I groaned. "What do you want so early in the morning?"

'Dad is angry," he bit back, rolling his eyes to the back of his head. "And if you want to let him go easy on you, I'd like for you to throw your tantrums away—especially with me—if you want me to help, of course."

I grit my teeth. He smirked. "I am his favourite, you know."

When he got no satisfactory response, he laughed. "Aw, are you upset? Then don't be out for so late from now on, doing whatever it is that you were doing with a blazer-clad dude at 1 A.M."

All colour drained from my face, eyes resembling saucers. I totally forgot about that. Where did I even keep it?

Nowhere was the answer, since Evan's blazer was sprawled over the chair right at the entrance of my room. My plans were never full proof, and the urge to crawl into a hole overpowered any other. "See, it's not like that."

"Like what, exactly?"

"Quit messing with me, Li."

"Answer me, then. Who's is this?"

"A friend's," I snatched it from his hands, and then rolled my eyes. "You saw what I was wearing. I would've frozen to death if he didn't offer me that."

"Are you going to keep it?"

"I'm returning it today."

"Why?"

"Do you want to keep it, Liam?"

"Geez," he made a face, and then rested his head on the wall behind him. "Driver Boy is your favourite, not mine, Laura."

"He's not—"

"You can keep it, too, I don't mind," he grinned. Clearly. When he got up from where he was seated, I heaved a sigh. "But if something happens, you know where to find me, right? With his address and a baseball bat?"

"What?"

"Safety measures, little sister."

▂

"You should know that we worry about you," Dad was trying to end his concern, but the small, unnecessary details Liam was adding weren't helping at all. To think that I almost bought into his whole act of being helpful for once was beyond shameful on my part.

Only the forces above could be of any help now.

"You're almost eighteen," Mom huffed, and Dad gave her a look which precisely said: you told her to party, you don't have a say—which Mom was quick to ignore. I played with the food on my plate. Why did parents choose to lecture when we were at the dining table? "You should be at least responsible enough to give us another medium to contact you."

Of course, I knew what to do. So, I kept my mouth shut. Any word leaving my mouth could have ghastly effects, and I wasn't trying to spend the rest of the day getting scolded as well. Mom noticed my eyes on the floor, and for a second I thought she was going to stop.

She didn't. "Elizabeth's case was different, Laura."

Air got stuck in my throat. Why did she have to bring her up? It drew no parallels whatsoever, and did nothing to ease my ever on-the-edge heart—and now it felt like it had plummeted down to rock bottom, far, far below the surface. It always did when the past was brought up, last summer turning from something idyllic into something tainted in scarlet. "I knew her too well. She was a very nice kid. But now that we're here, I know none of your friends. Although I know you are still in good company like you always have been, I need some assurance."

Knew. Was. Had I turned into past tense for her too?

"I don't want to lecture you," Dad added, and then contradicted himself by going with the lecture. "And I trust you completely. You know that. Just be safe and enjoy, because it's more fun that way."

"I'm sorry," was all I could utter, clammy hands sitting atop my thighs. "I'll give you my friend's number—her name Stella."

"It's okay, it's okay," Dad grinned, patting my head. "Just know that I trust you way more than I can ever trust Liam, kiddo."

Liam coughed. I couldn't help but laugh. "So much for being Dad's favourite."

▂

The Coffee Business was located approximately two streets ahead of my own, a compact café brimming with energy. Despite it being crowded with a decent amount of people, the scent of caffeine relaxed my shoulders and made me smile. After all, if I'd thought I wanted a job, I'd get it. And here I was.

This was probably the most impulsive I had been in a while, and so far, I had zero regrets.

Beige and dark colour themed boards and bulletins adorned the walls, accompanied with quotes engraved on them and fairy lights dangling at the sides. I tried looking for a woman named Sophia as Liam had told me to, and when I accidently ended up at the counter, a bright smile latched onto a pretty face greeted me.

"Hey! What can I get for you?"

It took me too long to realize I was delaying other people's orders, and the tips of my ears went red. "I'm sorry, uh, I heard you're hiring?"

While she stared at me, I had excused myself from the line. "Oh! Please give me a second, I'll guide you in a bit."

I only waited for about five minutes, gaze perched on the people who entered or exited the place I was soon going to be working at. Hopefully. The same girl had walked towards me again, demure smile stitched on her lips. "Hey! I'm Maya, it's nice to meet you."

Her energy made me break a grin as well. "You have a lovely name. I'm Laura, it's nice to meet you, too."

"Thanks! So," she tucked a wisp of her hair behind her ear and walked further, hinting me to follow. "Do you have any experience of working in a café sort of place?"

I chuckled slightly out of awkwardness, "Uh, not really—but I've been told that I'm a quick learner."

"I'll have you speak to Sophia, then," she bumbled all the way across, and I had to sprint to catch up. We entered into a room where food ingredients were stacked on shelves, and a mid-aged woman calculated something on a piece of paper. "Sophia," Maya called, voice soft. "Please have a talk with her."

Sophia had a perplexed look on her face, eyebrows knitted in confusion. There was a slight crease on her forehead which disappeared whilst Maya told her everything she needed to know about me being present, and the lips drawn into a straight line swapped with a hearty smile in two heartbeats. "Laura."

I smiled when she addressed me. "What time is the most suitable for you?"

"Any time would be suitable in the second half of the day, Miss Sophia, but I do have school, so I was especially preferring weekends."

"Of course, dear, you can definitely fill up our weekend's mornings, or evenings—wherever staff would be needed," she paused, eyes bright, and then smiled politely. I was grateful that I was going to be working under her, because she seemed no less of an angel. "You can come visit us one day to see how everything works. I hope you won't have a problem with that. And just call me Sophia from now on."

"You are very kind, thank you," I nodded my head and waved an arm, "Looking forward to coming here again, Sophia."

With a last thank you and a cup of coffee in my hands, I was on my way back home. Liam was off to his library shift while Mom and Dad went out for a walk, so I proceeded to complete the remaining part of Nomenclature I had been studying the night before.

My gaze fell on to the blazer more times than I would've liked to admit. I should've returned it yesterday itself, because I was never going to wear it again. Why would I, anyway?

More importantly, why did I almost not want to give it back? It wasn't mine, nor did it hold any significance. All it managed to do was smell decent, which was also withering away, slowly but surely. Why was I having such a long debate over his blazer, again?

Before I could slam my notebooks shut and plop myself on bed, a wave of messages started spewing out of my phone. Mindlessly, I grabbed the phone to be met with a bunch of messages from Xavier, and couldn't help but laugh. At first glance, it seemed like he had just sent a bunch of memes in a row—but that only ever happened in the group.

I tapped on the screen. Twice. His message read: Hey.

Next to that was an address, with five calls I hadn't picked. What was going on? I jumped out of bed to call him, but he beat me to it. "Laura," his voice was too panicked to even be considered his, syllables slow poison. I laughed in nervousness. "Jesus, Xav, what—"

"You need to come. . .Evan's—he's been in an accident."

...i promise everyone's alive. (i'msorrydon'thurtme)

you're golden and ily. thank you for reading.