The dread that filled my chest like venom was nothing compared to the glare he was passing me, and—God, I needed to focus—because he was here, right in front, and I wanted to be anywhere but with him. Right now, Evan Parker was excluding the warmth of a million suns and a gaze which could cut me into two, and he was so hot and so cold that I did not dare take one step closer.

And he was dressed up. Attired like a model in those classy business ads with his stupid half-tucked shirt and stupid black trousers, sleeves rolled up to the elbows, rings, a silver chain over the expanse of tan skin exposed due to the top three unbuttoned buttons, hair disheveled and messy and so beyond attractive that I didn't know where to look at. Looking anywhere felt illegal. Too appealing. Wrong.

Why couldn't he have been a little normal looking, so I wouldn't lose it every time I glanced at him?

"Yeah," he muttered after several seconds, eyes still displeased. "Who knows how many people broke in before me. Want to find out by checking what all has gone missing so far?"

My head still pounded, and I realized that I wasn't exactly in the state to be bickering with him—no matter how much he would've liked that. He comprehended the situation and walked right towards me, eyes softening. "Hey. You shouldn't stand up if you can't."

And I really couldn't, because the world had started spinning and my head felt like it would split open into two, and I didn't know what to do as my knees started buckling, giving in to the swaying ground.

Evan's arm snaked around my waist. Another grabbed my hand, holding me in place. "Jesus," he whispered, and the urge to look at him overpowered any other. I couldn't, though. My face was pressed to his chest, eyes shut. "This is what you call alright?"

I can't deal with your presence right now, I thought and thought, the screws and bolts twisting and turning in my head in attempts to rationalize, to make sense of this inane situation. His hands were cold where they lay, right above the band of my sweatpants—separated from my burning skin by what now felt like the thinnest layer of cotton.

The fire my body had set itself on ten folded.

"Thank you for bringing me the medicine," I tried to divert my own attention. "But I'll be okay, so you don't need to worry about me. I'm sor—"

His grip tightened. "I don't accept the thanks. Should I carry you to bed?"

I wanted to push him away. Having him this close was a problem far mightier than any other, and I knew it—I knew it incredibly well, yet my heart yearned for the warmth, for the comfort I'd been greeted with the day I fell into his arms for the first time. Letting go was the last thing I wanted to do.

"Hey," he tapped on my shoulder. "Did you fall asleep? Want me to carry you?"

Heat rushed to my cheeks. "I can walk fine by myself!"

Let go of me, I thought but didn't add. I'm unworthy of this.

"Right," he grunted, as if he had heard my thoughts. His knees brushed mine for a trice, and the ground started reeling beneath my feet, walls tumbling sideways in my periphery. We weren't on the floor anymore, I realized—and his hand was squeezing mine. "I'll say this once: I'll stick annoyingly close to you until you feel better, so stop trying to make me leave."

When I didn't react, he looked me in the eye. "I'm not letting go, Laura."

I stared at him for a little longer. There wasn't a way out of this no matter how hard I looked, because the boy stood in front of me wouldn't have been himself without his resolve of steel and that look in his eyes. My chest convulsed with conflict as we made it past the stairs, but just before I could enter my room, I turned to face him with tangled words. "I'm sorry for causing trouble and. . ."

He leaned in, and all words dissolved at the tip of my tongue. The space between us melted wholly until his mouth was on one side of my face—an action unfolding so, so fast, that every cell in my body was forced to halt. "I told you to stop apologizing, didn't I?"

His breath was hot. "Do you ever listen to me?"

"Sorry," I said again. My heart was hammering so loud, I could barely even hear myself. "Not. Not sorry."

Then, finally, his face relaxed. He retreated. Lips twisting upwards into a grin, he had laughed, and I had never felt so much joy in someone's smile than in that moment, mind finally coming to peace. He motioned towards the room and I walked right in, heart barely making it out unscathed.

He grabbed the chair attached to my study table and propped it in front of the bed, taking a seat. I sat on my bed, but I was way too embarrassed to do anything.

"Have the medicine."

I did as I was told, chugging water down with the pill. His eyes were fixed solely on me, gaze so binding that humiliation engulfed my sanity. "Can you not stare at me like that?"

Immediately, he dropped his gaze to the floor, clearing his throat. I averted my gaze. Pitiable—that's what I was. What this was.

"You're so impossibly hard to deal with," he had said, and despite words being callous, on his lips played a soft smile. "You know that?"

I was about to say the s-word, but held back. Amusement rested on the twitch of his lips and the tilt of his brow, and it was only then I realized how worn-out he looked—his unkempt appearance eclipsed with rusted gold. There was no way he was at home before this, or had the time or energy to be here right now. He was going out of his way for me, being in front of me in my room, and the thought made fury course through my senses.

"Where were you when I called you?"

He hesitated. "Home, of course."

It was my chance to glare. "I don't appreciate being lied to, either."

"The fact that you've got enough energy to pass death glares but not walk is funny, don't you think?"

I continued to stare at him.

"Since you have no appetite, I just got a soup mix. I'm sorry for not bringing something better, but I wasn't—" he paused, shifting his gaze away. "I'm guessing I'd find hot water downstairs, so rest up while I make this," he smiled softly. Too softly. Like he was warning me. "I won't take any objections."

"But—"

His eyes widened in exasperation. "Did you not hear me?"

"You didn't answer my question," I argued back. The headache was slowly dissipating, as if tremendous weight was being lifted off of my head. "Answer me first."

"I can't believe you still have the energy to fight," he didn't bother meeting my eye. "I'll answer truthfully when you'll start feeling better."

"I am feeling better already! Honestly, I cannot appreciate you enough for this, but you—"

"No. Objections." His gaze was strident, blue eyes rooting me to spot. "Rest."

I fell back onto the bed frame, letting my eyes fall shut. Of course he wouldn't listen. He was just as stubborn, if not more, and him being here was too much in itself in the first place. Too much in many, many aspects, because despite frustration clear in my voice, his presence proved to be the embodiment of solace—the kind of comfort I was lacking before. But none of it eased my racing heart when I found myself staring at him for too long to be deemed sane.

Luck had been on my side for once, since he didn't notice my very apparent gawking, his face deep in thought.

"Hey, Edwards. Why'd you call me if you had no intention of asking for help?"

"Why do you think?" My words were lined with frustration. "I hadn't seen you this whole week even once."

I gave it five seconds to let my words sink in the environment, and regretted everything I'd spoken. "And I. . .I didn't know where in hell you had gone, so I was curious and worried both! Xavier was being way too complacent about it, so I didn't bother asking even when he promised to tell."

He stood there, face unreadable. "Why?"

"What why?"

"Why were you worried?"

"Do you not expect me to be worried?" I sighed. "I hate to break it to you, but you've grown important to me even though you're a pain in the ass to deal with at times." Shut up, shut up, shut up, my brain chanted, but I couldn't. His eyes were wide and mouth slightly agape, and I didn't know why I couldn't stop digging this miserable hole for myself. "And who knows what you could've been doing for a whole week? You could've gotten arrested, for all I know."

Just shut up.

I added: "And all this solely because you're. . .my friend."

I spoke too much. Of course I fucking did, because sanity had been locked away the second I developed that headache, and even now, I had remnants of it pounding lightly on my head. I saw him open his mouth and close it shut, lips drawn in a straight line and eyes never leaving mine. I wasn't supposed to be talking to him at all in the condition I was, and I ended up inviting him over to stay for a while.

Good Lord. Could I embarrass myself any further?

So I forgot he existed in the same room as me and pressed onto my forehead, racking my brain for something, anything.

How could I resurrect myself after what I had just said?

But then: he laughed. Before I could pull myself together and string up another disastrous sentence, Evan had started laughing, a sound so deep and filling and downright pleasing to hear, I'd forgotten what I had said seconds ago. He'd laughed. At what? I wasn't even sure. But he'd laughed like I was a stand-up comedian all my life, and I wasn't sure how to act.

"I'll let you know everything," he began, eyes bright all of a sudden. "All you have to do is ask."

What a liar. I had asked him where he was before, and all he had done was change the topic. "Yeah, right."

"I'm just not telling you things now. Get better first."

When I met his eyes, the spark was still there, glowing. His elbows rested on the arms of the chair, and before I knew it, he had stood up and taken two long strides right towards me.

My first instinct was to back up. My spine arched over the bed frame, and his eyes briefly went over my face with a smile. Then, he stuck his palm to my forehead and did the same to himself, as if comparing the temperature—and he stood close for long enough for me to tilt my head up and gaze at the metal wrapped around his fingers, one of which I hadn't ever seen before.

Mindlessly, my fingers reached out. Traced lines around the edge, touch lingering on his skin for a bit. He was staring, eyes focused on mine, and my hand fell back straightaway. "Sorry. I haven't seen you wearing that one before. It's pretty."

His smile was sincere. "You want it?"

"No, that's not what I—" I flushed. "It looks nice on you."

He didn't respond. Instead, he took several steps backwards and grabbed the soup mix he was previously holding, giving me a classic grin of his. "Now, then. Rest up while I cook the best meal you'd have ever had."

▂

Maybe it was the fact that I hadn't had any food in the past seven hours, or the fact that he had done so much—so much that I couldn't even think of means to repay him anymore—but the meal was undeniably one of the best ones I had had in a while.

And he hadn't left. He wasn't listening to a word that came out of my mouth, eyes sharp and lips drawn, still refusing to tell me a thing. At this point, all he was here to offer was jewel-cutting stares and occasional smiles, and all I could do was huff.

"I can't even think of how to repay you for all that you did," I tried to strike a conversation, setting aside my now empty bowl. "And a thank you is not enough."

At that, his eyebrow quirked up. "Repay? For what?"

The satisfaction on his face was too prominent to go mistaken, and anger bubbled in my stomach. "For your unnerving and unusual display of kindness, of course."

"Oh?" He laughed. "Well, if you are so persistent, there are a mighty number of ways to repay me for all of my kindness. Want me to enlighten you?"

Perhaps the medicine still had me in its clutches, because all I could do was glare and let heat crawl onto my cheeks, giving him time to smile and lean back. "To repay me, promise yourself you'd not treat your body like this ever again. Have you been sleeping enough?"

I bit back a laugh. "You really aren't the one who's supposed to be asking that—"

"Have you?" He pressed.

"I've been sleeping fine," I groaned. "Mid-terms aren't going to go by smoothly if all I do is doze off. It's fine."

His face flashed with a known emotion, and then he planted his face right into his hand. "Of course you'd be doing this for the exams," he said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, rolling his eyes. "I should've known."

I rose an eyebrow. "What is that supposed to mean?"

He opened his mouth and shut it instantly, the ringing phone on his lap cutting through the conversation. He excused himself and returned exactly after four minutes, and his eyes were alit on fire—like something out-of-the-world had happened to take place in mere minutes.

"Uh, I need to leave." His words were bashful for a reason I couldn't pinpoint. "You'll be okay, right?"

"Of course. Guess you won't be able to tell me anything I wanted to know," I feigned despair, but he just grinned. "Also, let me apologize for this one last time, because I must've made it so weird and I'm—I'm sorry."

"Nothing's weird," he sighed, and then dropped his gaze to the floor. Curls curtained his eyes, so I couldn't tell what expression he had in them. His head was drooped down low for a while now, and it had only made me think if there was something wrong with the rug I had put a few months ago.

But he did lift his head. And he did look at me.

"I'm still with you on that, you know."

I didn't know if looking him in the eyes was better anymore, because they shone with the same intensity I had never been able to handle: a volatile, hazardous flicker, promising to engulf everything in its wake—leaving not even the holiest of deities in the afterglow.

I couldn't even listen to what he had said, eyes wide and puzzled.

"I said I'll be with you to fix your habit of apologizing pointlessly, didn't I?" He smiled, and warmth knocked right in the middle of the chest, settling between my sternum in lavender gentleness. "I don't make promises I cannot keep. Remember that, okay?"

And I tried to nod, to move my head, to respond in any form. But the memory of him saying that entered my mind like a safety threat and swept all sanity off the ground, because it felt like ages since that day—so, so long, like today and that night were worlds apart. Possibly not even in the same lifetime. And: why? How? How was it that my heart continued to bloom with incessant warmth just because it knew I had made so many more memories with him since then? Just because I could pick a memory distant, one sitting at rock-bottom, and still call it a favorite one?

I hadn't even grasped that he had walked closer. Dropped his face to my level. "Don't zone out on me now," he was rolling his eyes, I noticed. It would've been preferable if he maintained a distance for the response he wanted, but he didn't seem to notice how being in close proximity with him made all of my senses stop at once. "Acknowledge me."

My eyes met his, and I nodded in panic—just in hopes for him to back up as quick as possible.

But he leaned in. Just a little.

Just enough for me to widen my eyes and jump back. "What are you—"

"Words, sweetheart."

"Okay! Okay," I groaned, cheeks on fire. "Okay."

He smirked, raising his hand to flick my forehead. "Good girl."

"Leave." I glared at him despite embarrassment flooding my chest. "I might be getting sick again. Of you."

He didn't pay attention, because he had surfed through his phone for thirty seconds, and his face now beheld an immense, ridiculous smile.

"Hey, Edwards. You wanted to repay me, right?"

"Suggest something obscene and I'll make sure you don't live to see another day."

"Geez, what do you think of me?" He rolled his eyes, offended, and then smiled—one replicating moonlight. "Go to the library with me. I've got things to tell you, right?"

I paused. ". . . When?"

"Sunday," he held a breath. "Only if you're completely recovered."

"And free," I added with an eye roll.

He drummed his fingers on the phone screen, letting it illuminate. "Afternoon? 4 P.M.?"

I was free, I guess. And he did have some explaining to do.

Hedidn't even let me agree, taking the expressions on my face as a confirmation. Asshole."Okay, then," he added a wink. "It's a date."

• • •

i've edited this chapter so many times that i don't think i've ever hated words so strongly before, but thoughts?

anyways, i've recently been having trouble with keeping up with writing this book and there's times i'd rather completely give up, but i'm stubborn enough to ignore that. however, if there's something you love in particular about this book which you'd wanna share to help me overcome this wall i'm facing, i'll love you forever (yes this is desperation)

i hope you're all doing well. thank you for reading, you're golden