"Oh, hey," I smiled at Wyatt while entering the room.

"Hey," he nodded. "I'm just here to... check on my best friend," he said through gritted teeth, glaring at Callum.

What the hell happened there?

"Yeah, I think you've checked enough. Goodnight," Callum cleared his throat, glancing at me.

"Bye," Wyatt sighed and then stood up, waving at me on his way out.

I frowned in confusion while walking over to Callum. "Everything okay?" I asked.

"Yeah. Yeah, everything's fine," he nodded.

☆*･ﾟ✫ ✫*･ﾟ☆ ✫*･ﾟ☆ ✫*･ﾟ☆

I was lying there in the dark on my side of the bed, trying not to make a noise. I was even trying to breathe softly. I've been doing this for at least ten minutes while fisting and then opening my hands. I don't even want to move, just in case I wake him up.

I was forming my hand into a fist when his hand fell into mine. I froze, my fingers tightly clutching his. I let go, quickly pulling my hand back and turning to look at him. His back was facing me so I don't know if he's awake or still sleeping.

He started laughing as he turned around to face me. "What if wrong with you?" he asked.

"Thank god!" I sighed in relief. "I thought you were sleeping, I didn't want to move because I thought it would wake you up."

"I haven't gone to sleep yet," he replied.

"You could have told me that," I mumbled, dragging my hands down my face. "Are you sleepy?"

"Not really," he shook his head. "I take it you're not either."

"Nope. Is there something we can do? It's Saturday tomorrow anyway. No class," I shrugged.

"We can go—"

"No, no, no. You're meant to be resting. Is there anything we can do in your room?" I interrupted him.

He fell into thought. "Not really."

"You don't have any board games and stuff?"

"No," he answered, groaning as he sniffled and then reaching for a tissue. "Isn't it a bad idea for you to share a bed with me when I'm sick?" he asked, sneezing into the tissue.

"I thought so too. But if the nurse asked me to stay, I guess it's not."

He chuckled, "You can't get sick from me. I'm not sick in the way that you would be. I mean I am but... it's just different."

"What's different? You have a fever, cold, and bad throat like any normal human would," I frowned in confusion.

"Not really," he mumbled. "Anyway, we can read," he suggested.

"Sounds like the best option," I agreed.

He turned his lamp on and then grabbed Delirium from his nightstand.

"I gave you that. You should tell me what to read too," I said, getting off the bed and walking to his bookshelf.

"That one." He pointed to it. "30 Days of Night."

"The comic?" I chuckled, looking at it. I reached up for it but it was too high. "Isn't this the one where those thirty people face night continuously?" I asked, going on my toes but my fingers were only brushing the spine of the book. I couldn't reach it. "And then there's that vampire? It all happens in Alaska, Barrow. Doesn't it?" I grunted, jumping but still missing it.

"Yeah, that's the one." I froze, hearing him right behind me. He reached up and pulled it out. I turned around slowly, staring up at his face. "Here," he smirked, holding it out for me to take. I took it from him, both of us returning to our spots on the bed. "I didn't know you read horror comics," he said as we sat down.

"I read them a lot as a kid. There was this one comic store near my house."

"And you chose the horror section?" he chuckled.

"No," I scoffed. "This is the one horror comic- my first one ever. Someone accidentally put it in the romance section. I found it and thought I'd give it a try. It's pretty scary, actually."

"Have you read any other ones?"

"A few, but I know some of the good ones," I answered, glancing at him. He was staring at the comic in my hands. "You can read it if you want. You can read that one later," I chuckled, holding it out for him to grab.

"We can read it," he shrugged, putting Delirium back on his nightstand and scooting closer to me.

"Together?" I asked, staring at him while he took the book from me and opened it to the first page.

"Yeah, why not? Just, tell me when you're done," he said. Both of us read together in silence.

For the first few pages, I would tell him when I was done reading, and after that, we built up a rhythm and pace. We read at the same pace so he would flip the page at the perfect time for both himself and me.

"You hold it," he said after we'd been reading for thirty minutes. I held it, following the same pace.

After another fifteen minutes, I felt his head resting on my shoulder. After reading by myself for five minutes, I put the book down. I turned to look at him and sure enough, he was sleeping. I chuckled, brushing his hair out of his eyes.

He sleeps so peacefully.

I gently lifted his head from my shoulder and he scooted down sleepily, his head now on his pillow. I left the book on the nightstand and then stared at the lamp. I hope I can turn it off without waking him up. I sighed, putting my right knee on the other side of his torso. I'm straddling him. Oh my god.

Don't think about it, just don't think about it.

I grabbed the headboard with my left hand and slowly leaned forward, struggling to reach the switch of the lamp. I finally reached it and was about to turn it off when he shuffled, lying flat on his back, knocking my knee off. I'm really straddling him now. I should have just gotten off the bed and walked to the other side. I quickly turned the lamp off and then got off of him, sitting up on my side, letting out a breath. I mumbled curses under my breath, lying down.

I turned over so my back faced him and closed my eyes, trying to go to sleep. This is the hardest night I've had here so far. I don't remember the nightmare and my first night, so this seems harder than that to me.

He shuffled. I could feel that he was closer to me now. Then his leg went over mine.

I bit my lip, sealing my eye shut tightly.

Why me?

He sighed, "Cause you're Clara."

My eyes snapped open. "Did I say that out loud?" I whispered.

He chuckled, his arm going over my waist, his chest pressing into my back. "I read your mind," he mumbled, his lips brushing against my ear.

I clicked my tongue, throwing his arm off. "You should have told me if I woke you up."

"Go to sleep, Clara," he said, retreating his leg. I felt his back touching mine, meaning he rolled over too. I turned to glance at him and found his back to me as I had thought.

I hope I can just get through tonight. Maybe it'll be easier after the first time.

I woke up the next morning to my alarm beeping on my phone. I blinked, staring at the ceiling.

He groaned beside me, startling me.

"Oh no, oh no, oh no," I whispered to myself, rushing to turn it off so I didn't wake him up. "How did I forget that I'm not in my goddamn room?" I mumbled under my breath, furiously tapping the 'stop' button. I fell back on my pillow when it turned off, sighing in relief because he wasn't awake just yet.

I should go get breakfast for both of us, I don't want to wait in line. So I crawled out of bed and slipped out of his room without disturbing him. I stopped by my room to brush my teeth but I didn't bother changing. I went downstairs, skipping down the stairs with one hand sliding on the railing. I was about to reach the last flight of stairs when my hand bumped into another and I didn't see it coming because I was staring at my slippers. I halted, looking up and finding Atticus.

"Hi," he nodded.

I cleared my throat, "Hi."

"You look different," he noted.

"What?" I blinked in confusion.

What is he trying to do? Act like he didn't cause a scene the day before?

"I dropped by your room earlier but you weren't there. Were you with Daisy?"

"No, I was with—" I cut myself short. "What do you want?"

"I wanted to apologize for the way I acted that day. It's between me and Callum, there was no reason for me to get you involved. But I did it anyway. So, I'm sorry."

"I'm not the one you should be apologizing to, you know. As you said, it's between you and Callum. I'm not involved." I tried stepping around him but he grabbed my hand.

"Where were you?"

"Not that it's any of your business," I sighed. "But I was with Callum."

"What?" he frowned in confusion.

"He's sick. I have to take care of him."

"Why does it have to be you?"

"Because he's been taking care of me. What's wrong with you?" I looked at him weirdly.

Why does he always act like we're friends and we talk often?

"I have to go," I mumbled, freeing my hand from his.

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