—because there wasn't a way I could stop myself from running headfirst to the hospital with nothing but the rapid and merciless beating of my heart, loud and clear in my ears.

Vision slightly blurry with tears on the brim, I tried to be steady and balance myself, but realizing that my hands trembled and feet twitched made everything worse.

It's not what happened in the past, I reasoned to calm myself down. As long as I could reach him without the world blurring completely before my eyes, it would be okay. This was the present. This isn't what I am thinking it to be.

Running whilst panicking felt exactly like poison rain clogged in my veins. Like knife being twisted in the gut repeatedly. My heart had plummeted to the bottom of my stomach, and it still resonated in my ears and my head. My feet burned because the distance wasn't small, but nothing was enough for me to stop. The memories remained too raw, too bitter, too vicious. If this part of me was bare, I'd lose everything I'd managed to stick to place.

I entered like storm and rushed like the wind, overlooking the waving hand of the receptionist and walking right through the first corridor with my eyes trained on a certain boy with black hair—

I had to remind myself to breathe. Chant: it's okay, it's okay, it's okay—without truly knowing if it even was.

When I saw him, he was staring with fright.

I couldn't blame him. I looked horrendous, panic-stricken, like I had just been dropped into the world with no clear instructions. Accidents didn't come with appointments, though. Xavier Henderson gave me a look before it dawned on him, and he said phrases like "he's okay, Laura" and "you don't look so good", but I couldn't have heard him. All I could hear was the rapidness of my heart conflating with deafening nothingness, all whilst I gripped onto the metal handle and barged right through the door in haste.

I doubted this was allowed, but he didn't stop me. As the door closed softly behind me, I took in my surroundings—scrupulously spotless, air pungent and overwhelming, room too many shades of white. My heart was still beating mercilessly. Evan's head was hung low, eyes on the ground, and I had almost ignored the tear that slipped down my cheek. I was. . .crying? Did he not notice me after my dramatic display? Why was he not meeting my gaze? Why—

I let my eyes fall onto him properly. His right wrist was wrapped up in a gauze, and a band-aid sat on the left side of his forehead. Immediately, my chest squeezed. Idiot.

The room kept spinning. My head felt like it would burst open. My limbs remained jittery, and the thump of my heart raced so wildly in my ears, I thought I was going to pass out.

Idiot, idiot, idiot. I wanted to tattoo that word on his stupid forehead.

He's okay. I'm so glad he's okay.

Finally, he looked up—as if realizing someone was very much in the same room as him, someone who was having a ridiculously hard time breathing—and I saw him visibly tense up. His mouth opened and then closed, and he let out an inaudible string of curses. "Laura—you. . .Why—shit. Are you okay?"

Do I look okay?

I didn't utter a word. He was now standing, eyes wide and lips pursed, and I realized how angry I was. More concerned and relieved and panicked and trembling, but anger coursed through me like an ignited ball of fury. I also wondered how I hadn't blacked out already. I had done a good job not bawling my eyes out in front of the public or in front of Xavier, but the side of my head throbbed and my eyes became glossed, and he decided it was the right time to grin at me. His lips tipped upwards, just a fraction, and eyes met mine. I couldn't resist anymore.

With a sob raking my body, I ran to him and wrapped my arms around him.

I couldn't think this through no matter how hard I tried, because anything coming to this was out of question. Any reasoning. I sensed his body become tense, arms not moving an inch. He stood in my arms like he was made of stone, and I felt heat rise up to my cheeks. And when he refused to hug me back after several heartbeats had passed, I was too embarrassed to look him in the eye. I always make things worse. Why did I have to do that?

The world started blurring again. I wasn't sure if it were the tears or just my vision going haywire, but I shut my eyes tight, because I couldn't and didn't want to pass out right—

His arms snaked around my waist. I froze. "Laura," he said into my hair, and something about his voice was unsettling, like it had seeped into my bones. "Breathe. Match your breathing with me, please. I'm okay. You're okay. We're okay."

Technically, we were. And within the span of a couple minutes, I let his words prove true.

My breathing was still staggered, but the world was not as blurry. My hands still shook. Heartbeat still raced. He realized that—saw my hand quiver, and held on tighter. My eyes were shut. The embarrassment tripled, and so did the flush on my face, but I couldn't understand. . .didn't understand how being in someone's arms could provide the warmth of all the summers in a lifetime.

Our breathing synced in a while, and the tremors in my limbs started subsiding.

"Laura," he called for me again, and it was the softest of sounds. "How are you feeling?"

"Shut up," I muttered into his chest. God, shut up. Who allowed you to know how to talk me out of this, too? "You are the one that's injured."

"I'm okay, though," he murmured. "You, on the other hand, don't look so good."

I deadpanned. "I wonder why."

When he didn't reply, I fisted his hoodie in my hand, and tugged. Rather harshly—just like I intended. He groaned a little, but I could hear the smile in his voice. "Okay, okay, I am a little hurt. And that hurt. A little. Be gentle, Edwards."

I just buried my face into his chest, and when I wanted my voice to come out as threatening, it was the lightest of murmurs. "But I feel like beating the shit out of you."

His laugh filled the air. We stood in the embrace for too long to be deemed normal, too long to be regarded sane. Perhaps I had crossed all borders and went diving into insanity land, but it looked like he didn't have a problem. I didn't want to let go. He continued to make comforting taps on my head, holding onto me. I could faintly hear his heart. It was a fleeting thought, one too distressing, but I wondered if our heartbeats had synced too.

It made me flush darker.

"I'm sorry," his voice was nothing above a whisper. "I'm so sorry."

"I. . .you—I hate you," I spoke. "You're worse at driving than me."

"Too far." He just laughed. "How are you feeling? Do you want water?"

I broke apart, but he didn't. He still held me by my arms, eyes looking deeply into mine. "Sit down."

"I'm oka—"

"Sit down."

I huffed. He handed me a glass of water, sitting on the chair right next to mine, and my eyes had drifted back to him and the wrist that was injured. He was looking at me with a gaze atypical: strident yet soft, like I was someone he could see through. Like it was so obvious why I acted the way I did. I wanted to look at anything but his eyes.

"I'm. . .really sorry. Sorry." I blurted. I knew what I was apologizing for, but coherent words had left my brain a long time ago.

He motioned for me to finish my glass of water. "For what?"

I bit my lip, looking away. How do I phrase this? Why doesn't the ground just swallow me whole already? "For. . .uh, hugging you. Without consent."

It started out as a small chuckle, multiplying into fits of boyish laughter—and I knew this was the hardest I had ever wanted to not be perceived. Not be looked at. Not exist. I liked hearing his laugh, I had accepted it some time ago. However, I did not appreciate being laughed at. "Why are you apologizing for it? Did you hit your head, too?"

"Asshole," I retorted with, eyes narrowed. I was still too dazed and awkward to come up with a witty response, so I stuck to cursing it out. "Some people don't like physical touch, and there exists a thing called personal space."

"Right," he nodded. Then, he spoke with a certain undertone, eyes bright. "I don't mind getting a little physical, Edwards."

I rolled my eyes. "Good to know."

"Good to know?" He inquired, eyes shining with interest. "Hm."

"Shut up." I still wanted to crawl into a hole. His smile did nothing good to my heart.

"You've said that twice today."

"And I'll say it a thousand times again today."

"Are you insinuating that you'll be spending the rest of the day with me, Edwards?"

Please, my eyes met his. No number of injuries can cure you out of your assholery. His eyes flashed, as if he were saying: got me there.

"How'd this happen, anyway?"

"I was in a rush," he said, and shot me an apologetic smile, but my eyes stopped on the ground. Just like him. When I refused to lift my gaze to his, he continued. "But—I'm doing okay. Better than ever, in fact. No idea why Xavier called you. I wasn't expecting you at all. He made such a big deal out of this, when nothing even happened."

My throat dried. He continued again. "I don't know why you panicked so much. And seeing you. . .it scared me even more than it should've," he pursed his lips, eyes looking into mine. "More than I let on. I guess I expected you to beat the shit out of me quite literally, so when you barged in like that, I. . .I didn't know what to do."

It took me a second to grasp what he had said. When I looked him in the eye, things didn't remain tangible. The biggest of destructions could hail and I'd be inevitably astray, and the earth could split open in two only for me to be oblivious. "I'm sorry."

There weren't any other words I could rely on.

"Stop apologizing," he shook his head. "Please."

Please. I didn't like him saying that, for some reason.

He looked away. I stood there, hands tied and eyes searching, and when he faced me again, the blue in his gaze was holding mine with inquisition. "There's. . .something else to it, right? There's something which is bothering you," he paused, as if searching for the words. "Something which was made worse because of me today. I feel responsible, somehow. But I just—I just want you to know I'd be willing to listen. The moment you'll be able to talk about the past without reliving it. Whenever that is. . .you'll have me."

Two thoughts flashed in an instant, and I didn't know which one of them was worse. I wanted to cry again, for some reason. But what made that a disaster remained the fact that I wanted to be in his arms while doing that.

No. I shut my eyes. I don't.

Before either of us could say something, the door flew open, and in came Ciara Everyl—the deadliest look on her face. This was the first time I was beyond grateful for her to barge in like that. "You're such a pain in the ass," she gritted her teeth. "I told you to drive like a normal human being, but you never listen."

I flinched at her tone, but Evan was rolling his eyes. "Who told you?"

"I don't need to be told," she gave him a once-over. "I was here for. . .mom." Then, she shook her head. "Still, no broken bones. An achievement, perhaps?"

"She's okay, right?" He had asked, but she just sighed. I saw his eyes soften. When her gaze dropped on me, her frown turned into a warm smile. "Oh, hey. You look exhausted, are you alright?"

I tried to grin. "I will be."

"See you on Monday, then." And just like that, she was gone. No matter how much I tried to deny it, something about them made a billion questions roar in my mind—some of them blatantly stupid. Ludicrous. Perhaps even outrageous. I would be out of my goddamn mind if I thought of it some more, and found myself relieved when Evan broke me out of my trance.

"You're really okay, right?"

The concern in his voice made me smile on the inside, but I narrowed my eyes instead. He motioned towards the door, and then laughed. "The doctor would kill me if he saw you, so you should leave with Xavier. I'm completely fine now."

"I'll leave alone. Let Xavier drop you home," I sighed. "Go home and rest today."

Something flashed in his eyes. "Depends on if you're ready to take care of me."

"On second thought, I hope you trip on air on your way out."

this chapter made me emo. let me know what you think and don't forget to vote if you enjoyed! ty. you're golden