I was stirring the soup by the sink in his room that I forced the lunch lady to make for him. Again. And I think she hates me because this is boiling and will take forever to cool. 

"I can drink it," he groaned from his spot on the bed. 

"You'll burn your throat. Again. And even if that feels good, it doesn't mean it's helping your throat." 

"But it burns so good," he whined. 

I glanced at him over my shoulder, looking at him weirdly. 

"Have you ever held a lighter to your finger?" he asked. 

"Am I insane? No," I scoffed. I picked up the bowl and walked over, sitting in front of him, still stirring it to help it cool faster. 

"Look," he said, opening his drawer and pulling out a lighter. 

I thought he kept it in the bathroom. 

He flicked it, the flame coming up, and put his finger over it. 

I smacked his hand down. "Are you crazy?!" 

He chuckled. "You know fire doesn't really burn me. Maybe I just have tolerance," he shrugged. "I can even put it to my tongue. Wanna see?" 

"No," I shook my head, taking the lighter from him and handing him the bowl. "Soup burns are better than lighter burns," I mumbled, staring at the lighter. It was black with gold stars and a silver moon and little white specks. 

"You know, as a kid, I used to collect lighters. I still have the box somewhere in my closet." 

I looked at him. "Can I look for it?" 

He nodded, sipping on the soup. 

I opened his closet and walked inside. At the very bottom, buried under a pile of clothes, was a small shoebox. I pulled it out and walked back to the bed. I opened it, my eyes widening. "That's a lot of lighters," I chuckled. "Why did you collect them?" 

There was every kind of lighter here. Fancy ones, hello kitty ones, blingy ones with rhinestones, a few clear ones with flowers stuck in them. 

"I just liked fire," he answered. 

"Can I keep this one?" I asked, holding up the hello kitty lighter. 

"Take this one too," he said, handing me a white lighter that had a 666 written in silver with a pink heart and some rhinestones around it. "It matches you," he said, glancing at my white t-shirt that had a pink heart in the center of it with white pearls around the border. 

I chuckled, taking the two of them. I sat there, playing with the lighters, looking at all of them. There were some clear ones that if you shook, the neon liquid inside would move. "I had a feeling you really liked fire. Since you picked it for the assignment in history," I said. 

"And why did you choose fire?" he asked. 

"I just think it's cool that some people could control fire. I don't know if they really could but... it would be cool if they did," I chuckled. There was a knock on the door and I went to answer it, setting the box on the bed from my lap. I opened the door, getting startled. "Hi, what are you doing here, dad?" 

"You couldn't come to see me so I came by," he shrugged, ruffling my hair before walking past me and into the room like he knew every inch of it. Like he's been here before. 

I shut the door, walking to the bed where Callum was trying not to choke. 

"What happened to you?" my dad asked. 

"He's sick. He went out in the rain," I said, closing the box and leaving it on his desk. 

"That's weird. Going in the rain doesn't normally make you this sick." 

I looked at my dad in confusion. 

"I mean, people don't get so sick, do they?" he turned to me. 

"I... guess not," I mumbled. 

"Well, look at that. My daughter's taking care of you. Wasn't it meant to be the other way around?" my dad laughed. 

"Dad." I shot him a look. 

"Sorry, Jesus," he cleared his throat. "Get well soon." 

"Thank you, sir," Callum nodded, finishing the soup. 

"How come you're here?" I asked. 

"Oh, I'm just dropping by. I have a meeting in a restaurant nearby for lunch. I thought I'd come say hello and check on you." Then he turned to Callum. "Has she been doing okay since the first night?" 

He nodded, "She's been okay." 

"You could have just asked me that," I sighed. 

He glanced at his watch. "I'll head out. My meeting is in ten minutes." He kissed the top of my head and then left. 

"Your dad really likes giving you surprise visits, doesn't he?" Callum sighed, somewhat in relief. 

"Sorry, I didn't know," I said, closing the door behind my dad. 

"It's okay," he chuckled. 

I sat by his legs, watching him for a minute. And then we were both watching each other watch each other. "Do you know my dad from before? Other than just his name?" 

"No, why?" he frowned in confusion. 

"You're just very friendly with each other, I don't know. I understand why he's so friendly with Daisy because he's friends with her dad. But back in New York, he was never so welcoming to my friends. Not even the girls, let alone the guys." 

"What about your ex? What was his name? Lewis?" 

"Liam," I corrected. 

"Whatever. They both sound like 'loser' to me." 

I snorted, closing my eyes. I shook my head, "My dad didn't really like him. At all. My mom didn't either, actually. But she never said anything, she always thought it's best to let me learn from my mistakes. Unless getting pregnant was involved." 

He looked at me in amusement, nodding slowly. "Your mom sounds like she would have been really cool." 

"She was, my friends loved her. But she was a little uh... protective. Over both me and my dad." 

"Every mother is to some extent, so is every wife, it's normal," he shrugged. 

"I guess. Anyway, are you feeling any better?" 

He nodded. "You should go have lunch," he said. "I'll take a nap." 

"I can just—" 

"You can go and have lunch with your friends, that's what you can do." 

"You're my friend too," I said pointedly. 

"Hmm. But so is Daisy and so is Wyatt. And they're both downstairs." 

"Okay." I stood up, grabbing his keys. "Get better, please," I groaned, touching his forehead. 

His temperature seemed to be going down slowly. 

"Bye," I said, waving him bye. 

"Bye," he smiled. 

I turned the lights off on my way out and then left. 

After lunch ended, I was walking back, and just as I was about to reach his room, the door opened and the nurse walked out. "Hi," I smiled, passing her in the hallway. 

"I just came to check on him. He's okay now. There's no fever, he still has a bit of cold, and his throat will be fine in a day or two. You took good care of him," she nodded. "Just stay tonight and then tomorrow you can be back to your usual day, hmm?" 

I nodded in understanding before she walked away. I opened his door and found him finishing up Delirium. He didn't realize that I came back so I crept up behind him, putting my hand on his shoulder. "You read so fast, how do you enjoy the book?" 

He spun around, grabbing my wrist and yanking on it. "Jesus, you scared the shit out of me," he said, letting out a breath. 

I chuckled, "Um, ouch." I stared at the death grip he had on my wrist. 

"Sorry," he said, letting go so I walked around the bed, sitting in front of him. "Did I hurt you?" he asked when he saw me rubbing my wrist. 

"No, I just did not expect you to do something like that," I shrugged, observing my wrist which was getting a little red when he grabbed it. 

He clicked his tongue, grabbing my hand and pulling me forward. He brushed a finger over my wrist. 

"It's okay," I laughed. 

"No, it's not." 

"You didn't—" 

"Shut up," he huffed, pulling my first aid kit out of his drawer. 

"Callum, I don't need..." I trailed off with a sigh while he grabbed some ointment and put it on my wrist, rubbing it in. I watched him the whole time. 

He was so focused on taking care of my wrist even though nothing happened to it. His lips were moving faintly so I knew he was mumbling to himself. He sighed, shaking his head lightly, and looked at my wrist. 

"You can stop cursing yourself," I mumbled. 

His eyes lifted and met mine. 

"I'm okay," I nodded. I cleared my throat, "Hey, are you allowed to move around now?" 

He nodded, putting the kit away. 

"Do you want to go to the library with me?"

"The library or the balcony?" 

"No, the library," I chuckled. "I need to find this book for our English Lit class. It's meant to help me catch up with the syllabus, I don't know. It has some of the poems you guys already studied. You can stay here if you don't want to come." 

"I'll come," he nodded. 

I got up and then he stood up with me, both of us leaving his room and heading to the library. The staircase was pretty crowded since everyone was heading to class. He was walking ahead of me and I was behind him. 

"Clara!" I stopped and turned around but I couldn't see who was calling my name. Before I could turn back around and continue walking, someone knocked right into me, sending me falling back. 

"Oh, shit!" 

Stupid Finn. 

I gasped, my back hitting Callum's. Oh, thank god he didn't move. 

He spun around, catching me, and straightened me up. I caught my breath, my hand resting on my chest. "Are you hurt?" he asked. 

"No, you broke my fall," I said, clearing my throat, looking at him over my shoulder. 

He glared at Finn. 

"Come on." I grabbed his hand and pulled him away.

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