𝑪𝒂𝒍𝒚𝒑𝒔𝒐 ( 𝑬𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝑻𝒐𝒓𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒐)

⋆⭒V.⭒⋆

A sudden wave of nausea roughly wakes Calypso from her restless sleep and she struggles to open her eyes.

Next to her on the garden lounge, Ethan is still sound asleep. His scent again so prominent, his skin sticking against hers.

With the magical shimmer of the moonlight now replaced by the bright rays of the sun, Calypso regrets her bold decisions of the previous night.

She gives herself a second to take a deep breath and watches the sleeping boy anxiously, his hair is messily spread around his head and his bare chest rises and falls with his sleepy breaths.

Just one simple touch from Calypso and he'd wake up, they could go back inside together and maybe curl up in one of their beds, sleep until their hangover seems more bearable.

She bites her lower lip until the irony taste of her blood fills her mouth and she feels even more nauseous than before but also more awake.

Her fight or flight response tells her to head back inside, into the safety of her own bedroom and to pretend that last night simply did not happen.

Carefully she climbs off the garden lounge,discarding her book and hurries back to the house, not glancing back.

If she would have, maybe she'd grow weak and head back to the garden lounge, fall back asleep with Ethan close to her.

Her thoughts are running wild in her head and she rushes through the living room, this time not carefully avoiding the carelessly thrown around things.

Just barely catching herself before falling on her face, her wrists twist painfully and she stifled a sob, threatening to escape her mouth.

Clutching her wrist to her chest, she walks to her bedroom, tears now brimming in her eyes, her emotions running wild.

"What the hell Calypso", she sighs when she finally locks the door of her bedroom.

An unusual thing for her to do, at her home in France there was a no locked doors rule, Yvette Dupont being convinced that locked doors only hide secrets.

Now Calypso feels like a big secret herself, locking herself away from her friends until she can think clearly again and sort her emotions out.

The girl shuts the blinds of the french doors and despite the stuffy air in her room, she climbs under the duvet, needing to feel the comfort of being held without actually being close to any other human being.

Tears now fall from her green eyes and soak the thin fabric of her shirt, if someone would ask her why she was so upset, she'd simply blame it on the pain in her wrist or on how tired she was from the lack off sleep.

Truth is, Calypso hates herself for being weak. How come being close to Ethan makes her feel all sorts of emotions, turn her rational mind to mush?

For her, there is only one solution to her problem, stay away from the long haired boy until her emotions are under her control again, no more touching or longing glances.

Weakness is giving in.

So Calypso falls asleep, with Ethan on her mind even though she so desperately tries to think of something else but to no luck.

She might be able to control her emotions during the day but at night, in her dreams she is powerless to them.

A soft knock on her bedroom door is the reason for Calypso to wake up for the second time that day.

Her head hurts and her wrist is also throbbing with pain, bile rises in her throat and she swallows hard before unlocking the door and faking a smile to the person on the other side.

Victoria doesn't even need a second to see through her friends mask and she gently pushes her way into Calypsos room, locking the door behind them again.

She loves her male friends but sometimes they don't really grasp the concept of knocking before walking into a room.

"What's wrong?", the blonde climbs into the unmade bed and pulls the brunette down next to her.

Calypso knows that she can't tell Vic, she doesn't even know what is wrong with herself so how was she supposed to tell her best friend?

Instead of attempting an explanation about the whole Ethan situation, she just holds up her wrist, it is slightly swollen and turning blue and green.

"I fell, when I wanted to get a glass of water downstairs", she lies and watches as Victoria gently takes her wrist in her hand and examines it.

"We need to ice it, you probably sprained it",she diagnoses with a frown and places a delicate kiss on it.

"Here get better", she mumbles.

Blame it on the lack of sleep but the sweet gesture brings tears to Calypsos eyes.

Being with Vic is easy, her touches don't send jolts through her body and her mind doesn't tell her to run from her, why does it have to be so hard for Calypso to be around Ethan?

"Ethan slept outside, can you believe that? How uncomfortable he must have been", Victoria giggles as an attempt to cheer up her friend, not knowing that the brunet boy was the reason for Calypsos worries.

Another fake smile passes her lips when she looks at Vic.

"Let's get some food into our systems and spend the day at the pool, not doing anything just lounging", she mumbles and plays with a strand of Calypsos messy hair.

Together they walk down the stone staircase, Vic holding Calypsos uninjured hand and guiding her over to the kitchen to get some ice.

Lucky for Calypso, Ethan is nowhere to be seen, both Thomas and Damiano look equally as rough as the two girls, hangover really kicking in.

With a bag of frozen peas now pressed to her throbbing wrist, Calypso helps Thomas fry some eggs while Damiano hands out painkillers and glasses of fresh pressed orange juice.

Breakfast is unusually quiet, everyone tired and hungover and not in the mood to use the their energy on smalltalk.

They decide to just leave the cleaning for another day, Calypso jokingly warning her friends not to slip on the clothes and waving her injured hand in the air, and get changed into bathing suits for their lazy day at the pool.

Back in her room Calypso's eyes are immediately drawn to her copy of Song of Achilles that is carefully placed on her unmade bed, sitting atop of her pillows.

The book she left behind when she fled from Ethan this morning, not even giving it a second thought.

She doesn't want a reminder of her foolishness, with a heavy heart she chucks the book against the wall furthest from her bed, where it then slumps in the corner unfolded and with crumpled pages.