𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐎 (𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐔𝐒) *editing*

𝐉𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐚𝐧🥀

"Fucking seriously?" Tired and rightfully moody, Maeve flinched awake at the sound of rapid knocking on her dorm door. She groaned in agitation, especially as her bunkmate Olive hadn't once stirred or made an attempt to see who was at their door. It was still dark out, and it was raining its ass off. Within the belly of the storm clouds above, sharp thunderous growls emitted. Rain pelted the outside of the windowsill and the fire escape. It was like hail, and it was very headache-inducing.

Fucking great.

"Olive," she tried groggily. "Olive! Someone's at the door!"

The girl above groaned, rolled over, and muttered something along the lines of, "Get it yourself."

Maeve trapped her head under her pillow. She groaned again and furiously yanked off her blanket. Tossing her pillow aside, she slid off her bed and stomped toward the door. She hoped whoever it was on the other side of the door better had a damn good reason to be there. She was not in the mood for childish pranks.

Exposed to the cool air, her arms sprouted near-painful goosebumps, her legs too. Halfway to the door, the person knocked again. This time, a little louder.

"Fucking hell..." She grumbled and ruffled her bed head.

The doorknob and lock were cold to the touch as she maneuvered its mechanics and twisted the nose. The irritation that bubbled in her seemed almost overwhelming. Her eyes stung slightly against the light in the hall when she opened the door, just a crack. It was that second the door was barely open that it was pushed wider, causing her stumble backward while a tall figure slipped inside.

"What the fuck — Jordan?"

Initially, she was ready to cuss out the invasive presence, but when she saw him — she lost her breath. Her mouth became too dry for her to speak. She stared at the familiar figure, shutting the door behind her, not caring that it slammed. Too shocked by seeing him, she didn't check to see if Olive awoke or not; she knew she'd be sleeping still - a hurricane couldn't wake that girl up.

It'd been days, no, a fucking month.

A fucking month.

"Hey there, Mariposa." He'd grown taller. Like, half a foot taller. And he'd grown a slight stubble. It complemented his growing features and made him look a bit older. "How's it been?"

Maeve finally caught her breath. Did she feel angry? Relieved? There seemed to be too many emotions flurrying through her to just pick one. Her pulse began racing, and her eyes grew hot. He stood in front of her with a grin she missed seeing. Clench. Mud and rainwater smudged his face, and his clothes. Her eyes traveled up and down his being, drinking in everything that changed about him. For instance, his dark curly hair — it'd been sheared off into an ugly buzzcut. He had such beautiful hair.

Jordan stared back at her; his eyes trained solely on her. His brows knitted together, and his lips pressed into a thin line. He seemed as if he wanted to say something but couldn't get the words to come out. She saw the uneasiness and fear in his eyes. She almost felt bad, but then she remembered how he just disappeared. He should be afraid, she decided.

"Everything okay, Mae?"

She found herself rushing at him. Involuntarily, but then she let it happen. At first, it was anger, and all she wanted to do was strike him with a left hook. But then, that rage simmered into relief and any violence on her mind vanished. Her body seemed heavy as it collided with his; her arms slunk around his torso, locking tightly. She clung to him, desperately holding back the ugly tears.

She feared he would disappear again.

"You're alive," She breathed.

His clothes, damp from the downpour, had him smelling gross as if he'd been rolling around in a sewer. He probably had been in a sewer.