𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐎 (𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐔𝐒) *editing*

𝐉𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐚𝐧🥀

rewritten: January-May 2025

Seriously? Maeve jolted awake, her mood sour as she heard relentless knocking on her dorm door. She let out a frustrated groan, especially since her bunkmate Olive hadn't budged an inch to check who was interrupting their peace. The darkness outside was thick, and the rain was pouring down in buckets. Thunder rumbled ominously from the storm clouds above, while the rain hammered against the window and fire escape, sounding almost like hail – definitely a recipe for a headache.

Just perfect.

"Olive," she called out, still half-asleep. "Olive! There's someone at the door!"

Olive merely rolled over with a groan, mumbling something that sounded like, "Get it yourself."

Maeve buried her head deeper into her pillow, letting out a frustrated groan as she angrily kicked off her blanket. With a swift motion, she tossed her pillow aside and climbed out of bed, stomping her way to the door. She silently wished that whoever was on the other side had a really good reason for interrupting her sleep. She was definitely not in the mood for any childish antics.

As she stepped into the cool air, goosebumps prickled her arms and legs. Just as she reached the door, another knock echoed, this time louder than before.

"Great, just what I needed..." she muttered, running a hand through her messy hair.

The doorknob and lock felt icy against her skin as she fumbled with the mechanism, twisting it with a mix of frustration and urgency. A wave of irritation surged within her, almost too much to bear. As she cracked the door open, the bright light from the hallway made her eyes sting. Just as the door opened a fraction, it was suddenly shoved wider, sending her stumbling back as a tall figure slipped inside.

"What the hell — Jordan?"

She was ready to unleash a torrent of anger at the unexpected intruder, but the moment she laid eyes on him, her breath caught in her throat. Words escaped her as her mouth went dry. She stood frozen, watching him close the door behind him with an unintentional slam. She was too stunned to check if Olive had stirred. Deep down, she knew her friend would still be fast asleep; nothing short of a storm could rouse that girl.

How long had it been?

Forty-eight days, a quiet voice in her mind whispered.

"Hey, Mariposa." He had shot up, looking at least half a foot taller. A bit of stubble adorned his face, enhancing his developing features and giving him a more mature appearance. "How have you been?"

Maeve finally managed to steady her breathing. Was it anger she felt? Or perhaps relief? A whirlwind of emotions swirled within her, making it hard to settle on just one. Her heart raced, and warmth flooded her eyes. There he stood, grinning in a way she had longed to see. She clenched her jaw. His face and clothes were smeared with mud and rainwater. Her gaze roamed over him, absorbing every change. For instance, his once-luscious dark curls had been chopped into a harsh buzzcut. Shame. He had such beautiful hair.

Jordan's eyes were locked onto hers, filled with intensity. His brows furrowed, and his lips formed a tight line. It was as if he had something to say but was struggling to find the words. She could see the tension and fear reflected in his gaze. A part of her felt a twinge of sympathy, but then she recalled how he had vanished without a trace. He had every reason to be scared, she thought.

"Mae?"

She found herself rushing toward him, almost against her will, but she embraced the impulse. Initially fueled by anger, she envisioned landing a punch, but that fury quickly transformed into a wave of relief, washing away any thoughts of violence. As her body met his, it felt heavy, and wrapped her arms around his body, holding tightly. She clutched him, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill.

The fear of losing him again overwhelmed the anger.

"You're alive," she whispered.

His clothes were soaked from the rain, giving off a foul odor, as if he'd been wallowing in filth. Perhaps he had been.