17 Last Times

⤹4❁ The return

𝚆𝚎𝚕𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚘𝚗𝚎. 𝙸'𝚖 𝚜𝚘 𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝙸'𝚟𝚎 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚘𝚗 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛, 𝚑𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛, 𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞, 𝙸'𝚟𝚎 𝚊𝚕𝚜𝚘 𝚐𝚘𝚝 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚋𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚢 𝚙𝚑𝚢𝚜𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚕 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚝𝚑 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝.

𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚙𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝙸𝚝 𝙳𝙾𝙴𝚂 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗 𝚊 𝚕𝚘𝚝. 𝚇𝚡

𝙸'𝚖 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚗𝚍, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝙸 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚕𝚕 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚒𝚝!

𝙻𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚡

__________

𝓓𝓪𝓿𝓲𝓷𝓪

Here I am. First day back to school.

It's been a week since Nathan had found me at the cemetery. We didn't talk much that day, but the more time passed by, the more the silence at Will's house started to get louder in my ears. I needed a distraction from the loneliness that had gotten even more profound after all my friends went back to school and had to focus on studying. My part-time job was no longer sufficient at detaching me from my thoughts. I needed to find myself some place louder, more bustling, where the animated chatters of trying-too-hard-to-be-cool freshers and get-out-of-my-way seniors would drown out the constant talk in my head.

"We're here." Will kills the engine and looks over at me. His hands move nervously up and down his thighs. "You ready? Or do you need a few more minutes?"

I stare out the window. The car park is rammed with vehicles, most of which, are temporarily abandoned as their owners have already headed towards the uni building.

Regardless of my decision of returning to school, I haven't agreed on moving back to the dorm. I can't do it. At least not just yet. Sometimes a wave of guilt flushes over me. The guilt of hindering Will from living his student life, which he has deliberately put on hold just to be able to take care of me, and now, because of the circumstances, aka me making it back to uni, become my chauffeur. I did offer taking buses instead, but he insisted on driving, explaining that it would make him less worried if he knew I was safely getting to and back from school.

I latch my fingers on my bag. It takes a whole lot of effort for the words of gratitude to come out of my mouth. "Thank you."

A glint of surprise settles in his eyes, lightened by the early sun. "I mean . . . It's just a lift. You don't have to thank me." He smiles a faint smile and folds his fingers around the door handle, ready to get out.

"I'm not talking about the lift, Will." My throat tightens, strained by the mixture of resentment and acknowledgement towards him.

He lets go off the handle and gives me a curious look.

I swallow the pride that's kept me silent for the past few weeks. I can feel it burn my stomach; the anger, the resentment, the grief. All the emotions that clench my teeth when I look at him. The devils on my shoulder that whisper bad things about him and give me ideas of how to hurt him. I swallow it all. It tastes bitter. "It wasn't a thank you for the lift, Will." I fight the urge to look away. "I'm thanking you for everything you've been doing for me recently."