Puck (Kickstarting My Heart #3) (COMPLETED)

We Could Be Heroes

Chase didn't show up to school Monday, but was in Psychology 101 not so bright eyed and bushy tailed Tuesday morning.

I could only assume they'd kept him under seventy-two observation and his father had pulled him out of the institution as soon as it was legal.

He was slumped forward in his seat, face buried in his crossed arms on the desk, his breathing shaky. If I didn't know better, I'd think he was crying.

"Hey." I dropped my bag under the desk loud enough to startle Mr. Collins at the front of the room, in the midst of reading from his planner and transferring his words on to the whiteboard. Chase jumped so much I thought he was going to slip from his chair and fall. Instead, he looked toward the large file cabinet to his left, clearly avoiding my questioning look.

"I think it'd be best if we switched seats." He finally said, so quiet it was barely audible.

I leaned back in my chair, crossing my arms. "We're literally halfway through the project. I doubt Mr. Collins is going to allow us to switch now."

"I didn't say we had to get different partners, Harper." His voice rose. "We can communicate through text to finish the rest. A majority of it is the PowerPoint, we don't even have to text to finish that."

Jordan had always commented on how impulsive I am, and that it'd be my demise. As I reached forward and touch the top of Chase's hand, he spun and nearly elbowed me in the face, missing me by a fraction of an inch. His startled look in my direction was all I needed to confirm my suspicions.

There was no doubt he'd been crying. His eyes were as bloodshot as Nick's had been at the rink Sunday, but were nowhere near dilated. His cheeks were flushed red, a fresh bruise forming on the bridge of his nose.

"You need to leave me alone, Veronica." He snapped. "I need you to listen for once in your fucking life. Stay away from me."

I snorted, falling back in my seat. "Yeah, because that's what's best, right? That you end up completely and utterly alone."

"I don't matter." He said quietly, meeting my eyes. "But you do. I could have gotten you killed Friday, Veronica. If that's not a sign that you need to stay the fuck away, I don't know what is."

"Why?" I breathed out, shaking my head. "Why am I not enough?"

He cocked his head to the side in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"I have done everything in my power to try and show you that there's still someone who gives a shit if your alive the last two months and it's still not enough. I'm not enough."

My words caused him to cringe and retreat into himself again. He stayed quiet, training his eyes on our teaching who was quietly humming what sounded like the national anthem, his planner in one hand, the other scribbling words across the board.

After what seemed like hours, Chase responded.

"In movies they show the angel on one shoulder and the devil on the other. That is me right now." He said, an almost sadistic look in his eyes, "The devil is shouting everything I'm not, that I can't do, that I will never be. He's beating me down and pushing me around, a constant replay of all the words, the rumors, that abuse bouncing around in my head. The repetitive image of my mother lying dead in the coffin a never-ending slideshow."

I felt my heart sink at his words, shattering as his voice cracked at the mention of his mom.

"Then there's you, Veronica. The angel. Sometimes the shit you say is tough love, but you're right. Always. And it's not that you're not enough, not at all. You've given me a reason to fight. And I did, I tried to fight them, but battling your demons is a fight that's impossible to win."