SOBANIIRUYO [✓]

chapter 30

sobaniiruyo, thirty.

❛  i cannot be caught calling a grown man mi chiquito this is humiliating ❜

"You're back?"

Y/N's back was slammed against the door of her dorm, her body unresponsive to Nilou's voice. Every movement of hers was a by-product of her dazed mind.

She had just cried, very very ungracefully too, in front of someone other than Nilou after literal years. There were many feelings lapping within her like the waves of the ocean— from sadness to humiliation to appreciation to... fondness.

"Y/N? Are you okay?"

"Huh?" She blinked. Then blinked again, as if registering the question at her own pace. "Yes. I'm definitely alive and well. Definitely sane. Definitely not dying."

Nilou narrowed her eyes. "What's this weird expression on your face? You're red... and upset... and happy? All at once?"

That was one way to describe her emotions. And it was scarily accurate.

"How's your prep going?" Y/N asked, dodging the question altogether. She patted her cheeks to regain her composure, hoping that would calm her raging heartbeat, too. "You look stressed."

"I'm exhausted. Not just because of the test, though. Cultural Fes is coming up."

"Right... let me know if there's something I can help with."

Silence.

The subtle ticking of the clock on the nightstand reverberated inside the packed room, like a gentle reminder of the passing time. One second. Several seconds. One minute. Several minutes.

Until Nilou spoke, shattering the stillness in a single move.

"Actually... I do."

"What is it?" Y/N fetched a hair tie from her pocket— the one Al-haitham gave her. She liked to carry it around everywhere, because it brutally swerved her memories back to the day when she made the horrifying mistake of consuming alcohol. It was a neon red sign that yelled 'never again' inside her head. "I'll be glad to lend a hand."

"It involves a certain Scriptwriter."