𝗩𝗜𝗘𝗡𝗡𝗔 ↝︎ ᵍʳᵃʰᵃᵐ ᵈᵘⁿⁿᵉ

𝙛𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙩𝙚𝙚𝙣, 𝙧𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙘𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙮

track 4: i saw the light

Phone pressed against her ear, Blaire felt genuine dread pierce her chest. She didn't understand how her mother got her number — perhaps it was thanks to the numerous connections she had in the palm of her hand. Regardless, the voice sent her mind down a spiral.

All her mother had said was her name, greeting her, but it was enough to rattle her until she felt her hands shake slightly. Not bothering to listen to what she had to say, Blaire hung up, ignoring the constricting sensation around her neck.

She wished she could say that was the first and last time her mother attempted to call her, but alas, it wasn't. Her mother was persistent in the worst way possible. Every day, she'd call at least once around the same time, and every day, Blaire would rush to the phone before any of her bandmates would, instantly hanging up.

She never told them who was on the other end of the line, overlooking their questions and Graham's curious, stolen glances. Normally, if she and Graham weren't in a massive argument, she would confide in him. She trusted him more than anyone, but since their relationship was more than a bit rocky, she kept that secret.

She wasn't the only one acting strange. Graham felt utterly miserable without getting his daily dose of Blaire every day. She was like a drug, and he had yet to have his fix. He wandered into her room, finding her writing lyrics like her life depended on it. He watched as she reread what she wrote before scrunching her nose and yanking the page out entirely. With the unspoken tension toward Graham and the constant calls from her mother, the lyrics no longer came easily. She was sure she had scoured every corner of her brain, and she had turned up empty-handed.

He knocked on the doorframe, leaning against it. Expecting it to be Karen, Blaire froze when she saw his face. It felt like ages since she last examined his features — since she last looked him in the eyes. A familiar sensation tightened her heart.

"What's going on with you?" Graham asked.

"Nothing." Blaire lied.

"B, I know you."

"Do you?" Blaire questioned, eyes narrowed. She felt her heart skip a beat at the nickname. Secretly, she had missed it. "What do you want? Was Alana too busy for you today or what?"

Graham ignored how her comment stung, fearing she would reject him. He knew he deserved it. Cautiously, he stepped forward before sitting on the edge of her bed. He waited for her to tell him to leave, but those words never came out.

Despite how much she wanted to, she didn't hold a bitter tone. Against her wishes, she felt safe around him. "What I want to know is what's wrong?"

Insults sat on the tip of her tongue. Everything in her body urged her to kick him out of her room, but days of silent treatment took a toll on her too. Graham was the first person to know about Eva, about the abuse she endured, and he never judged. He never looked at her differently. "My mom. She's calling. I don't know how she got the number to our house but — she won't leave me alone."

Graham was in disbelief. How could her mother call after what she did — after the atrocious act she helped conceal? The answer was simple: her mother was a flat-out terrible person. Hating to see Blaire's past haunt her, he refrained from pulling her into an embrace.

It was as if his body were on autopilot, nearly raising his arm to urge her into his arms. As he fought against that urge, he wanted to feel her head against his chest and feel their hearts begin to beat in unison — so, so badly. Little did he know, she yearned for it too. He settled for words of assurance. "I'll take care of it."

Browse furrowed in confusion, Blaire asked, "What?"

"Starting tomorrow, she won't call again. I promise." Graham whispered.