𝐀 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐃𝐘 𝐎𝐅 𝐕𝐈𝐂𝐄𝐒

Ignition

Lapis High School felt empty without the booming presence of Oscar James Welsh.

Two days ago, post-coup attempt, when Oscar said he had plans, you thought he referred to something after school. Apparently, he meant the entire day.

So your absence yesterday (from flashbacking in bed) was not the only unexpected absence. It had whittled your group from seven members to four. Therefore, plans to visit the hospital and see Deuce were postponed to today, depending on whether you came to school. Which you did.

But Oscar was away this morning too.

You had a strong feeling that this was related to his "plans".

What plans were they exactly? No one knew. Not Charlie, not Terrence, not Marjory. Not even Hash who hacked into all his accounts during the twenty-minute recess between second and third period, yet found nothing. You knew Oscar loved mysteries and instigating mass confusion. But in all the years you knew him, he had never once ditched school like this without telling at least one of Bonsai Gang.

You would be lying if you said you weren't a little bit worried.

Palm squishing your cheek, you sat at your desk during your third class: Accounting. Your heavy eyelids threatened to drop their weight and pull you into a deep slumber at any moment. Dark eyebags hung above your cheeks as you felt the red streaks in your eyes with each gritty blink. Numbers and graphs on the chalkboard blurred in and out of view, the same wavy vision soon applying to the rest of the classroom.

You yawned like a lion - your jaw stretched just as wide, the noise akin to a roar - causing the student in front to glare at you.

Zero. You got zero hours of sleep last night.

Because of one man.

Mirroring the student, you looked behind you and glowered at Caspar. He was already staring at you, sighing dreamily. So when you met his gaze with such fiery hatred, which he mistook for passion, he initially flinched...then a pink blush spread across his face, and so did his dopey smile.

'Weirdo.'

With Oscar gone, now there was no physical barrier separating you from the bagel-crazed creep behind you.

Turning your attention to the whiteboard, a pained groan escaped your lips. Your hands flew to cradle your torso. Bruises from the countless fights you waged two days ago had now blossomed all over the skin of your abdomen, upper arms, chest and thighs. You hid them under clothes or bandages, away from prying eyes, so that not even your friends could notice them. It took you twice as long to put on your school uniform this morning, because every time you moved in a certain way or accidentally touched the wounds, you would jolt from how much it hurt.

Your body ached at the recollection of being dropped over a thousand feet. Falling through the sky, you were a meteor causing ripples through the clouds. Minutes away from death, had it not been for Hash swooping in to catch you.

In lieu of dreams, your insomnia kept replaying that morbid memory. It was like you were strapped to a chair, wooden pegs clipped on your eyelids and pulled taut to keep them open, forcing you to watch the tape of Tuesday afternoon over and over again. Gagged, you couldn't scream. Neither could you beg for sleep, nor for death to end your misery at long last.

Your head hung forward, eyes closed. Right when you were about to collapse onto the desk, you snapped to reality with a gasp.

'Get a grip, Y/N.' You mentally slapped yourself.

As soon as Accounting finished, you would excuse yourself to go to the bathroom, when really you planned to run to the sick bay. Their salve was surprisingly good. You would have to steal a few bottles.