Sparkle | Saltburn

06

As the first-year exams approached, the atmosphere on campus grew increasingly tense. Students huddled in study groups, pouring over textbooks and notes, trying to cram as much information as possible. Phoebe, however, was in a state of growing panic. Without Michael's help, she was struggling to make sense of her coursework. Oliver's manipulations had successfully driven a wedge between her and Michael, leaving her feeling isolated and overwhelmed.

Phoebe sat at her desk, a pile of textbooks and notes spread out before her. She stared at the pages, her eyes glazing over as the words blurred together. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't grasp the material. Her frustration mounted, tears of desperation welling up in her eyes. She began to doubt herself, hearing Michael's harsh words echo in her mind. Maybe he was right.

The thought gnawed at her, her self-esteem crumbling under the weight of her doubts. She buried her face in her hands, the stress and anxiety becoming too much to bear. Her shoulders shook as she tried to stifle her sobs, feeling utterly hopeless.

Suddenly, a gentle knock on her open dorm room door startled her. She looked up, her eyes red and puffy, to see Michael standing hesitantly in the doorway. He looked concerned, his expression softening as he took in her distraught state.

"Phoebe?" He said quietly, stepping into the room, "Do you need help?"

For a moment, Phoebe just stared at him, her emotions a tumultuous mix of relief and uncertainty. She nodded slowly, unable to find her voice.

Michael approached her cautiously, pulling a chair up beside her. He sat down, keeping a respectful distance, and looked at her with a mixture of guilt and compassion.

Phoebe's lip quivered, and she whispered, "I think I am stupid."

Michael's heart broke at her words. He could see the pain and doubt in her eyes, and he hated himself for being the cause of it. He reached out, gently taking her hand in his.

"No, you're not," He said firmly, "You're not stupid. I was angry and frustrated, and I lashed out. It was wrong, and I regret it more than you can imagine."

Phoebe sniffled, looking down at their joined hands, "I can't do this. I can't understand any of it. I've tried and tried, but it's just not working."

Michael squeezed her hand reassuringly, " Let me help you."

Phoebe looked up at him, her eyes searching his for any sign of insincerity. But all she saw was genuine concern and a willingness to make amends. She nodded again, this time with a bit more conviction.

Michael smiled softly, a wave of relief washing over him.

"Alright," He said, moving closer to her desk, "Let's start from the beginning."

Phoebe slid her notes towards him, her hands still trembling slightly. Michael glanced over the material, quickly assessing where she might need the most help. He took a deep breath, determined to be patient and kind.

They spent the next few hours working through the material together. Michael explained concepts in simple, straightforward terms, patiently answering Phoebe's questions and encouraging her when she struggled. Gradually, she began to understand, the fog of confusion lifting ever so slightly.

But the tension between them was undeniable, simmering just beneath the surface. Michael's lingering guilt and Phoebe's residual hurt added a charged undercurrent to their interactions. Every time their hands brushed or their eyes met, it was like a jolt of electricity, a reminder of the unresolved emotions between them.

As the hours passed, the room grew quieter, the only sound the soft murmur of their voices and the rustle of pages. Phoebe found herself glancing at Michael more and more, trying to gauge his mood. Despite his helpfulness, she couldn't forget the cruel things he had said. Yet, part of her still yearned for the closeness they once shared.