Perfectly Arranged

-45- Day 11

[Day 11]

Third person's pov 

It was afternoon, students were on their way out. The hallway was a symphony of noise – the clatter of trays, the excited chatter of students, the muffled sounds of laughter. But for Freen, it was a cacophony of anticipation, each second a torturous tick of the clock. She stood by the window, her hands clasped tightly behind her back, her eyes glued to the entrance.  Every time the door swung open, her heart leaped into her throat, only to sink back down with a thud when it wasn't Becky.  She had to see her.  She had to talk to her. 

Finally, Becky appeared.  It was like the entire hallway dimmed, and all that mattered was the way Becky walked, her head slightly bowed, her shoulders slumped, a sense of sadness radiating from her.  Freen's breath hitched.  This was it.

Becky was tired, and there was a tension in her walk that Freen recognized.  It was the tension of someone carrying a heavy heart, someone who was still hurting.  Freen's heart ached for her.

As Becky got closer, Freen took a deep breath and stepped into the hallway, her hand reaching out instinctively.  She brushed her fingers against Becky’s arm, the touch light but firm.  Becky stopped, startled, her eyes widening in surprise, as if she hadn’t even noticed Freen there.

“Becky,” Freen whispered, her voice barely above a breath. “Come with me.”

She didn't wait for a response.  She couldn't.  The words were a desperate plea, a desperate hope.  Freen gently pulled Becky along, her grip firm but not forceful, never wanting to hurt her.  Becky stumbled, surprised, her initial protest swallowed by the urgency in Freen's eyes.

" hey, where are we going? " 

" you'll find out " 

" If this is an another useless and worthless thing, i'm telling you Freen— " 

" I never did any worthless and useless thing for you, because it's not what you deserve. "

Freen said while walking fastly holding Becky's hand. Becky was quiet by the sudden words. 

Freen led her through the throngs of students, ignoring the curious glances, the whispers, the questions.  All that mattered was getting Becky to a one place that is perfect for her words—the beach.  They reached Freen's car and Freen asked her get in. 

" hop in. " 

" where are we going— " 

" hop in, bec. " 

" it's almost the end of the day— " 

" just for now, trust me once again, becky. " 

+++++ 

The beach was their favorite place, a place where they wanted to be in and the place where they wanted to unwind. A place where Freen felt she could be honest, vulnerable, without fear of judgment.

The beach was a stark contrast to the bustling hallway. It was quiet, peaceful, the only sounds the waves crashing against the shore and the cry of gulls overhead.  The air was crisp, filled with the scent of salt and seaweed.