Beyond The Crash

CHAPTER 33 | [CAMERA]

A Distorted Lens_2

What could describe the best time of his life?

Different answers can be given to this simple question.

Could it be when he first got praised for doing something? When he first learnt he was good at his new hobby? When he figured he was in çøŋťřøł?

Or mayhap is something else. Something entirely different.

But he described the best time of his life was when he first met her.
He had to keep that feeling- had to keep that image.

Easily said, his best moments were with her. Whether it was only him who felt the same, he treasured it.

Out of all the friends he'd kept, she was the most genuine. They'd all use him for his name, but she? She was different. And he liked that.

Words can not begin to explain that she was his light, the only genuine person in the world full of fake.

Fake.

A word he knew all too well. The smiles, the gestures, their mannerisms, all were fake.

No real- genuine attention given him. All but her. Because she was different.

Not even those close to him, or those who claim to be close to him tried to understand him. Nor the primary or the secondary.

As usual, they shower him with gifts money could buy because it was all they knee to do. They made life easy for him... but was that really what he wanted? Needed?

One case after another, unsure if he could really rely on them.
But sure of one thing. He wanted to be a part of that light. Her light.

But could he really have protected that said precious light?

*#/#*

Lilley sighed for the third time. No calls. No messages. Nothing from Atticus.
It wasn't like she expected him to update her on whatever was up with him, but was surprised he didn't update her on... anything at all.

She rested her head on the desk, partly giving up, yet her eyes held a different hope that he would just walk through the door and explain himself.

Seems rather unlikely, though. She grumbled to herself.

"Lilley?"
She sat up straight in an instant like nothing had happened with a default smile on her face.

"You're not going for your next class?" Nicky inquired with a raised brow.

She dryly chuckled. "Right. Next class..." she searched her table and the locker beneath as if looking for something.

"What's wrong?" Nicky asked, straight forward. His voice still had that warmth, but not the same type that was with her in the hospital.

She slowly looked up at him.
"Nothing... should anything be wrong?"

He didn't say anything right away, and although he still had a friendly look on, she saw a look of suspicion in his eyes.
"Well... you seem to be looking for... something,"

"Oh, right, it's nothing," she paused. "I mean, what do I expect?" She paused again and abruptly stood up, leaning over the table, close to Nicky.
"If, hypothetically, I beg the art teacher for a bit more... um, time. Knowing him since middle school. Do you think he'll grant my request?"

Nicky blinked, taken aback a bit before answering, "Well, if you have a concrete reason, I think he'll let it slide,"

"How about 'my partner isn't exactly being cooperative'? Think he'll agree?"