Help our souls // bws

The solution

(Bug update, for those who got the notification of this chapter before the two others, read the collapse before!!!)

The world was so big yet all my thoughts were still about you. I typed the same message again and again before deleting it. I lifted my head up and stared at Brad's back, two rows in front of me. The curls hung heavily on the back of his neck, due to their unusual length. I thought it was too long, but I wouldn't dare telling him, not now that he didn't even look at me. It'd been a week and he fled every times I tried to have a conversation with him, or even just to ask him how he was. He did not reply my texts and I came to the conclusion that he never would. Utterly avoiding communication wouldn't make things better. Unfortunately, I couldn't find the courage to insist even more. I breathed deeply and kept staring at him, the voice of my teacher flying through my ears. Exams approached quickly, too quickly. Next week, I'd be seating for hours in front of a blank page, not knowing what to write down, how to assemble my thoughts, how to do it good enough to pass.

Chloe, who was sat next to him, devoured him with the eyes. She twisted her blond hair around her finger and licked her lips. Her other hand slowly moved to the back of his neck, covered by hair. My stomach turned upside down and my heart burnt in flames. This should be me. I should be the one playing with his hair. I was torn apart by anger and sadness. As hard and painful it was to watch, my eyes wouldn't obey my brain. The satisfied smile on her lips made me want to become a wolf and rip her throat with my fangs. Her fingers played with the curly hair of his. For a second, I saw his muscles stiffened through the back of his white shirt. A jolt crossed his broad shoulders. I wanted to see his facial expression. I needed to see if he was smiling at her gesture or on the contrary, if he was frowning his brows, letting the wrinkle on his nose appear. I wondered if he bit his lips in pleasure or in annoyance. My blood boiled in my veins. I dug my nails in the palm of my hand. She seemed to play with his hair for eternity.

In a hasty gesture, he turned towards her and brushed away her hand from his neck. A flicker of anger crossed his face but he mostly looked confused. Chloe's face blew up in anger and deception. She then turned her head around and glared at me. Her eyes like thunders, she probably dreamed about burning me to death right there, right now. Usually, I'd smile, satisfied. Though, I didn't feel like it. I imagined what crossed his head, in vain. It took me so much time to read through him and now he appeared to be a complete blank page to me. The plaster holding back my heart from falling in pieces was being removed a little more. I'd fight until it completely is though. I will get him back, I will get back every thing I let go. I jerked as the bell rang. Quickly, I collected my notebook and pens before dashing after Bradley and his so well-known clump of hair. Tumbling a few times before getting in the hallway, I called his name. His shoulders jerked but he didn't look back. Grumbling, I ran to get to him. Having shorts legs never helped but then, it felt like he was always a thousand steps in front of me, like there were a tremendous gulf between us. I breathed loudly as my fingers gripped the back of his white t-shirt. "Brad... We need to t-talk..." I sputtered and pulled his shirt so that he'd face me. A jolt of fear spread through my body, electroshock running down my spine as I saw his face. His skin was paler than usual, his veins were more noticeable, his eyes looked darker as if they lost their flare. They blazed with anger, I thought. He looked terrible and scaring. A lump formed in my throat and my heart tore apart. I opened my mouth but nothing would cross the barrier of my lips. I love you, I'm sorry, talk to me, tell me your thoughts, fight for us. Nothing came out except incomprehensible noises that sounded like whimpers. I looked down. The strength with which I gripped his sleeve began to ache my arm's muscle. My knuckles whitened. I hadn't smell his scent, I hadn't been that near to him, I hadn't seen him for what felt like eternity. Spasms took over my body and many tears threatened to pour down. He took something in his pocket and handed me a brochure, without a word. He waited until my shaking fingers held it. Immediately, he jerked his hand away. My heart missed a beat. Butterflies in my belly turned into mini sharp knives cutting deep my inner skin. Blinking several times, I distinguished an unfolded paper with the inscription on it; in big letters, the only two words I could see were PSYCHIATRIC CLINIC.