Window

12.

Emma's leg bounced vigorously, her nails drumming rapidly on the desk. The cold chair felt stiff beneath her, the hard surface pressing uncomfortably against her. Leaning forward and resting her elbows on the desk, she hoped it would relieve the suffocating feeling that the classroom was creating. But to her disappointment, it didn't. 

Shifting her position once again, Emma let her eyes fall on the empty desk next to hers. A soft ache grew in her chest, a long sigh escaping through her lips. 

She hadn't thought he'd give up that easily. She'd thought he would show up at her window again, begging for her to forgive him. She'd thought he would pester her in class until she could resist him no longer. 

But it was an all too cruel surprise when he didn't. He didn't come to her window, not again. He didn't even come to class, not to the one's that he shared with her. It was like he had up and vanished, like he no longer existed. 

Tearing her eyes away from the empty desk, Emma ran her hands over her face before tucking her hair behind her ears. "Let it go" Emma muttered under her breath, reminding herself that this had been her choice, in one form or another. So it was time for her to reap the consequences. 

Emma let her eyes fall shut, her ears tuning into the various conversations that buzzed on around her. The gossip of Dean and Jack's fight was still the hot piece of news, Emma catching various students discussing the drama. It made her eyes roll, and earned a frustrated sigh. 

The sound of footsteps rose from beneath the loud chatter, Emma's eyes shifting around to find the source.  Dean stumbled into the classroom, his hair sticking up in every direction, his backpack slung over one shoulder. A crumpled piece of paper was gripped in his hand, the other hand running over his tired face. 

His walk was sloppy, his knees threatening to give out with each step. When he finally reached his desk, he collapsed down into the seat with a groan, his backpack still attached to his back. Slapping the piece of paper down on the desk, it was revealed to Emma that he had failed a math quiz, one that she was sure he'd known the answers to. 

Taking a deep breath, Emma dared to look at his face. A fresh, fat, purple bruise lined his jaw, the scab on his lip finally healing over. His green eyes looked dark, making the red lines that streaked the white even brighter. Purple bags hung heavily under his eyes, dark against his pale skin. 

"Where have you been?" Emma asked in a hushed voice, completely aware of all the kids around her that were studying him, also coming to the conclusion that something was off about him. 

Dean's glassy eyes shifted to hers, a sour smile on his face as he scoffed a laugh. "Why do you care?" he asked dryly, blinking sluggishly before turning back to face the front of the room. 

Emma's eyebrows furrowed together, annoyance sparking in her chest. "I care because I haven't heard from you in several days, and you've been skipping classes without notice. That warrants some cause for concern" Emma pressed, waiting for his eyes to meet hers. 

But they didn't, instead remaining dully focused on the white board. "Well, here I am. No need to worry" Dean muttered with a weak shrug of his shoulders. 

Rolling her eyes, an exasperated sigh escaped Emma. "Dean, stop this-this- whatever you're doing. Talk to me, would ya?" she pleaded, each vague answer escaping him only making her more nervous. Zack had told her to trust her gut, and her gut said that Dean was in trouble. 

Groaning, Dean shook his head. "You said it yourself. We're not friends. You don't want to know me, so here's your get out of jail free card. You no longer have to worry about me" Dean slurred, laughing sourly as he bit down on his lip.