❝SAD BIRDS WILL STILL SING, THE FLOWERS WILL STILL BLOOM, AND THE SUN WILL STILL RISE WITHOUT YOU❞
When an accident left Grayson Reyes in critical condition, he woke up unable to remember the brown-eyed beauty who stayed by his side for three month...
THE SCHOOL'S GOLDEN BOY, GRAYSON REYES, IS EVERYTHING I ENVY. Easily climbing the social ladder, the perfect grades, voted most popular student in school, and team captain of the football team. It sounds cliché, but this is the reality of it. While being his friend since the first grade, I have always tried to be someone who I'm not. I hid behind a composed mask of sheer confidence, hoping that I could fit in too. I continuously feared that he would be embarrassed around me, and ultimately, throw me away. A facade where I'm free from any lingering insecurities and where social anxiety never puts me into turmoil. And as hard as I seem to try to find a place, it strays further away from my grasp. The moment Grayson disappeared from my side, so did all the people who called me a friend. He has been missing for two weeks, and it's been three days since I saw him. The only time I'm spoken to is when they ask if I've seen Grayson lately or if he'll be returning soon.
And while his presence is soothing, his absence is relieving. I no longer need to pretend to act a certain way because I'm terrified of being looked down upon. As much as I want to push away, something keeps me from doing so—perhaps, it stems from my fear of loneliness.
"Hey, Kalea," the voice coos, tapping my shoulder rather impatiently. "Have you seen Grayson?" Turning to face her, I have grown to dislike the sweetness of her tone, especially when I know it's crafted with impeccable lies.
With a hint of venom in her words, I retort back innocently, "Aren't you dating him, or did he already break up with you?" The pit in my stomach deepens, and I suddenly feel nauseated. Ideally, I want to run away. Far away. Social interaction isn't for me, and it never will be. "D-Don't try and pretend to be friendly with me after what you did."
The halls growly eerily quiet as students begin listening to our conversation. Whispers incoherently circulate about what Trixie may have done. But everyone, including me, knows that whatever horrible things she does, it doesn't matter because they adore her. Desperate to fit in, they will do what they do best - trampling on anyone if that means travelling up the social ladder. "Didn't you force yourself on him when he was drunk last Friday?" She asks with the corner of her lips curling upward, "I worried about him, so I made sure to take a photo for evidence. You can check my recent Twitter post if you don't believe me."
It takes less than a few minutes for the photo to scatter. And when I receive a message from an unknown number, surely enough, it certainly looks as though I'm forcing him to kiss me as his hands supposedly are trying to push me away. My arms are tangled around his neck, his hands by my shoulders. In reality, though, he was moving my hair out of the way. "So? This is your valid evidence? Grayson can and will confirm that it's lies. False allegations are a crime, by the way." I watch as her expression drops, jaw stiffening as she thinks of things to say. In the end, she remains silent, and I take this as an opportunity to weave a way through the crowd. When I sense the eyes following, my chest begins to tighten up, and I feel an attack arising.
Rounding the corner, out of sight, I sprint towards the furthest abandoned classroom, thankful when I find it unlocked. Shutting it softly, I collapse to the ground, hiding my head between my legs. I cradle myself closer, lightheaded and hands uncontrollably shaking. My breaths come out as ragged gasps, and I dig my fingernails into my palm with all my strength. Directing all my attention toward my hands, I swallow the sob and try to calm myself down. I hate pretending. I hate acting. But even so, I want to fit in too. I'm nothing without him, and I hate that most of all. I wish Grayson were here.
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I PRAY THAT THE DAY GETS BETTER, BUT LUCK IS NEVER ON MY SIDE. My throat closes and tightens up as I face the hospital doors. The memories of my mother lying in a cold sweat and unmoving creep into my thoughts. Too vividly do I remember the pale hands trying to lift themselves feebly. Standing outside, I clutch my jacket closer in hopes that it will fill the warmth I lost. It's taking every muscle in my body to prevent myself from running away. I bite my nails nervously, recalling the phone call I had with Grayson's mother. Grayson got into a possibly life-threatening accident that left him in critical condition. The thought of Grayson suffering throws away my previous anxiety, and I swing up the doors. With my heart pounding erratically, I fiddle with the silver tennis bracelet as I make my way toward the reception desk. "H-Hi, Grayson Reyes, where is he? Is he okay?"
"What is your relationship with him?" She gently smiles, typing away nimbly.
"I-I," my voice trails off. Panic suddenly engulfs me, the corners of my eyes burning up with tears.
The receptionist observes my expression before placing a small pink squishy in front of me, "Take a deep breath," she guides softly, "Is any of his family members here currently? Having them confirm your identity is also an option."
"H-His mom," I hiccup, squeezing the squishy, "Yu-Yuna Reyes."
"Focus on your breathing, okay? I'll have someone find her. If it will put you at ease, Grayson is said to be in stable condition now."
True to her words, they ease me more than I like to admit, but I'm terrified of how Grayson will react. I pinch the inner skin of my wrist, overwhelmed by the guilt. First, it was my mother, and next, Grayson. "Kalea, dear, is that you?"
My head snaps in the direction where the voice calls, my lips quivering at the sight of an exhausted Yuna Reyes. "I'm sorry," I murmur, trying my very best to keep my voice from shaking, unable to look her in the eye. And when I feel her warm arms embrace me, the tears I have been holding back burst. "Is he-is Grayson okay?"
My question is left unanswered, and I can feel my heart thumping against my chest wildly. I can't breathe. Her silence engulfs me as she lightly tugs at my hand to follow her to the hospital room. Room two-oh-four. I clasp my hands together, preparing all the things I'll say to him, and when his mother slips the door open, I feel my heart stop entirely.
Unmoving, pale, and connected to a series of wires. "He-He's in a coma," Yuna finally says. "I'll let you have a moment." She shuts the door behind me, letting me fully absorb all of this by myself.
I stumble towards his body, "W-What is this?" I cover my mouth, resisting the urge to throw up. I feel numb, shrugging his shoulder as light as possible, afraid that I might hurt him. "This isn't funny, Grayson. Wake up." His body is stiff, and as much as I hate to admit it, he looks as though he might be dead. The only thing that seems to reassure me in the slightest is the monotonous heart monitor.
"Please. I'm sorry," I apologize profusely. Holding his cold hands, I stare at his closed eyes. I'm a terrible friend, and I caused this. If I had been more understanding, perhaps he wouldn't have left. I drove him off, and this was the consequence of my actions. I shouldn't have told him I was disappointed. That I hated him and never wanted to see him again. "Wake up, please?" And deep down, I really do expect his eyes to snap open with his signature cheeky grin that tells me it was all just a bad joke. But, this is reality, and instead, I'm greeted with an eerie silence that makes me unbelievably sick to my stomach.
