Enough | ✔️

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◈ѕlaтer нarтley◈

"Okay, I should get going now, D," Lucas declares with his signature smile, downing the last inch of his coffee and adjusting his jacket.

I look up from the froth embellishing the top of my steaming mug, "Ah, already?"

He laughs, "I don't think they'll postpone their graduation for my sake, man."

Rolling my eyes at his antics, I force out a smile, already feeling the icy chill of isolation creep along my spine. It's hard to pretend that a thousand and one memories don't come to mind when he mentions Harrow.

"Don't forget to come round to my place later on, yeah?" he reminds.

I nod. Earlier this week he asked me to come around to his place to help him decide on some home decor. It was an awfully vague request and an awfully not-like-Lucas activity, but I'm putting it down to the fact that Hannah is most likely moving in with him after she graduates tonight.

"Alright. Drive safe," I nod in goodbye as he stands and chuckles at my cautious words.

He slides out our booth, his voice just one among the many in the cafe.

"You can come along, you know. It's open to all friends and family. I'm sure there's someone you want to see graduate after all her hard work," Lucas hints as I give him a lethargic look.

I lean forwards towards the table, resting my head in my hand, "Lucas, stop mentioning her. It's all you've been doing at least once a week since I left Harrow. You know, it's exhausting."

He holds his hands up in surrender, looking taken aback.

"My bad - didn't expect you to take it that way. I just thought you would want to see Hannah. See you round, D."

He leaves, nonchalantly running a hand through his curly hair.

Hannah?

I sigh. No blind person could have missed the mischief in his eyes.

Distracting me from the monotony of life, my phone vibrates with a text in my pocket. I remove it, seeing a reminder pop up.

Time for work! Your dream came true.

I close my eyes briefly at my past self's encouraging message.

Only partly.

ㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡ

● qυorra neverѕea ●

I stare down at the certificate in my hands, unable to stop a minute smile from breaching my face.

The glossy ink glimmers, even in the dim lighting of my room, supplying enough warmth in my heart to keep me from shivering due to the cold breeze from the window.

Graduation was anti-climactic. You stand up in a too-loud room and walk across a too-high stage to get a too-flimsy piece of card that congratulates you for surviving the past few years of your academic life. And yet, that tiny action has so much meaning behind it. So many tears, so much frustration, so much struggle, and so much hard work. So much was backing up the moment I just experienced two hours ago.

I had to leave the party to keep the tears at bay. Now they fall freely, my solitude comforting.

I leave my certificate on my desk and wander over to my bed with shaky breaths, vision blurred with unexplainable tears. I don't know what I feel. I'm happy because all of that struggle wasn't for nothing. I was forced into coming to Harrow University to sort my life out, and I did exactly that. More than that. But I'm also sad. Frightened. Worried.