Chapter 8

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You curl up in the corner of the room with a pillow, the side of your face planted on the cushion as you scroll through social media and images, ignoring the constant notifications at the top of your screen and the occasional calls that take up the entirety of it. It guilts you to know how much you're sulking despite the situation ultimately being your fault. The twisting feeling increases, and you can't take it anymore.

When the next call comes in, which doesn't take very long, you click the green accept button and bring the phone to your ear. You sit up more, letting the back of your head lean in the corner.

'Hello? (Y/N)?' comes Kid's voice, soaked with worry.

You wait a moment before responding. "Yeah, it's me." Your voice is quiet and scratchy, barely recognisable.

'Oh God, (Y/N), I thought something happened to you.'

Another shard of guilt strikes you. "Sorry, I just... I really just don't feel like talking."

'Just listen, then. Just for a second, okay? Look, I'm sorry. I'm really fucking sorry for all this shit I pulled, I really mean it.' His voice and tone confirms his genuinity. 'I'll make it up to you, (Y/N). I promise, just trust me this last time.'

'Kid, get over here. This was your idea and this is your shit to fix,' Killer's voice calls from the background, along with loud clangs of metal hitting metal you didn't notice before.

'Hold on, dammit! I'm on the phone, (Y/N) just answered! Just give me a second! Alright, here's what I've been planning.'

He explains to you his thought process and everything he's thought of, and telling you how it's foolproof. 'I know, it's a little... bribe-ish, but it's not like it's bad. I dunno the dude well, but I know a few things. Besides, I think," he hesitates, "We both owe him," he finally gets out, nearly spitting the words out like poison.

"Yeah, I think it'd go fine, I'm just worried about the whole thing. I mean, tomorrow... it'll be too late, don't you think?"

'Kid, get your ass over here,' Killer repeats harsher.

'I'm calming, Jesus! Calm your tits! Hey, I gotta go now, I'll text ya later.'

Before you have a chance to say goodbye he hangs up, and a stagnant buzz rings in your ear. You let your phone drop onto the floor.

The way he explained it makes it seem like it'll go fine, but you can't help but worry, running through the likelier chance everything will be for naught, and anxiety creeps in and rots your mind.

_______

Despite his feelings clashing violently together, Law tries his best to appear normal as he walks into the English classroom, which isn't too difficult considering he's usually sulky anyway. He knows he has no right to be jealous, but that doesn't mean he can just disable his feelings, as much as he'd like to.

He still earns a few strange looks from people, but they all just brush it off. They probably assume his previous behaviour was some little fluke---a small bump in the road.

Law thought it would be a challenge to avoid and ignore you, but he counts himself ready for your bugging. He wonders when you'll end up getting into class, but as he comes to think about it, you hadn't called or message dhim once.

Yesterday, he thinks bitterly, remembering the scene he saw play out. How stupid am I to get worked up over some stupid incident? Some stupid thoughts, a stupid happening, a stupid lineup of how things went. An unfair world with unfair people and unfair feelings.

Law doesn't care how unjustified or hypocritical everything he feels and thinks is, he just knows the thoughts and emotions are there and he doesn't care to fix them.

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