Miss Incomplete | ✓

5 | He Loves Me

Stop stressing Francena, maybe he wants to talk to you about how he is very thankful that your sobo offers him udon the other day?

Doubtful.

Standing here for nearly fifteen minutes, I've paced back and forth anxiously as I stressed on what Julian wishes to talk to me about. My mind coming to many theories — none of which played in my favour.

What if he thinks Miss Incomplete is me, the copycat? What if he wants to tell me to fuck off because the whole thing was creepy? What if he wants to get a restraining order against me?

God, that means I wouldn't be able to finish senior year since I would have to be at least a hundred metre away from him! And we sit as close as a metre!

The nurse's door swings open, and I stopped in my tracks as I turn towards the direction, straightening myself up. My eyes on the door as the tall boy exited out of the office, with an ice pack in his hands; one pressing against the damaged eye.

I walk over, his undamaged eye follow me, "so, what did she say?"

"She said that you didn't hit me that hard but I should put some ice on it for a couple of days." Julian explains, and I let out a breath I held from anxiety. I thought I was going to have to pay for his medical bills or he would come and tell me that the nurse declares him blind in one eye and I would feel utterly miserable.

"Can you see? Or did I ruin your vision?" I ask, finding the need for confirmation. He's a soccer player for god's sake; if I ruined his dreams of becoming professional, I would spend the rest of my life drenching in absolute anguish.

"No, I can still see. It's just a bit blurry for now." Julian answers, a reassuring smile on his expression. I notice it wasn't forced.

Damn, he's cute.

Snap out of it, Francena!

"That's good right?" Remember the fact that Julian wanted to speak to me afterwards, maybe if I make a break for it right now, he would forget. "You don't need me anymore, right?" I begin to take long steps away from him when his voice pulled me to a halt.

"Stop," he commands, my Vans screeched against the rubber concrete floor. "I still need to talk to you."

I turn back around, facing him as he closes in the distance. His expression void of emotions that could give away what he wanted. He stops just a good feet away from me. "I want to ask for a favour."

Oh?

"Oh," I mused, etched confusion patterned my features, "with what?"

"You know those love letters my sister mentioned?" I nod, the bubbling butterflies boiling, "well, they're from this person who dubbed themselves Miss Incomplete and she's been sending me notes since sixth grade."

"You're kidding,"

"Yeah," Julian nods, not seeing the forged incredulity in my tone. He switches his hand, holding the ice pack in his left, "and I didn't know who to turn to with this..." he sighs, "I need an favour."

"What is it?" I'm not the copycat, I'm not the copycat, I'm not the copycat—

"I need your help to find her," Julian interrupts my thoughts. My gaze on the floor settled on the description of his shoes turned upwards, meeting his hopeful eyes (well, his eye).

"Wait, what?" This was not the conversation I was expecting. "Why do you want me to help you?"

"Because you're Francena Nakamura—"