Where The Light Doesn't Reach

5.

Today I have to go to class.

Over the weekend I happily lounged around and didn't do anything, holing myself up in my room as usual. I think I figured out that I'd definitely love to go into a coma and just let the days pass by in my sleep, not having to worry about death or any of my current problems.

Sounds nice.

But now I have to walk into my first class and face the one person I've been avoiding:

Gray.

I tried to convince my mom that I don't feel good and I should stay home, but she didn't fall for it and angrily yelled at me to go get dressed.
So I'm back here, early as usual, and am surprised to see that I'm not the only one here.

Dread settles heavily over me as I make my way towards the desk next to him, the boy's sharp eyes watching my every move.

I think he knows.

The thought makes me tremble, anxiety filling my chest as I try my best not to overthink or go into a panic attack right now.

I'm hoping that the professor's presence means he won't bring anything up, but then - as if listening to my thoughts - the teacher suddenly gets up and tells us that he forgot to grab some paperwork and rushes out the door, leaving us alone.

Fuck.

"Carter..."

I shoot the tall boy a warning, hoping he gets the hint.

He sighs.

"I was worried about you, you know."

The dark haired boy stares into my eyes, a soft expression on his face. He appears genuinely concerned, and that affects me even if I don't want it to.

"Yeah? Well no one asked you to." I spit back, not wanting to act like this but knowing he's already gotten too close and I have to push him away.

He scoffs.

"I know that, but I like you Carter. I can't help but worry for people I care about."

There's a sharp twinge in my chest, and I look away as I hide my shaking hands in my pockets. My face warms, and I cringe at the next few words to leave my mouth.

"Well, good thing we aren't friends, so you can stop worrying." I tell him, and I can hear him pause for a second before continuing.

"Carter, you were gone for about a week—"

I snap.

"So? It's none of your business, alright? Just stop talking to me." My words are meant to sound intimidating, but my voice cracks and I don't know what expression I'm wearing. What I said is true but also the complete opposite—

I want him to pry, but I also don't. I want him to know, but I want him to stay far away from me.

It's confusing and it hurts, so it's best if he just leaves me alone.

"Is this because of what happened?" He asks, making my eye twitch.

I glare.

"No."

Despite my answer, he doesn't look convinced.

"Really? Because I think it is. Just so you know, I haven't told anyone."

He rests his head on his hand while watching me, possibly trying to read my reaction.

He's too calm.

"That's because there's nothing to tell. Nothing happened, I just passed out. End of story."