I couldn't really gauge how Cameron was feeling. He was upset, initially, then sad, and now he was stuck in some limbo between anger and understanding. Chris and Joe begged us a billion times to tell them what was wrong but, for obvious reasons, we just told them to mind their damn business. They got the hint after a while.
I was terrified walking into lunch. My eyes did their automatic sweep of the lunch hall, and came up short. He wasn't even sitting away from his normal table – he just wasn't there. I guessed he was just having lunch in his classroom – which made sense, considering the very hard to conceal damage he'd caused himself. I winced involuntarily. It'd been literally a day since I'd seen him, but I was already going crazy with worry. I hadn't texted him or called him, because it didn't feel right. That look he gave me before I left was so expressionless and blank that it left no doubt in my mind what he meant by it – that Saturday night didn't change a damn thing.
I actually let out a small groan as the bell rang, indicating that we had to go to our final lesson. I didn't know what it'd be like, but I imagined that he'd be sitting there, probably wearing a thick sweater of some sort, with those big, hazel eyes darting around the room to see if anyone was suspicious of him. I wondered if he'd look at me, or if he'd ignore me all lesson. I wondered if he'd-
"Ah, sweet, substitute!" Chris beamed. I stopped dead in my tracks, my mouth going dry.
Substitute? Why did we need a substitute? Where was Gerard? Cameron stopped next to me and put a comforting hand on my shoulder.
"Do you know where-"
"No. I don't." I said softly, looking down at my shoes. He sighed and rubbed my shoulder soothingly before herding me into the classroom. The teacher at the desk was a fairly young, fairly attractive woman, her black hair falling around her shoulders. I tensed when she looked through his drawers, trying to find a pen, and fought the urge to scream at her to not touch his stuff. Since there wasn't a teacher, there wasn't assigned seating, so Cameron sat next to me.
"Hey, c'mon, he's probably fine." He murmured. I looked at him, eyes wide with panic.
"Probably?" I asked. He sighed and leaned against me, and I draped one arm over him uselessly.
"Y'know you could just text him."
"No, I can't. He made it clear that he didn't want to see me."
"By looking at you? Don't you think that's a bit immature?" he said incredulously. I sighed and pulled my phone out, hating that he was right.
When I did, though, I saw I already had a message from him. My heart raced – it was sent about half an hour before.
FROM: Gerard.
(1:36pm)Hey. You'll find this out in a few minutes on your own, but I'm not at school today, or any day for a while. You're right, I need help.
I'll miss you every day, but please don't contact me until I contact you. I guess we both need space, right?
Mikey is doing fine and sends his love. As do I. Always.
Tears sprang into my eyes at his message, and I had to read it again a few times. He wasn't going to be there? At all? My heart fell even deeper in my stomach and I rested my head against the table, not even trying to hide the fact I was crying.
"Is he okay?" asked the substitute gently. Cameron wrapped an arm around me.
"He's not feeling very well."
"Oh. Should he go to the nurse?" she asked. Cameron was silent, waiting for me to reply.
"No, I'm okay." I murmured. She looked at me concernedly, but carried on teaching anyway.
"D'you wanna talk about it?" Cam asked softly. I handed him the phone, and he sucked in a breath.
"I'm sorry, Frank."
