gt oneshots

sbh pt. 4

I haven't seen her in three days.

Not that I've been counting. But it's weird. She's never gone more than a day or two without coming to see me. I don't know if I should be worried or not.

She's probably fine. Right? I'm overthinking this. Three days isn't that long. I shouldn't get so worked up over this.

Even if something was wrong, it's not like I could go looking for her myself. My fingers barely fit through the gaps in the vent.

But none of that matters, because she's fine and perfectly capable of taking care of herself.

Lydia is fine. She's fine and I have to stop thinking about her so much.

I think back to when I last saw her. Thursday. I was falling asleep when she appeared on the edge of my bed.

It's kind of scary, how close she can get without me even realizing it. She's like a little ninja, with a big patchy cloak instead of a mask. It looks like a quilt covered in buttons. I've never seen her without it on.

I can't remember if she stayed the night. She does that sometimes. She'll climb into my bed in the middle of the night and disappear in the morning. She says her bed back home is too cold.

Or sometimes she'll appear totally out of nowhere, pissed off or crying, and she won't even give me an explanation. She just falls into my hands and doesn't say a word.

It gives me an excuse to hug her though. She doesn't usually let me hug her that often. Or hold her. Or touch her at all, really.

God, she probably thinks I'm obsessed with her. Leaving her notes in the kitchen. Waiting all day for her to show up in my room. Thinking about hugging her when I should be focusing on goddamn calculus. I have a final exam next week.

I guess I'm just not used to having a friend. Or friends, I guess, if I'm counting Henny. Of course I'm counting Henny. The little demon.

Henny likes to make my stuff go missing all the time. Last week it was my car keys. A few days ago it was my phone. But I guess the "borrower" thing is accurate, because she always puts everything back. It's like being robbed by the tiniest, politest little thief ever.

Something rustles softly behind me. I turn around in my chair so fast I'm surprised I don't go flying out of it. But it isn't Henny's frizzy little head poking out through the hole in the vent. It isn't Lydia either.

One of the paper cranes I hung from the ceiling fell. And it brought the rest of the flock down with it. Now there's a pile of bent wings and pointed beaks at the foot of my bed. They look kind of sad, scattered across the floor like that.

I don't feel like getting up to put them back, so I turn around in my chair and try to focus on actually getting my work done instead. And not thinking about the four-inch girl who lives inside my bedroom walls. Obviously.

                                         •••

It's ten o'clock when I hear her voice.

"I need your help." She's shaking and covered in sweat. She looks as scared as she was the day I found her, frozen in place with her eyes bigger than dinner plates. She looks like she's been crying for a while.

I'm kneeling down on the floor in front of her before I even realize I got up from my chair.

"It's Henny," Her voice is so shaky I can hardly make out what she's saying. Then my heart sinks.

"She's sick."