‘ I’ll do it, Adrien.’

  ‘ I will do it. Do it.’

  What was wrong with her? What the hell had she agreed to?

  Raven pinched her eyes shut, exhaling softly, before her gaze found the window.

  It wasn’t like she didn’t have a plan. But there was a reason you were supposed to make decisions with a clear head.

  The scenery outside appeared to be the opposite of Raven—calm and collected.

  A little blue-black bird flew around, twirling between the trees, carried by the wind.

  “Could be worse,” muttered Raven, eyes trailing after the bird’s moves instead of scribbles on her paper.

  Moments passed as Raven sat in silence in English Lit., accompanied by the rustling of the leaves.

  When she saw the former content bird flying against a tree, distracted by the loud horn of a car—‘No. This was the worst.’

  Sighing heavily, she turned her head away, eying her empty paper.

  Raven was currently in class, trying to get through an essay.

  But every time she got close to stringing a sentence together, a soft chuckle cut through her thoughts—feather-light, easy.

  Still, it hadn’t left her mind since it had entered. Not on the way home. Not while she patched up both new and old. Not even in her fustful sleep.

  So she had reverted to looking outside the classroom. Nonetheless, she had heard gentle laughter mixed with the loud honk of the car.

  Raven nibbled on her lip, spinning her pen the way her thoughts spun—circular, restless—crunched into her desk.

  Her body still ached. Her mind still pulsed, steady but dull—beat for beat.

  Raven flicked her tongue. It wasn’t like the decision had been made in a completely reckless moment. It rather had way more nuance.

  Yes, Adrien might’ve acted like an overbearing puppy, but he hadn’t overstepped, never pushed harder than he could.

  He tested the water, dared the waves, but stopped at riptides. For instance, he talked her ears off but didn’t really seem to mind her replies—in her situation—the lack of it.

  There was also the fact that there appeared to have been a change in his approaches—when he chose to speak to her and where—which made it slightly easier to breathe for her.

  Raven closed her eyes, inhaling the light lemonish note.

  The vision of a blond boy on a beach appeared inside her mind—the faceless boy played with the water, trying to swim in it.

  But whenever he came too close, the calm water swayed, pushing him out. The sun arose and it fell, the moon did too, yet the boy was there.

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  Raven blinked hard, the image disappearing. ‘This would be an endless cycle.’

  It was unnervingly annoying, yet Raven knew he would not stop—not before he had dived into the ocean.

  She could see that now. Not happily, but clearer.

  Raven scrunched up her nose, brows furrowed.

  He had stood up for her, someone who did not deserve it in the least.

  He did something so alien.

  It was similar to the experience of swallowing linctus—thick, bitter, wrapped with a soft, lingering trace of sweetening.

  It was an almost forgotten sensation, a distant feeling of a moment where a child was in pain and found fleeting comfort.

  And god knows Raven had been deprived of that way too soon. However, it didn’t mean it was a necessity to survive.

  The ink seeped deeper into the paper, leaving a noticeable black patch.

  Her pen halted, her eyes fluttering.

  ‘No one defended something he did not want.’

  Her gaze straightened. ‘However, the intentions were another story.’

  And Raven had tried. She really had.

  Yet some people just wanted the experience.

  Like breaking down the outsider walls. Being that one exception.

  And some even genuinely believed they could change the person—save them—and Adrien seemed to be one of them.

  He was too persistent to be completely genuine, in her opinion.

  Not even Adelaine; she wasn’t even sure if Rashta or the Doc. would have tried that hard if Raven had acted from the beginning like that—just to get to know her.

  This didn’t mean he was a bad person or so. He just wasn’t her person.

  Raven’s breath hitched, her fingers tightening around the pen.

  This uncertainty—the fact she didn’t know if anyone living was ever truly going to be her person. ‘—Probably not.’

  Raven felt her throat tightening, swallowing hard, soothing it a little.

  Adrien wouldn’t be the first to try and surely not the last to fail.

  Because there existed a really funny phenomenon:

  If people told you often enough who you were, you started to think. You started to wonder if there wasn’t some truth behind the words—helpless, broken, evil, murder.

  And thinking was dangerous for people like Raven, whose inner voices could arise to a riptide in their own sea of thoughts and emotions.

  Her stomach cramped and heat spread. Raven released the pen, searching for a bottle with her left hand inside her bag.

  When she found it, she took a large sip from the water bottle—the purple-black bottle.

  The cool water worked like a cool patch, relieving some tension.

  Fiddling with the cap of her bottle, she thought, ‘It doesn’t matter though. I don’t care.’

  She made the best of it. She would play his game by her rules until the end came—as it always did.

  Let him think he got what he wanted. Let him close—but not in. Let him linger until he had his fill.

  Not a friend. Not an enemy. Nobody. Let him see for himself: there was nothing here. Just Raven.

  It was a deal with a built-in expiration. People like him were always chasing and in search of something.

  But just as quick to lose interest if what they found was not what they wanted.

  And Raven wasn’t something people wanted—at least not living and breathing well.

  She was endured for sure, on rare occasion maybe even temporarily accepted, but never truly wanted.

  Not since that fateful day.

  Her stomach started to ache again. Raven took another sip, awaiting the coldness to settle in before she took another one just to be sure.

  It was a rational plan—formed in a half-sick, half-clear haze. So why did it still feel like she’d been played?

  Her mind had to be tricking her. It had to be.

  After all, he earned it—

  The bell rang.

  ‘Well, fuck.’

  Raven gave her empty page, full of black patches and mindless scribbles, one last glance before stuffing it into her bag and melting into the crowd.

  ‘Pathetic.’

  As she made her way through the halls, silence clung to her like the same words she hadn’t said.

  —————————-?

  Lunch break was in full swing when she spotted them—Adelaine, Adrien, and Aiden by the tree.

  It still sat wrong with her that they were there, at their place. Not the same unease, but close enough that it stung—sharp and sudden, like a bee sting.

  Adelaine looked like everything was normal again, and that the boys being there was just… normal too.

  Although that was Adelaine. Always too quick to get comfortable with people she barely knew.

  ‘Couldn’t be me.’

  “Ravenn—Rave, I missed you, sweetheart! Feels like I haven’t seen you in forever,” Adelaine beamed as she threw her arms around her.

  Raven flinched slightly, shoulders tensing.

  She wasn’t one for affection, and the fresh bandages she had put on this morning didn’t exactly help.

  But Adelaine’s warmth was hard to reject. Even now.

  Someone cleared his throat. “Not to be that person,” came Adrien’s voice, smooth as ever, “but Aiden and I are still here. And time’s kind of ticking.”

  Of course it was him. Smiling like he was trying to outshine the sun—carefree with a hunch of innocence on the surface, but those ridiculous rich eyes always gave him away.

  Adelaine quickly pulled back, face flushed.

  ‘So embarrassment is still a thing here,’ noted Raven, suppressing a faint curl of her lips.

  “Ah—sorry, guys! Didn’t mean to make you feel left out.” Her voice pitched slightly higher, hands fidgeting.

  She really did look like a deer caught in red lights. Almost cartoonish in her panic.

  ‘Well if karma isn’t a bitch,’ Raven smirked inwardly, rolling her eyes as she gave the boys a slight nod.

  They were all standing now in a clumsy, uneven circle.

  The boys looked amused. Adrien’s eyes widened a little—like he was surprised Raven had acknowledged him at all.

  ‘Does he really think I’d ignore him after yesterday?’ Tightening her ponytail, tongue swiping over her teeth, ‘He showed more care than most people do in a year. Even I’m not that heartless.’

  ‘Not that it changed anything,’ mused Raven, peeking at Aiden.

  Aiden, who seemed to be off in his own world again, didn’t say much.

  But it was obvious—he didn’t seem to mind Adelaine being around, being Adelaine.

  Thank you for reading. See you next Sunday!

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