Chapter Two
Turning the final page of the weighty paperback in my lap, I slouch back with a small smile playing on my lips.
I do love a happy ending. If only they happened in the real world too.
Taking a moment to bask in the warmth spreading through me, my eyes drift across to the chipped, blue wardrobe opposite and the feeling vanishes.
McAllister Halls are for those who need extra support or grants to pay their tuition at Waversea.
As in, their funding is approved on a low income basis as opposed to mine, which is on a disability award.
This also evidently means that all of the new, high-tech renovations went absolutely anywhere else.
The furniture is barely holding together on aged screws, the mattress beneath me thin and lumpy.
Yet, there’s nowhere else on campus I feel comfortable anymore.
Kenneth is typing away at the desk to my left, no doubt still talking to himself too.
We’ve fallen into a strange but easy routine.
I hide from the taunts, since the entire student body have taken it upon themselves to seek revenge for my disrespecting Rhys, and Kenneth enjoys having company in his room once again.
He doesn’t even mind when I leave my receivers in my bag, happy to chat to the side of my head.
If I’m being honest, I’m a little worried about him.
He wears Clay’s hoodie like he’s holding onto a lifeline, the pitiful gaze in his eyes pulling at my tender heartstrings.
I don’t know what Clay meant to me or what we could have been, but Kenneth seems to have lost his idol.
Even so, I’ll be pulling that hoodie off him if he refuses to wash it soon.
Placing the book beside his laptop, I stretch my arms above my head and yawn.
The sun has set on another long day, and although I should be revising my notes from class, I reckon I’ll head back to mine for an early night.
At least sleep can give me a brief reprieve before it all starts again tomorrow.
The jeers over breakfast, shoulder barges in the hall, being left the broken microscope in class, pages ripped from the books I return to the library.
Small annoyances that are becoming harder to simply ignore.
Not that I’m one to run from a fight, let alone hide away, but I’m healing.
At least, I hope I am. Losing Clay and Rhys in one day has left a hole in me that I didn’t realize they were filling.
I wanted a normal student life, to stay wrapped in my silent world, but now I’ve got exactly that, it hurts.
A constant ache of loneliness I can’t overcome.
I’ve been isolated before, I should be used to it.
At least I have Addy and Kenneth to grab food from the cafeteria and check out books from the library.
A bookworm without books is just…a worm. Ew.
Waving a hand to catch Kenneth’s attention, I sign ‘heading home’, to which he grins widely at and copies.
It’s sweet how he wants to learn to sign with me, I’ve never had that before.
Although I get the feeling Kenneth latches to people quickly, clinging on like a stray puppy with unwavering loyalty to whoever feeds his need for attachment.
Grabbing my backpack, I head out into the dark.
Just as I reach the bottom of the stairs, my phone buzzes, a message from Addy mentioning some last-minute dance training ahead of some fundraiser performance this weekend.
I pout, but I don’t begrudge her for getting back to her life.
She’s been amazing since…that night. Making herself available whenever I needed a shoulder to flop against, cancelling practices to eat ice-cream and binge crappy TV shows with me.
Until the guilt rolled in that my temporary slump is the reason she’s missing out on rehearsals, so I started hanging out at Clay’s - I mean, Kenneth’s, instead.
Shuddering against the chill that night has brought, I hug my new sheepskin coat around me.
One of the perks to a self-appointed pity party, a much needed online shopping spree.
My breath puffs out in orange-tinted clouds under the streetlamps, groups of smokers huddled beneath, their cigarette embers glowing gold against the dark.
I briefly wonder if Rhys is amongst them, and then remember I don’t care.
I hurry past and slip into the cafeteria just before it closes, ignoring the scowls thrown my way as I grab a paper bag of doughnuts definitely not intended for just one.
Most of the cheer squad, the catty ones anyway, are risking hypothermia by sitting cross-legged on the fountain in the tiny outfits they seem to live in.
Klara catches my eye to hiss something between her teeth, but I walk past with my middle finger high in the air.
If I wasn’t so determined to see my degree through, Klara would have bested me weeks ago with the literal shit stuffed into my locker or the marker pen scrawled across my textbooks.
It’s bad enough she signs a ‘K’ on everything so I know she’s responsible.
My fingers are already going numb from clutching the bag, so I hook it into the crook of my elbow and breathe into my palms while weaving through the courtyard, past shuttered windows and shadowed archways until Bolton Halls rises ahead of me.
The automatic lights flick on at my approach, the heater by the stairs blowing out a lazy, barely-warm breath that makes the concrete smell faintly of dust and old detergent.
I fumble with my keys at the door, twist the lock and push inside.
Then, I jump out of my damn skin at the dark shape slumped on the edge of my bed.
A noise leaves my throat and I don’t even want to know what it sounded like.
The figure doesn’t move. The hallway light spills in, revealing the ink rippling over his bare arms, and the sea of demons and angels staring up at me.
Rhys sits there, elbows on his jean-clad thighs, hair falling forward and his face buried in his hands.
For a long second, I simply stand there and watch him.
His posture screams defeat, but I’m not so easily fooled.
Not by him, not anymore. He doesn’t move, not to look at me or to state his business after all these weeks.
Rhys has been a ghost, many wondering if he is still even on campus.
Once my thrashing heart has somewhat settled, I roll my eyes and pull out my phone, switching to the microphone app.
Walking to my dresser with more confidence in my strides than I truly feel, I place the device down and flick on the lamp.
“Get on with it then. What do you want?” With the accuracy of a blade, Rhys’ pale eyes flick to me, his hands falling limply between his legs.
Black circles shadow his eyes, creases framing his mouth from the frown that’s secured there.
But most of all, he looks haunted. Strained even.
I’m still not falling for it. “I assume you’re here to exact whatever twisted revenge you’ve been cooking up in your recent absence. ”
“I’m not here to torment you,” he mumbles with a shake of his head and returns his gaze to the floor. It’s a sorry sight. I force my spine to stiffen, pushing all of my effort into maintaining the barrier I’ve been building.
“No, you let your disciples do it instead,” I snarl. Rhys’ head tilts at this, tension pulling between his brows.
“Who?” he rasps, and if I wasn’t mistaken, a trace of his old self filtered back to life. It’s gone in my next blink. Pushing myself to sit on my desk, I sigh dramatically.
“It’s too late to act like you’re capable of caring, Rhys.
Get out of my room.” Silence follows, the seconds dragging by as if my pulse is ticking off each one.
His richly expensive scent reaches me from where he sits, imbedding itself into my furnishings and confusing my senses.
The only movement in the room is my foot shaking impatiently.
I try to wait him out, figuring he’ll crack first, but his limbs are loose and he doesn’t seem to be in any rush.
Slapping my thighs in exasperation, I jump down to the floor and stand before him with my arms crossed.
“What the hell do you want?!” I call out, attracting the attention of a fellow student making her way towards the bathroom.
She quickly scurries along at my scowl, but back in the direction she came.
It won’t be long before the whispers are passed room to room and we have an audience.
For that reason only, I slam the door closed.
“I want...” Rhys mutters, his voice is so quiet that I’m forced to toss my phone onto the bed beside him. He goes unnervingly quiet again, fixated on a spot on the floor until I kick his shoe with my boot. “I want you to punish me.”
I can’t contain the responding laughter that leaves me.
It’s somewhere between deranged cackle and what-the-fuck-is-my-life hysteria.
Of all the grand entrances I expected Rhys to make back into my life, of all the bombs I was waiting for him to drop, he has successfully surprised me once more.
I should applaud his ability to fuck with my mind in six words.
Dropping onto Addy’s bed, my head tips back to the ceiling, searching for some divine intervention that doesn’t arrive.
I had rehearsed for the anger or misery that would come with seeing him again.
I wasn’t prepared for amusement. He doesn’t flinch at my reaction, only tilts his head a fraction and finally lifts his eyes to meet mine.
Devoid of life, much like the first time I ever met him but worse.
There’s no air of superiority now, only a perfected wounded puppy expression that looks misplaced.
“Thanks for the offer, but no.”