Chapter 28: 26 - Eight Days of Debate

Our dance ended as quickly as it had begun.

Rian was, of course, a god when it came to pretty much everything. Dancing was no different. I felt like I was floating on air.

As for me, I'd been to my share of formal parties in France. I could hold my own when it came to dance. I was actually quite good, if I did say so myself.

Since we were clearly set for the dance portion of the ball tomorrow, Prof didn't force us to practice for too long. Instead, he focused on teaching us how to make casual conversation (which was aimed more at Rian than me), as well as who we should and shouldn't avoid at the ball. It was all pretty standard stuff, and the practice was over in no time.

Prof seemed satisfied with our progress, and wished us luck for the real thing tomorrow. Adrian simply winked at me, as did Rikki. I still had no idea how to feel about that.

Finally, it was time for us to go home. Ever since our too-intimate dance earlier, I'd been avoiding looking at Rian for too long or too intensely. I was confused enough at it was; I didn't need him hypnotizing me and jumbling things up any further.

"I guess I'll see you tomorrow," I said to him as I walked by. I was eager to leave Branbury Hall, and being around him wasn't helping.

He caught my arm on my way out, and I resisted the urge to pull it away. I hadn't forgotten the painful beginnings of an episode I'd felt in the car ride here, and I didn't really feel like collapsing into a ball of pain and trauma with others still milling around.

"What is it?" I asked.

He hesitated. Whatever he was about to say, it seemed serious. "Hanna," he began, shifting his weight. "I . . ."

I frowned and turned to face him fully. He looked almost nervous, which was about as unlike Rian as it could get. "Is something wrong?"

He didn't speak for a moment. My frown deepened, and his hand moved as if to reach out. But before it could get very far he stopped, and his hand swung back to his side. "No," he said finally, angling himself away from me. "It's nothing. I'll see you tomorrow." And then he strode past me, out of the room.

I huffed. Do you see what I mean? The boy delighted in confusing the hell out of me. It was a wonder I'd even managed to last this long without spontaneously combusting.

♛

Half an hour later, my heels were kicked off, my dress was neatly packed away, and I was snugged into an oversized sweatshirt with a pint of Ben & Jerry's ice cream.

A hesitant knock came at the door, and without looking up from the fudge brownie deliciousness in my lap, I called, "enter!"

Rokim and Lisa pushed their way in through the unlocked door, and I grinned at them around a mouthful of icy goodness. Rokim raised an eyebrow at me. "Enter?" he echoed.

I nodded sagely. "I'm feeling a little Lord of the Rings right now."

He cocked his head confusedly. "A bit obsessive and prone to drama," I explained.

"Ah."

"So sit!" I gestured to the couch, where I was currently curled up. "We're binging all the seasons of Brooklyn Nine-Nine. I need my Jake and Amy action."

"Nice," Lisa said agreeably, flopping down next to me. Words didn't need to be said to know that things were fine between us. Rokim, however, remained standing.

"Although that sounds fun," he said quickly. "Do you wanna talk about, you know, tomorrow?"

I frowned, purposefully misunderstanding the question. "You mean the ball? Nah, I've got that handled."

"Not the ball," he said quietly. Upon seeing that I wasn't going to bite, he simply sighed and gestured to the TV. "I'm just saying, are you sure you wanna be doing that right now?"

I looked at him, genuinely not comprehending this time. "Of course I wanna do it. Brooklyn Nine-Nine is my life."

Rokim rolled his eyes. "That's not—"

"Gina Linetti is my spirit animal."

"Han, would you just—"

"And Captain Holt's non-expressions give me the tickles."

He sighed and flopped down next to Lisa, who yawned and snuggled into his side. "There's no winning with you," he muttered.

I grinned. Sleepily, Lisa murmured, "Yeah, but we knew that when we decided to be friends with her. It's no one's fault but our own."

"Whatever," Rokim responded good-naturedly, shifting to face the TV without disturbing Lisa. "Enjoy your borrowed time."

"I will," I asserted before flicking on the show. As Andy Samberg launched into the best speech of Donnie Brasco, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of dread. I was on borrowed time, and just because I was ignoring my problems with Rian doesn't mean they'd go away.

But who cares about that? Jake and Amy are on.

I leaned into Lisa's side and decided come what may, I'd make the best of it. The thought, although small, comforted me enough that I was asleep before the Halloween Heist.

Unfortunately, my subconscious had a habit of playing cruel tricks on me. Tonight was no different. For the eighth night in a row, I dreamt of Rian.

Horrific, bloodcurdling screams rattled the air. My head was foggy with fear and loss, but I could tell enough that the shrieks sounded even sharper than usual. It took Rokim's hands shaking me awake before I realized that the screams were my own.

"Hanna!" Lisa yelled breathlessly. I bolted into an upright position, my eyes searching the room wildly. Rokim held my shoulders and braced me as I attempted to recover my bearings.

"It's okay, it's fine," he murmured, over and over. Slowly, the tension from my body drained away, and I fell limply against the side of the couch.

The clock on the wall said it was 5:00 a.m.—as if I would ever be up at such a time willingly. The fact that I was meant that the nightmare was over. It was this thought that finally calmed me down enough that I could regain control.

My breath came and went in shaky stutters. Lisa, who'd never been present during one of my nightmares, was rubbing my back consolingly, but I couldn't miss the horror in her eyes. I didn't blame her. Even Rokim—who'd played the part of the comforter, nurse, and therapist when I refused to seek professional help—looked shaken.

"How long?" he asked quietly.

I avoided his gaze, instead choosing to stare at my hands. "Eight days."

Rokim reared back in shock. "Eight days? And you didn't think to tell me?"

I closed my eyes for a moment. "It's my problem. No one else's."

He stared at me in horrified disbelief, before shaking his head vehemently. "No," he muttered, before repeating the word more forcefully. "No. You need help, Hanna. You need to see someone about this."

I stiffened, glaring up at him. "No I don't. Therapy is out of the question."

"This is different. There's a really good psychiatrist I know, you'd like him. You already do, actually—"

I cut him off, my voice tight. "No psychiatrists. We've talked about this, Rokim."

He gritted his teeth, a muscle in his jaw jumping. "That was before the nightmares came back. And the episodes too, for that matter."

Lisa gasped. "The episodes are back?"

I shook my head. This was getting out of hand. "It doesn't matter. I don't need therapy," I spat.

Rokim and I stared at each other tensely. It was a while before Lisa finally broke the silence.

"Han," she said gently. At least, her voice was gentle—but as I turned to her, I caught a glimpse of that same fearful pity I'd been facing ever since the incident. I hated seeing it on her.

"If your episodes really are happening again," she continued, "then maybe it would be best to see a professional." She paused, swallowing apprehensively. "I mean, I only saw it happen once, and it was . . . terrifying."

I cast my eyes to the floor, but I didn't give in. "What can a professional do?" I asked fiercely, looking up if only to make my point clear. "I went to them three years ago when this shit first started, and all they could tell me was that it was psychological."

Rokim pinched the bridge of his nose exasperatedly. "It is psychological, Hanna. There's nothing wrong with you physically. Like you said, we've had this conversation before."

That awoke my anger. "Then why won't you listen?" I hissed frustratedly.

"Because they're supposed to help you!" he rebutted.

"Help me?" I scoffed. I yanked open the drawer on the coffee table nearby and grabbed the case of syringes lying inside. "They didn't help me. All they did was give me these stupid things and tell me to stab myself with one if I felt I like I was about to die." Completely riled up at this point, I gazed into Rokim's sympathetic eyes and laughed bitterly. "As if I haven't felt like that the past three years anyway."

He looked away from me, instead staring down morosely at the case of injections. "These are all here," he said through a frown.

"So?"

"So, you're supposed to have one on you at all times." He looked back up at me again, new worry clear in his face. "Have you not been doing that?"

Losing steam now, I simply huffed and leaned back against the couch as my anger evaporated. "I figure if it's my time to go, then I'm not gonna ruin it by taking one of those."

"Hanna!" Lisa protested, upset.

I glanced over at her, startled, before feeling a trace of guilt trickle its way into my gut. I'd momentarily forgotten she was here.

"Sorry," I muttered, but judging by the pained look Rokim was giving me, he knew I didn't actually mean it.

Although he was well-versed in my bouts of dramatica, Lisa wasn't used to seeing this side of me. Whereas Rokim had known me for five years—we'd met through Prof, who'd been scouting talented chefs for the program at the time—and had been around for the incident, I'd only met Lisa two years ago, while she'd been in France on a trip.

It was purely an accident that she'd witnessed one of my episodes, about a year and a half back—I'd accidentally left my door open, and she'd walked in looking for a hair dryer I'd borrowed. Instead, she found me gasping for air, clutching my right side and screaming through gritted teeth.

The thing was, I'd lost her hair dryer the week before. Wasn't life funny?

I took a deep breath. "Listen," I began carefully, determined not to lose my temper again. "I know you guys care, and that you just want the best for me. I know that stuff, okay?" I glanced between the both of them, trying to let them see my sincerity. "It's just . . . I don't see the point in discussing it. I thought I'd have talked things through with Rian by now, but obviously that plan's not working out." I gave Rokim a wry smile. "So I guess that ultimatum of yours is a moot point."

He pursed his lips and didn't say anything. I frowned confusedly. "It is a moot point, isn't it?"

He turned his face up to the ceiling, closing his eyes. "I can't believe I'm about to do this," he muttered. He angled his face back down and opened his eyes before speaking. "I actually think you're right," he rushed out.

I blinked. "What?"

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Well, ignoring him clearly isn't working. You guys are like magnets," he said, eyeing me. "Always stuck to one another despite however many times you're pulled apart."

My face burned pink. "That's a bit excessive," I said, ignoring my obvious blush, "considering he hates me."

Rokim barked out a laugh. "Sure he does, Han. The point is, you're not getting any better," he continued, sobering us both up. "So if reconnecting with him is what you feel you need to do, then I'm with you."

I smiled, though my fatigue still pulled at me. "Thanks, Kimmy."

He nodded and shifted his weight. "No problem."

"Uh, guys?" Lisa interjected.

I jumped, glancing at her in surprise. I really ought to put a cowbell on her or something.

"What the heck does Rian have to do with this?"

There was a long silence as Rokim and I realized Lisa didn't know about the whole Rian-pretending-not-to-know-me thing. How did you even approach something like that?

We looked at each other, silently debating who'd be the one to explain my mess of a situation to her. He raised his hands, palms out. "Don't look at me," he said innocently. "He's your magnet."

I rolled my eyes. "He's not my magnet."

Rokim only smirked in response, so I ignored him and turned to Lisa. "It's kind of a long story, Lis."

She shrugged. "So give me the abridged version."

I nodded, still struggling to figure out how to begin. "Cool. Coolcoolcool. So," I began tentatively. "Uh, the thing is . . ."

As I was going over it in my head, I couldn't help but realize how pathetic the whole story sounded. Lisa was waiting for me to continue, her eyebrow cocked expectantly. I decided to just dive right into things. "Rian, well . . . um, I guess you can say he has a minor case of amnesia?"

Lisa's mouth popped open. "What?" she asked, flabbergasted. "He has amnesia?"

I winced. Perhaps that wasn't the best way to start. "Well, not amnesia, per se. Though that wouldn't be an entirely incorrect diagnosis—"

"Wait wait wait," Lisa said, holding up a finger perplexedly. "Give it to me straight. Does Rian have amnesia or not?"

I paused awkwardly. "Okay, first of all, that's what she said," I pointed out.

Lisa only rolled her eyes. "And second, the amnesia thing's debatable," I continued.

"What do you mean by debatable?"

"Uhh—"

"Oh my god," Rokim groaned, interrupting my rather brilliant explanation. "How were you ever captain of the debate team in high school? Were you just lying to me?"

I frowned childishly. "I wasn't lying," I protested. "I was nationally ranked, okay? I was only ever beaten by one person."

"And who was that?" he challenged, one eyebrow raised.

I scowled; he knew the answer, he just wanted to hear me say it.

I finally mumbled a response. Rokim raised his eyebrows, cupping a hand around his ear.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" he prodded.

"Rian! It was Rian, okay?" I exclaimed irritatedly.

Rokim smiled smugly while I simply glared at him. "Butthead," I muttered, but that only made his grin broaden. Meanwhile, Lisa looked between the two of us incredulously.

"Wait," she said, bewildered. "Rian went to your high school?"

I winced again. Debate team captain or not, explaining my own twisted life? That was a feat no one could accomplish.

"Listen, Lis—"

"No, you stop talking." Rokim cut me off, raising a hand. "I've got this, Miss Captain Of The Debate Team."

He ignored my scowl and turned to Lisa. "The short version is Hanna and Rian were childhood friends up until three years ago. Then she went to France to study and they lost touch. When she came back, Rian acted like he didn't recognize her. I've got to assume that they just really enjoyed high school," he stopped and took a breath to roll his eyes, "because they've both been acting like a pair of angsty teenagers and it is downright tiring to watch."

I stared at him, open-mouthed. He swivelled back around to look at me, and smugly slid his hands into his pockets. "Yeah, I was nationally ranked too," he said with a grin. "Toastmasters."

Lisa nodded, ignoring my staggered expression. "Okay," she said, her blonde hair bobbing. "Angsty teenagers. Got it."

She stood and stretched, slinging an arm around Rokim's shoulders. "Well, this morning has been quite the ordeal." She glanced at the clock again, grinning like the Cheshire cat. "And since the ball is today, we've got to get in our beauty sleep."

She slid away from Rokim, strolling over to the entrance to my bedroom. "I'm gonna go take a nap," she said, winking playfully. "And both of you are invited to join me." With that, she opened the door and disappeared inside.

I looked up at Rokim, who returned my glance. I was pretty tired, and judging from the bags under Rokim's eyes, he looked like he could use a good power-nap too.

So I shrugged and stuck out my hand. "Wanna go sleep with Lisa?"

He smirked before tugging me up off the couch. "There's nothing I'd like more."

I shoved him, evoking a laugh, before entering the room with him in tow. I snuggled into the mountain of pillows on the bed, sandwiched between my two closest friends in the world. For the first time in a long while—especially with tomorrow being what it was—I slept with a smile on my face.

So you can imagine my surprise when I awoke, happy and relaxed, only to find myself staring into a pair of familiar obsidian eyes.

Son of a bitch.