38: Bubbling Tension

❝ Let's stop running from love, my baby, let's stop running from us ❞

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I was floating between feeling pissed and feeling guilty. No matter what, I shouldn't have threw his father's name in the conversation. I had no fucking right. But it pained me to see his talents go to waste, and it stung that he didn't trust me enough to talk about the conflict he was going through with me. How was I supposed to go on living as if nothing was wrong, and that I didn't know where my relationship with him would stand in the next four months? Because I thought it wasn't something casual, because I thought what we had was real. I thought we loved each other enough to make it through the tough times.

Nevertheless, I'd texted him and conveyed my apologies about how I should've known my place when it came to his dad, and that I was here if he ever wanted to talk it out. My fingers had hovered over the screen, itching to type I still love you, but I was too much of a coward to actually send him that, scared for his response or the lack thereof. As I'd anticipated, he'd read the text and hadn't replied.

It'd been 259200 seconds, 4320 minutes and 72 hours since I'd texted him and he still hadn't replied, or tried to reach out to me in any other way.

Slamming the phone on the dressing table, I threaded the comb through my hair, frustration and fear building up inside me. My anxiety had kicked the roof and I was officially close to admitting things had downfallen for good. His words repeated in my mind, like a mantra, of how he was not sure about us, how he might not be serious about the future. And when you loved someone so much so that their pain became yours, the thought of the ideal we not existing was more than enough to make you cry, to bring you to your knees and beg them to not leave you.

If he was thinking about himself, I would do too.

No matter where I was, I would keep loving him but that did not mean I had to give up on my dreams. That English degree was waiting for me, calling out to me and I would go and get it. I would fulfill my dream of becoming a published writer.

"June, breakfast!" Mom called from downstairs and I yelled a "Coming!" while throwing a leather jacket around my shoulders, taking a deep breath and descending down.

"Here you go, daughter dearest." Dad placed a plate of casserole in front of me. "Fresh out of oven." He beamed and settled down, pointing his fork towards my plate. "Eat up." I nodded, my stomach grumbling with the heavenly smell that wafted up my nostrils. Dad always made the best vegetable casseroles, and I'd missed his cooking a lot.

"Your glass of orange juice dear." Mom slid the glass towards me, wiping her hands on the napkin that hung over her shoulders. "Are you feeling okay now?"

My parents had sensed the gloomy clouds looming around me for the past few days and I'd blamed it on the college applications and upcoming unit tests. They'd also questioned why Ray hadn't been around and I did want to tell them, but my tongue was tied the second I remembered Sam was in the picture as well. I'd have to think about him, because of course, his health mattered the most than anything right in this moment.

"Yeah, I'm good. Sorted out a few things in my head, and now I'm pretty confident and sure about my decisions." Dad hummed and smiled, showing his appreciation while mom simply patted my head gently.

"Atta girl. You have nothing to worry about, you will do just fine. And even if you don't, that's okay because one shit college application doesn't determine your future. You are more than that so don't beat yourself up over it." He sighed. "Your old man isn't around much, but I'll always be here for you whenever you need me." Glassy eyes pierced into me and he cracked up a smile, the same which painted over my face over the next few seconds.

"Of course dad, I know. And I'm always thankful for that." I would always be. My parents were people who would support me with whatever they had, and that was something I was eternally grateful for. Stuffing my mouth with the last bite, I stood up and dumped the plate in the sink, downing the glass of juice in one go. "Gotta get a move, or I'll be late for school." Placing chaste kisses on their cheeks, I waved them a goodbye and stepped out of the house.

I didn't have Ray to pick me up for school today, or maybe I was hoping he would drop by and talk. But I was hoping wrong and it looked like I'd have to walk again to school like I did before. Katie had told me she would be going with Jack after the thorough interrogation I had gone through the day before and that I was free to join, but I didn't want to intrude.

The neighborhood was quiet, and it was no surprise because it was seven on a Monday morning. There weren't any kids who lived around my block, with an exception of me and Katie. The wind rustled through the leaves, acting like a soft lullaby in the background. The air had a cool chill to it, but not nail biting, and that was why I loved living in California. It never got too cold, just the bearable kind, which was honestly the weather I loved because that meant I could wear hoodies and sweatshirts without having to layer up myself too much.

Stuffing my hands in the pockets of my jacket, I heaved out a sigh as the wind blew my bangs over my eyes, but it felt good, as if the nature was walking down the quiet street with me. I'd thought about a lot of things these past few days, and I'd come to very strong conclusions. And I felt good about them, I felt sure about myself.

Entering the school gate, I watched as people walked in grumbling and muttering how they'd have loved to sleep in today, with the weather being just the perfect kind, the other half dead on the outside with music blasting in their ears through earphones. The peppy kids were very few in number but that was school wasn't it? Different kids, different personalities yet sat and studied the same things. The things that determined their future. High school was a place that either made you or broke you. For the better or for the worse depended upon people, really.

Grabbing the English textbook from my locker, I stepped past people to reach the classroom, which was yet to be filled. I liked being early, not because I wanted to suck up to my teacher, but because I got to choose the best seat and have a moment to myself. I liked the silence in the classroom—the comfortable kind—where the teacher sat with his head stuffed into some book and the few students scattered over the classroom did whatever they had to. When the trouble  makers stepped in, the class turned into a loudspeaker emitting gossips and who hooked up with who. Not that I didn't like me some tea, but sometimes, you needed silence to overpower the chaos within and I could really use some of that now.

Mrs. Delaney gave me a friendly nod which I reciprocated and took my usual seat in the third row beside the window which overlooked the giant apple tree in our school yard. Often times, I found my attention drifting to the life outside the window—a worker sweeping over the concrete floor, students laughing and walking past, birds fluttering in and out over the tree, the green grass that was freshly moved and such. It was a breather, because sometimes you felt like you lived in another world, the parallel lines running too close to each other.

I didn't realize when had the classed filled in, the laughs and murmurs rising. My eyes fell on Simon and Ray, who had chosen a seat far back to the left, beside where the cheerleaders sat. Simon was laughing at something Tasha said, who even cracked a smile out of Ray.

A pang of hurt erupted in my chest. So this was how it was going to be now, no texts, no calls and no sitting beside me either. I didn't understand why he shut me out so abruptly, dismissing me as if I was nothing. I'd just asked him to be honest with me. While my weekend had been spent over shedding tears and trying to come up with solutions as to how we would go forward with this, it didn't seem that we were on the same wavelength. It didn't look like he was very keen to sort this out.

I wasn't jealous. I was simply disappointed.

His eyes met mine and for a second I held our stare, letting him see how much this had affected me before shaking my head and turning to look forward. My hope had fizzled out and I was angry now. I was disappointed, I was frustrated. And much more than everything I felt, I missed him. Angry yet hurt tears prickled at the corner of my eyes and I wiped them off with the sleeve of my jacket hastily, because I had decided not to cry anymore.

"Page number 77 kids." Mrs. Delaney spoke up as the chattering faded to dull whispers and the flipping of pages. "Tattoo by Ted Kooser. So who's reading it for me?" I spent rest of the class tuning out my thoughts and jotting down notes, figures of speeches and potential questions based on the poem. So when the bell rung and I looked up, my neck cracked and I felt the need to stretch my body from the vigorous note making I had subjected it to. "Later losers." Mrs. Delaney waved us off with a laugh and everyone yelled a goodbye at her, scrambling out of class happy. She was easily everyone's favorite teacher in the entire school.

Flinging my bag over my shoulder, I stepped out of class in search of Olivia and Katie when a firm hand latched onto my wrist. I turned around to see Simon beaming down at me, with Ray sulking behind him at a distance. Anger flared through me. "You coming to hang out at mine after school? My dad sent over the new PlayStation, we could play! Everyone is coming," he smirked before saying the next few words. "Your boyfriend as well." I watched Ray's jaw clench and my heart shattered.

"No thanks. You guys have fun." My voice cracked in the last bit which caused Ray to look up but before we could gauge each other's reaction, I turned around and jogged over to the nearest washroom, slamming the door shut.

My heart hammered as the reality sunk in me. Maybe everything was really over. Maybe he wasn't serious anymore. Pressing the heels of my palms into my eyes, a weak attempt at not letting the tears flow, I slid down the cubicle door trying to gather my feelings. One look at him and I was a puddle.

The washroom door banged open and my eyes flitted to the intruder, except that it wasn't a stranger.

It was Ray.

His gaze settled on my teary face and his eyes softened. With two steps he was kneeling beside me, pulling me into a hug. I wasn't going to give in after three days of zero communication.

"Don't touch me," I seethed, pushing him away. "Three days of no texts and here you are, acting like everything's fine." He sighed, crossing his legs and looking away.

"I'm sorry." Gulping heavily, his eyes met mine. "I didn't mean to unload on you that day. I was just—" he raked his fingers through his hair. "I don't really feel like leaving my mum and brother here, all alone, while I go away to study. And believe me when I say I do want a life for myself. But after everything mom has done for me, I can't leave here all alone fending for herself and Sam." Tracing his fingers along my cheek, his hand dropped. "I love you. I always will. And for the record, I always dreamed of studying Fine Arts in UCLA. That dream just seems a bit impossible for me right now." His face fell, his eyes tracing the designs on the tiles below. "I know I've been pathetic with ignoring you and all. It was shitty of me." He winced. "I guess I just needed time to sort things out."

"I just wanted you to know that you could trust me with anything. Did you think I'd stop loving you if you told me you wanted to stay here?" Capturing his hand in mine, I continued. "I would never. I just wanted you to be honest with me."

"You're right. I fucked up." His fingers traced my palm softly. "You know you're the light to my dark, right?" My heart pummeled in my chest as he scooted closer and pulled me into his chest. "Sometimes, I stay up at night, thinking how did you come into my life and make me hopeful about the future? I was a rebellious guy, wanting to release my anger against the world by doing things that were socially unacceptable because the world was grey for me. And then you appeared, literally dripping in colors from head to toe, making me see the good around me." A lone tear escaped my eye.

"You taught me to be hopeful, June."

"And you taught me to love myself, Ray, so don't ever underestimate yourself." He smiled and we sat there, on the floor, against the cold floor, trying to live in the moment and pushing away the fear of future in the back of our minds.

"You know—" My phone rang, interrupting our bubble.

"Just a second." Dad shouldn't be calling me right now. He was very big on no phones during school. It had to be something important. "Hel—"

"June." Dad's voice was urgent, and nervous. My heart thumped in my chest, sensing something was wrong. "Why is not Ray picking up his phone?"

"I don't know, but he's here with me, what's happened?" Ray's eyebrows furrowed as we both sat up straight.

"Give the phone to him. Now." I handed him the phone and watched his face turn from curious to pale. Abruptly standing up, he handed me my phone back, his hands shaking violently.

"Ray, RAY, listen to me? What's wrong?" Cupping his face in my palms, I made him face me as tears pooled in his eyes.

The next few words numbed me and sent a chill down my spine.

"It's Sam. He had a stroke."

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:/ sam :(

2-3 chapters remaining for the book to finish. lemme go cry my eyes out