The Bright Ones

11| Visiting Day

I didn't sleep much longer. When I did wake again it was too cold tears rolling over my cheeks and tickling my ears. I'd rolled over towards the wall and pulled the quilt further up. I'd been like this for a couple of hours now. Reeve had been awake for some of that time, and in that short time, three people had been at the door. Dylan, Brodie, and Will had all come to check on me and talk to Reeve. Their voices were low and I wasn't focused. The only feeling I felt was dread when Will had come. This was his fault. My illness—it was his fault.

The time to get out of bed came too soon. Reeve wasn't in here at the time. I put on the uniform slacks and a button-down. I made my bed and went to the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth. The taste of bile and vomit was still lingering on the back of my tongue and in my burning throat.

I went back to my dorm and put on my tie and blazer before leaving. Ok my way out of the notebook Reeve had given me caught my eye on the desk. The horrific thought of writing down my dream crossed my mind for a split second. I knew I couldn't. I hated myself for even thinking of it. What if someone read got their hands on it and read it? If it wasn't condemning enough to have even had the dream, it was bad enough that I'd have a notebook with sinful depictions. And what of Reeve? I couldn't risk him not understanding. He'd think me revolting. He'd turn me in. He'd tell the others. He'd tell Will.

I slipped a drawer open in the desk and tossed the notebook in.

~•~•~•~

"He lives!" Dylan whooped as I made my way to my spot at our breakfast table.

Lawrence is reading yet another bookmaking the test of us look like hooligans academically compared. Brodie shovels his breakfast and Dylan's breakfast down, Dylan is making conversation with him, Reeve is passed out with his head on Will's shoulder, and Will is working on a paper.

After they've all more or less greeted me or said good morning, I turn to Will, whose caramel hair is back to being perfect, nothing like in my nightmare. His reading glasses rest on his perfect freckled noses as his hand glides across the paper.

"What are you doing?" I ask trying to get a better look. Will quickly looks up, making eye contact and covering the paper.

"Nothing." Is Will flustered? I mentally smirk at the rose spreading over his cheeks.

"He's writing a love letter," Brodie says with a mouth full of bacon and eggs, "Probably to one of those Swithun girls. Just like Dylan."

This statement gets an eye roll from Lawr, or maybe it was Brodie's lack of manners. Dylan throws his head back in laughter and Will's blush only deepens. I'm honestly too shocked to react verbally, but I usually struggle in that department anyway. I quickly close my mouth and begin overthinking.

A girl? Since when did Will have a female to write to? But the question were just a distraction my brain was making for my heart. My heart hurt beyond sensibility. The million-dollar question was why did it bother me? Why has it bothered me this whole term? Nothing made sense to me.

Will's eyes met mine and I was extremely jealous of the girl who'd get to look into his crystal eyes. Whether it was the girl he was writing or another one in the future. I didn't know much of what I was feeling, but I knew I'd be jealous.

I forced a smile, trying to match Dylan's energy. It was the hardest thing I'd had to do in the last twenty-four hours.

"Do we get to meet her?" I ask, not wanting an answer. An answer will make it real.