❝𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡
𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐝𝐞❞
↳ james camden was cursed with a fate equal to death. battered and bruised, with one foot already in the grave, she was nothing but persistent.
...but death was a...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
James didn't have any friends.
She kept to herself, rejected hang-out invitations and kept people at distance. Nobody should waste their time with her when any day now could be her last.
Her dad had never liked that attitude, but her dad has never been the wisest so James didn't really care.
It wasn't that she wouldn't like some friends. No, she was embarrassed to say that she craved some interhuman connections, catching herself wanting to accept one of Liz's many group activity invitations or asking her neighbour Steven to meet up for coffee sometime.
But James understood the meaning of loss and she would rather die — knock on wood three times — than be the cause of anyone grieving her because she felt the need for some friends.
So yes, her and Steven weren't friends. They weren't even acquaintances.
So the reason why he was standing in front of her door at 6 AM in the morning was completely bizarre to her.
"You want me to...feed your goldfish?" she asked, slowly, wondering if she heard him correctly.
When the persistent knocking on the door had roused her from her sleep she had first thought her dad had decided to visit — he did that sometimes. But when she had padded towards the door, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, swaying with every step and looking through the peephole she couldn't believe her eyes.
Not until she had ripped open the door and the sight before it was still the same.
Steven Grant, standing at her door.
"Yeah, it'll only be for a few days. Maybe two, no, two max."
James blinked at him, taking in his figure and wondering if her lack of sleep and her half-asleep state were the reason why Steven Grant wasn't acting like...Steven Grant.
He wasn't even standing how he usually stood.
And why was he talking in an American accent?
"You're going on a trip or something?" she asked, leaning against the doorway, looking up at him with furrowed brows.
"Yeah, something like that," he told her and forced a smile.
Steven. was. forcing. a. smile.
James frowned as she eyed him sceptically. She hadn't held long conversations with Steven. Mostly it was just quick exchanges and walking together for a bit. So maybe she shouldn't be so surprised that she didn't know him that well...although she liked to argue she was a good judge of character.
But she couldn't help but feel like there was more to it than just a misjudgment on her side.
"Are you feeling alright?" she asked, leaning forward and glancing into the hall but they were alone. Strange. She felt like she's seen something in the corner of her eye.
