Look for the light | Dalton Lambert

THERE'S NO MORNING GLORY. IT WAS WAR, IT WASNT FAIR.

THE DAY SEEMED TO fly past as though the quartet were on auto pilot.

They sat in their classes. There physically, but mentally hung up on the events of the night before (both good and bad).

Stella heard the bell faintly in the back of her mind as she gathered up her untouched books and loaded them into her bag swiftly as she made for the door.

Usually she'd have made small talk with her peers or checked up on her elderly professor but today she just had no time.

She had to find her Dalton.

She knew the night before had affected him more than he let on, he'd put up a facade in order to care for the girl he now found a necessity in his life. He didn't want to worry her.

Dalton however had been too into his art class that he'd miss the bell and was only leaving the classroom as Stella arrived outside.

"Hey." She began as the two took off walking together.

"Hey, what's up?" He smiled down at the girl, he didn't want to keep asking her about last night but secretly hoped she'd bring it up. She didn't.

"Not much, just thought I'd walk back with you." She looked back up at him through her wispy bangs.

He grinned at her whilst throwing his arm over her shoulder and guiding them back to his room.

Upon entering the room the two placed their things down on Dalton's desk and clambered onto his bed, her sitting between his legs.

However, before either could speak Dalton's phone began to buzz and a name was displayed on the screen.

FOSTER.

The boy sighed as he placed his chin on the girls head and picked up his phone. "Hey?" Dalton began.

"Are you okay dude? You've been calling a lot recently." Foster asked, for the first time in years he sounded genuinely worried about his brother.

Dalton leant forward slightly, sighing into the girls hair.

"Tell me everything you remember about my coma." Dalton asked, the girl in-front of him turned in his lap to face him and listen into the conversation. She ran her hand through his hair and down his face, tracing his cheek with her thumb before dropping her hand into his lap. He smiled at her touch, grateful for her comfort.

"You should talk to mom.." Foster voiced from the other end of the line. Stella could faintly hear the conversation and leaned in closer to hear, hoping to vaguely analyse whatever Foster came out with.

"The things I'm drawing, they.." Dalton struggled to find the words and Stella threw him an encouraging smile, attempting to get him to carry on.

"The door?" Foster asked.

"Yeah..and a guy with a hammer?" Dalton informed his brother, desperate to get an answer from him.

Stella looked down to her hands as she fiddled with her rings and nails, dalton slipped his hand into hers and she placed the other one on top.

"I think they could be clues from my past? I don't know..parts that have disappeared because of my coma? I don't know why they're coming out now but they are." Dalton rambled, the grip on Stella's hand growing tighter as she removed her top hand and placed it on his upper bicep to try and calm his ranting and bring his panic back down again.

"I've had this image in my mind for years, mom always says it's not real. It's just a bad dream. But..."

Foster stopped, as if hesitant to tell Dalton more.