Little Black Notebook | Editing | ✓

10

Hello my dearest friends and sorry for the wait c:

I'm finally gonna be able to write normally now, because my finals are over! That also means I'm gonna be reviewing the whole book, re-reading and probably changing some parts of the chapters (nothing big) that I think are cringey or need better form.

This chapter is kinda short? But I hope you'll like it. 

This chapter is dedicated to Dean's most dedicated fan since the very beginning. You know it gurlll.

Vote and don't hesitate to comment!

*Make sure to check out the attached audio to complete the chapter atmosphere*

"I'm sorry," 

I whisper the words into the phone.

"Yuna..." Jenna's voice cracks. "What are you... it's four in the morning... on a Saturday...why are you awake?"

"Goodbye." my words tremble as I breathe out. 

"Where are you?" Her voice becomes more alarmed, and I could feel her starting to panic. "Yuna, where are you?!"

Air catches up in my throat and I starting coughing. 

"You okay there?" Dean gives me a curious look. 

"Yeah," I say, and shake my head to get rid of the intruding memory. I press the sides of my head with my hands to keep myself steady. "Sorry." 

 The unpleasant flashbacks just come out of nowhere sometimes, and I really can't do much to make them stop.  

"No need to apologize." He states, "You just kind of spaced out for a few moments and then-"

"I tried to kill myself." I cut him off.

"You- wait," The pitch of his voice changes slightly. "What?" The car in front stops abruptly and he steps on the brakes. I jerk forward, for once thankful for my habit of putting my seat belt on.

"The reason why I'm in group therapy," I say, pushing away from the front of the car back into the seat once when we started moving. "Now you know."

There was a long stretch of silence in which I almost wanted to open the doors and jump out, despite the car going. There's no way in hell I ever imagined telling a person, that I know little-to-nothing about, about my personal problems. I barely talk about it with my counselor, let alone anyone else.

*

"We're here." I say, my voice coming out slightly raspy from being silent for quite some time.

There wasn't much conversation going on after my confession, to be exact. Only when I gave him slight directions, but I didn't need to, since he knew his way around pretty well. I spent my time looking through the window and observing the surroundings I know all too well. The houses that all look the same, yet every each one of them has something characteristic about it. Old ladies that are plowing through their garden every spring. Small kids playing tag. A woman who I see walk her dog at the same time every day.

Dean's car slowly came up to a halt in front of a normal-sized suburban brick house with a large green patio that's decorated with various groups of flowers, courtesy of my mother. The house looks normal, but it's somewhere where I spend most of my days and where most of my memories, good and bad, reside. 

It's home.

"Well," Dean stretches his hands and just lets them fall back limply. 

"Sorry for being a shitty companion," I say, picking up my bag off of my lap.

Leaning back on the car seat, he looks at me and shrugs. "Better any kind of company than no company."

He's completely right.  

I open up the doors and sit up, brushing up invisible pieces of dust off my jeans.

Sometimes, just the sheer presence of someone is enough, no matter what you're feeling towards each other.  

"Wait," He says before I close the doors. "There's something I need to tell you."

I look straight into his eyes, a pang of curiosity spreading through my body like wildfire. 

"You're not alone." The sparkle of sincerity crosses his blue irises.

Because sometimes, the worst feeling is to be alone.    

We gaze at each other, not being able to tear our eyes apart. A non-verbal language, me as I stand there, half bent and ready to leave, and him, left hand on the wheel and the other keeping the doors from slamming shut.  A non-verbal language in which I could for the first time ever read from a face of a boy, that I got to know just a few days ago, that there's so much more under that superior, stone cold exterior. So many things that remind me of me.

And true to his words, in that moment, I felt like I wasn't alone.