why we fall apart

twenty fifth ; why we fall apart

"I miss you."

"We're not doing this," I said brusquely. "Not here, not now." 

"Then when?" I glanced at the boy behind the bars of Crawford's- now Saint Xenia's- courtyard fence.

Alex. 

He was sure a sight for sore eyes. The same shaggy hair and bright eyes, a face full of naivety and hope, something I couldn't help but ruin each time I came in contact with it. So I ran away. And here he was, running to his doom: me.

"Never." I tightened the straps of my backpack to raise it higher on my back and turned my heel.

"Gracie!" His voice was desperate, dragging me back to him with sympathy. I only looked back and shook my head, before dissipating into the crowd of milling Crawford kids.

It was better this way.

"Chalk up one more hit for little miss heartbreaker," Tristan chuckled. I swiveled to find the sound of his voice and found him leaned against a pole supporting the hallway eave.

Tristan was pale. Sickly pale. His hair was a whitish blond, his skin a pallid shade of eggshell, and his entire demeanor made me feel as if he were a ghost. Like he was fading away.

"Creep. What are you doing here?" I scoffed, crossing my arms, which made Tristan smile.

"Just enjoying the weather," he shrugged.

I had to agree. It was a perfectly sunny day.

"Whatever," I muttered, brushing past him to get to my next class.

"Don't forget, girlie– oh, who am I kidding. With a face like that covering your attitude, you'll break his heart without even trying," Tristan smirked.

I scowled, and he only laughed, a cold, humorless laugh. One I'd gotten accustomed to.

"I didn't forget. I even found something out I think you wanna know." This caught Tristan's attention. "The dean is posing as a student, and rooms in 148 B, next to me."

Tristan grinned. "The soup thickens."

"He's at least six foot, has an accent, and has brown hair and brown eyes. You wouldn't be able to spot him in a crowd," I said. "He's very average."

"If you know what he looks like, we're good," Tristan replied, deep in thought.

I had a question on the tip of my tongue but I swallowed it. I already knew the answer to it, I was sure. But asking and hearing the answer would only get my hopes up.

Instead, I mumbled, "Later," and left.

I was late for history with Ms. Werner, and got another detention. I wasn't too miffed about it. Not that I had any friends to miss hanging out with anyways.

Alex hated me, I was sure, even though he kept rebounding to me in moments of vulnerability, and Tristan didn't count as a friend. I didn't know what he was. We were strangers on our level of familiarity, yet we were starting to become something else. Perhaps partners in crime, if it got that far.

Detention was interesting today.

Some girl named Missy made the teacher supervising cry, and we all took the opportunity to get out. Among the escapees was none other than the dean himself. 

I ran into him as we skirted down the second floor corridor.

"You again?" I grumbled, turning on my charm. The light sputtered and died with a croak. I had the charm of a moldy fish eyeball.

"Oh! You're that girl in 148 A!" Lee exclaimed. I nodded, not trusting myself to keep my mean sounding words in. "Pardon me for not recalling, but what is your name?"

We descended the staircase in silence, and then stepped off to the side to talk.

"Gracie," I muttered, stubbing the toe of my shoe into the floor.

Lee– or Liam, as I should probably call him in my head, or else I'll slip up– starting tapping his foot and looking off to the side, creating yet another awkward pause.

"D-do you think we could be friends? I don't really know anyone and I'm honestly kind of lost... as you can probably infer."

Was he serious? This was almost too easy. Easier than taking candy from a baby. The baby had just given me candy without my asking.

I mustered my best smile, which was honestly a little gruesome, and stuck out a hand.

"Sure. Friends."

Liam grinned in relief and shook back.

"Friends."