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♡
We sneaked out of school through the side doors and ended up getting yelled at, and chased by a security guard. I clenched the yellow envelope tightly while Peter grabbed my hand and pulled me hard; my feet nearly lifted up off the ground and glided behind him. I felt like a rag doll as he tightened his grip on my hand.
I was completely out of breath by the time we made it three blocks away. Peter however, stood straighter than ever with his head held high as the breeze tussled his curls.
"Well that was fun." He smiled revealing the shine that was his teeth.
I held onto my knees while bending down, trying to catch my breath. I pushed my glasses up and frowned at him. "Sure...maybe for you."
He stared at me longer than necessary, and I felt my underarms get warm. I removed my hoodie, and re-did my ponytail, some of my loose red curls falling down my face.
Peter began looking around, as if trying to listen to something. I followed his gaze and raised an eyebrow.
"Kavinsky? You okay?"
It was like he hadn't even heard me. He looked so concerned and I quickly remembered I wasn't even with the actual Peter. I was with... with... his... soul?? Or...
"Shhh!" He put a finger to his lips. "The doctors are talking..."
We were in the middle of the sidewalk so I gently held his arm and led him down the rest of the street, toward the various shops.
"What are they saying?" I asked, one hand on him, the other tucked in the pocket of my hoodie, clutching the yellow envelope tightly.
He shook his head slowly. "No, no, no, no..."
Fear mixed with shock and confusion spread across his face and I felt the need to protect him from the entire world.
"God, I have to wake up Kizzy."
"I, I know you do. What's wrong?"
.. They're discussing it. I-"
A knot formed in my throat and I couldn't breathe. Looking ahead, I continued pulling him along toward the familiar diner we had to get to.
Once inside, the warmth enveloped us and the scent of syrup and cooked bacon shoved itself into my nostrils. My stomach grumbled but I was far from hungry. We sat in a booth toward the back of the diner, the clinging sound of forks and spoons and hushed murmurs floating around us.
"...They want to pull the plug on me, Kizzy." Peter gulped.
I bit my lip until it hurt. "They won't."
He stared out the window, his mind in a completely different universe. "But they said..."
