Endless

A Nightmare on Elm Street

ANGEL'S POV

"We've got to stop meeting like this," I spoke, a raspy chuckle from Sage's chest sounding as we walked to my dorm.

"Indeed, we do," he replied.

After we ran into each other — I'd been heading to the bookstore to find a new read after Carlos and Terry stepped out — I offered to bring him to my dorm to clean him up. Though, I still had zero idea as to why his knuckles were split open.

We arrived at my vacant dorm, and after unlocking the door, I let him in first. He moved past me, his discomfort lacking subtlety, instead making its presence known through his demeanor as his eyes remained glued to the floor.

I motioned for him to sit at my desk, and he obliged as I pulled Carlos' chair from his desk over to mine. I went through an entire process; I removed every item on my desktop, instead placing it all in the drawers beneath. I then went into the bathroom and grabbed the first aid kit and empty trash can. I placed everything onto my now clear desk, Sage's eyes following all of my movements, and knelt down in front of the mini fridge. I pulled out the ice pack that Carlos and I kept in the freezer section and grabbed an unopened water bottle.

Sage pulled his eyebrows together, confused by my buzzing around.

"Don't worry, I know what I'm doing," I assured him, scanning his expression.

"I never said you didn't."

"Your face did," I teased. He smiled softly and looked away.

I proceeded to sit down, setting the trash can in between our feet. I opened the water bottle and grabbed Sage's hand gently, causing him to wince at the movement.

"Sorry," I muttered, glancing up at him, then back down to his hand. I felt that curious gaze on me, yet I resisted the urge to meet it, focusing instead on his injury. "So, you want to tell me how you did this?" I finally asked.

"Would you like to tell me why you've been crying?" My eyes snapped up to his and I frowned.

"Sorry?"

"Your eyes are bloodshot red, so you're either high or you've been crying." I chewed at my lip, a nervous tick I'd developed — normally only when I couldn't pick at my nails, which was the current case — my eyes falling. "Which one is it, Angel?"

Here was my dilemma; I didn't want to tell him I'd been crying, essentially over him, and lead him to believe I was crazy. Yet, I was a terrible liar, so making something up would be a disaster. I sighed in defeat.

"Crying."

"Why?"

"Why are your knuckles split open?"

"I asked you first."

"Actually, I asked you first." He sighed heavily and gazed down at his hand.

"I punched a door," he admitted meekly, as if embarrassed. I stared at him, his eyes not rising to meet mine.

"What door?"

"The exit doors on my building." My eyes widened a slight fraction.

"Sage—"

"I know, it was stupid. Really stupid." His eyes looked sad, heavy, and I felt really bad for him. I wanted to know what was wrong. I wanted to help.

"Why did you do it?" He let out a long breath.

"My friends... who also happen to be my roommates," he revealed reluctantly. I understood all too well how angry friends could make you.