𝖋𝖑𝖔𝖜𝖊𝖗 𝖕𝖔𝖜𝖊𝖗 ⋆ 𝕶𝖊𝖛𝖎𝖓 𝖉𝖆𝖞

𝖙𝖊𝖓

╔═══°∴,*⋅✲══〖✰〗══✲⋅*,∴°═══╗

          Fridays suck. Daisy has no classes, and even though it's only the second week of semester and she's in her third year of college out of five, she has homework. It sickens her; she only chose to study architecture because she likes math and she thought there wouldn't be any essays involved. Boy, was she wrong.

          The computer sits before her. The words 'When dissecting the role of ancient Eastern cultures as a driving force behind modern architectural growth...' blink at her on the white screen. Daisy has long since lost interest, deciding that the view out of her window is much more interesting. A group of students are playing with a flying disc on the lawn outside of Fox Tower. She wonders if they're athletes blowing off steam, or friends attempting to bring Ultimate Frisbee to Palmetto's line-up of sports offerings.

          There's a dull ache behind her eyes. It's been there since last night, when she ran at such a speed on the treadmill that the violent vomiting afterwards made her pupils sting with unshed tears. God, does she just want to cry. She misses the days of teardrops during sad movies, or frustrated weeping after a lost game or a hard assignment. Instead, she does nothing. Even sorrow is hard to come by these days, and it used to be the reigning emotion of her heart.

          She knows what will make her feel more human. She knows what the cure to her illness is.

          Her fingers itch, and she fights the urge to tap in that familiar number on her phone. Instead, she digs her fingernails into the soft flesh of her thigh. A hoodie covers her top half, and her favourite pair of little training shorts cover the rest. Despite it being early September, the sticky heat of summer still hanging low in the air, she feels a chill. It's been this way since... well, she knows when it all started.

          In frustration, she lets her hand fall on the lid of her laptop and sends it down to smack shut. Her degree is a waste of time. Her bare minimum grades get her through, and she's only here to play sport. Daisy would never risk flunking out, but she'll also never spend more time than absolutely necessary on her school work.

          There's a knock on her suite door, and it's a more than welcome distraction. Her legs cross the room before she can even think twice, and on the other side, she finds someone she really, really doesn't want to see.

          "Hey," he says, and Daisy closes the door in his face. His foot somehow ends up in the doorframe, preventing her from fully snapping it shut. "Don't be such a bitch. Just hear me out."

          "Great intro to a conversation, Two," she mutters. "Calling me a bitch, real nice."

          "Shut up," he says, shaking her loose from the door and pushing his way inside. She sighs, crosses to the couch, and waits for him to take a seat opposite her.

          Her brain wanders for a moment. What would she have done, a year ago today, if Kevin Day had walked into her room. Would she have screamed? Cried? Jumped his bones? It makes her heart wrench to think about who she was, who he was, and what they are now. And what a miserable pair they are.

          "I wasn't purposely being a dick to you," Kevin says. Daisy folds her arms over her chest. "I wasn't! I don't give a shit about your problems, or what baggage you bring to the court. I care about my game, and I care about yours."

          "Don't," snaps Daisy. He scowls, opens his mouth, but she beats him to it. "What I bring to the court is my business, yeah, but it's going to affect how I play. If I go too hard, my heart goes into overload and I have to take a breather. My ankle still tweaks a little sometimes-- and don't even start, because I know your hand hurts all the time. I'm trying my best. I don't want your pity, but all I ask is for a little respect. I'm learning this stupid game all over again for you."