Lost In The Fray

Forty Four

Nia

I slide past the group, who makes no move to help me past and push out of the door. The last person I want to see fills my vision. Stormy grey eyes calm me in an instant. I can almost feel his arms around me, holding me afloat.

It takes a moment for me to realise he's with Natalie. One arm around her waist, hers tight around his shoulders. Their faces are inches apart. Milo's face hardens, and he turns back to Natalie with a scowl and backs away from their hold.

I shake my head and turn in the opposite direction towards the languages department. There's no way out here. I'll be trapped if he tries to follow me. Perhaps I can sneak out of a fire escape and blame it on Milo if I get caught.

I dodge through the oncoming students when long slender fingers circle my wrist, giving me a light tug backwards. Already heavy from my lack of sleep and encounter with Natalie, I stumble over my feet, and Milo steadies me with ease.

Whereas before, students bumped into me, unable to see me, they move around Milo and me now like a column without a second glance.

Milo's fingers caress my jaw the way they did when we did yoga together. Soft as a feather, leaving a lingering chill. Heated shivers shoot up and down my spine as I remember our kiss again, and I think about how close we were to doing it again. How much I wanted to.

Milo's thumb pinches softly at my chin as he lifts my face to reach his gaze, but his eyes don't hold the fiery blaze of need I was expecting and the electric buzz running through my body comes to an abrupt stop. It's hard. A mask I've not seen for a long time. His eyes trace my puffy cheeks and dark circles that I failed to cover up this morning.

"Are you okay? I've been trying to find you all week."

"I'm fine." My lie comes out clear. I can tell he knows I'm lying. But I'm unsure if he has worked out why. He drops his hand from my face, shoving them both deep into his short pockets. I miss his touch, and my gaze automatically drops down, resting on his white sports socks pulled up around his ankles. I search my mind for some explanation for the last time I was with Milo. When I fell asleep watching Katy.

Milo fidgets above me, his head shooting around the hallway. "What did she say to you?"

"Huh?" I lift my gaze up to Milo's again. In the dark corridor, silhouetted against the weak lighting, his eyes are almost charcoal. My pale face reflects the high light in each one, giving him lighter pupils. The effect gives him an eerie, almost frightening glare. It's ruined by the fluttering of his unfairly long eyelashes as his eyes flick around us, twitching at our surroundings.

"What did Natalie say to you in the toilet?" His voice is bordering on a growl. He's holding back on his anger for my benefit or his own, I don't know. I expect that if I pulled them out, his hands would be balled into fists.

I want to reach up and slide my palms over his cheeks. Watch as he turns into the touch, his eyes finally relaxing as his eyelashes brush his cheeks. The way he did when I tried to soothe him after he found out Simon is my uncle, when I was trying to show Milo what he means to me. But I can't just kiss him every time I want to. I don't have that luxury. Not anymore. Instead, I must admire his face from afar. Relying on my imagination to fill in the missing pieces rather than finding out what would happen if I was to press my lips to the furrow between his eyebrows or run a finger over his lips.

"Nia?"

I pull out of my thoughts and take in his expression as a whole rather than specific areas of his face.

Worried. He's worried about me.

This is the face I hate. The one I have to watch tighten as I deteriorate. As my disease ruins the lives of those I love.