‡† The Unseen †‡

03 † Dead end †

“Yeah,” Raven said, voice a bit too flat. “Just tired.”

“Tired?” Jace laughed. “You? You were running laps around us yesterday. What happened—rom-com marathon keep you up?”

Raven smirked—tight, but believable. “You wish.”

Jace laughed again and moved on, calling out to someone else down the hall.

Raven turned back to his locker, fingers returning to his temple. He stared blankly at the books inside for a moment too long. Everything felt heavier today. Not just his backpack or his body, but the space around him. The air itself.

He pulled out his notebook and shoved it into his bag. He didn’t need half the books in there, but carrying them felt like the only part of his routine he could still control.

“Raven!”

Another voice—cheerful, high-pitched. Too loud. Emily, from chemistry class.

She waved at him from a few lockers down. “Don't forget to come to study group later!”

He blinked, forcing a polite smile as he nodded. “Yeah. Wouldn’t miss it.”

She smiled back, unaware of the blatant lie stretched across his face.

And just like that, he was walking again—shoulders screaming, head pounding, face smooth and unreadable.

Because no one could know.

Not now.

Not yet.

Just one more year, Raven. One more year and it would all be over.

Would it?

That's when Raven caught sight of him. Again.

Devon.

It seemed each time he looked at the guy, all of Raven's problems faded into the background.

Maybe it was because his problems were more dire than his.

He could see more bandages. Another tattoo on his earlobe. A piercing. Scabbed knuckles. Raven caught up with him, worried. Desperate to make him see how worried he was about him, he called out.

"Devon, we need to talk about the project. It's due next week," Raven said, his tone sharper than intended.

Devon paused, his eyes meeting Raven's for a fleeting second. "Do whatever you want," he muttered, then walked away.

Raven stood frozen, his fists clenched at his sides. The urge to shout, to demand a real response, surged within him, but he swallowed it down, the weight of helplessness pressing heavily on his chest. It seemed as if the instant he left, all his own aches and pains came back with full force. It was annoying.

Why can't the guy just accept help? If anyone were to help Raven, he'd be more than happy to accept it. So why..?

Raven pushed it all to the back of his mind and pulled one priority in front of him.

Bear the pain, and fake the smile.

———

By third period, Raven’s head felt like it was full of static. He could barely focus on the board. The fluorescent lights above hummed like they were laughing at him, and every tick of the clock was another tiny hammer behind his eyes.

He pressed his fingers against his temple again, shifting in his seat. His shoulders felt tight as wire, and every breath made his chest feel smaller.

Devon was seated two rows over, at the edge by the window—hood up, sleeves down, sketchbook half-hidden behind a textbook. As always.