Between the Notes and Numbers [ON HOLD]

Chapter 2

AS SOON AS I saw the deep, silvery, bottomless yet soulless eyes staring into my own soul, I panicked.

Matteo wasn't supposed to be back for another month yet.

That was what Mikaela had promised me.

And Mikaela was one of the few people I could trust.

And now that trust was broken.

My face drained of colour, my stomach churned violently, and I could barely suppress the rising tide of nausea. A wave of bile crept up my throat, and I fought back the overwhelming urge to vomit, my body tense and trembling as I struggled to breathe steadily.

I stumbled forward, bumping into Mikaela just as she regained her composure. Hurt flashed across her face, and I jerked my hand to touch her arm.

A gesture to reassure.

A gesture to say, I'm sorry.

A gesture that made no difference.

I scrambled and ran blindly forward, my mind wandering elsewhere. I had to take my mind off those eyes. Anywhere but class.

I couldn't go back to class, I just couldn't.

Matteo would be there, and he would stare at me like he used to do, like he always did, like he always would.

My feet took me to a hauntingly familiar place.

The nurse's office.

With tears streaming down my face, I raggedly wiped the back of my palm over my eyes, leaving wet marks trailing along my skin.

A glass door stood in front of me, and I looked at my reflection.

I looked terrible, destroyed.

Not that it mattered to anyone.

No one cared. No one asked how I was.

No one ever wanted to talk to me.

No one ever noticed.

I took a deep breath and tried my best to regain my composure, even though my breath shook every time I inhaled.

I opened my eyes. My breath still stuttered, but it was the best I could do.

I squeezed my eyes shut and pushed open the door.

The nurse's office was meant to be a small, comforting space, filled with the faint scent of antiseptic and the gentle hum of fluorescent lights.

Soft creams and browns adorned the walls in a checkered pattern with lines crossing over them, an exact reference to the vest that was compulsory with the uniform. It looked really pretty, honestly, but I had no patience to study the patterns like I had weeks before.

A sturdy desk sat against one wall, cluttered with medical forms and a computer, while a bulletin board displayed health information, reminders for vaccinations, and posters promoting wellness.

Useless.

Not like anyone read them anyway.

A thick, padded examination bed, wrapped in crisp white sheets with a soft pillow that was easy to adjust, occupied the centre of the room. Nearby, a small sink was equipped with soap and hand sanitiser, emphasising the importance of cleanliness.

Ironic.

Next to the bed, a rolling cart held basic medical supplies—band-aids, gauze, antiseptic wipes, and a thermometer—all meticulously organized for quick access.

A few white plastic chairs leaned rigidly against the wall, and I felt oddly at peace staring at them.

I took a few steps forward toward the hard chairs.

The nurse looked up from her desk and smiled at my footsteps.

My eyes narrowed slightly.

She smiled knowingly and nodded toward one of the small rooms branching off from the main space. My name was already on the little whiteboard next to it on the wall.

I hated how people assumed.

They were always wrong.

I plastered on a small, practiced smile and shook my head.

The nurse glanced at me, confused, before shaking her head and turning her attention back to her computer.

The steady sound of clicking rose into the room, the buzz muddling up my mind.

I sat down on one of the chairs, leaned my head back against the cool wall, and tried to get any thoughts of those silvery eyes out of my mind.

I stared at the ceiling, counting and recounting the number of lights in the room.

Before long, my eyes closed, and I drifted off into an uncomfortable sleep.

~

Matteo stared blankly at the empty spot where I had just stood moments ago.

He replayed the scene over and over in his head.

He remembered feeling his heart slightly break as he saw my face pale in horror. Just slightly.

Shouldn't I have been happy?

He had come back early to surprise Mikaela as well as me.

He had planned it out very carefully in his mind. He had planned it for weeks. He wanted it to be special. They were all childhood friends after all. Everything had gone according to plan—except for my reaction.

Was it something he had done?

And with that thought in mind, he wandered aimlessly, subconsciously following my path.