Butterfly Keeper // h.s. au

Chapter Thirty

I take in a deep breath, cold air filling my lungs and clearing my nostrils with a crisp winter smell. My hand hovers only inches from the door, fingers cradled into a fist, but every time I go to connect my knuckles to the wood I'm always met with a hesitation. They never quite connect, collide, knock together to create that beckoning sound.

I've had all day to prepare for this, sat through all my classes with a short line of interest for anything that I was being taught. My eyes always phasing out on the teacher as everything seemed to fade into my peripheral vision, students turning into blurry dots and wipe boards turning into white masses. I had it all thought out, every word I would speak to my good friend in a distressed state. I would shuffle the order of the words around, feeling more satisfied with my new layout of speech. But the satisfaction never lasted long, it always faded into a gnawing anxiety deep inside me.

The only class I could remotely pay attention in was Mr. Payne's. He always seemed happy to see me, greeting me with a friendly handshake and sometimes even an air kiss as he asked if I was well. I had expected him to be more solemn today, with the news of Niall Horan's death fresh in everyone's minds as it was the campus gossip for sure, but he seemed content. I suspect that maybe he was good at hiding his feelings, who could know? He had put all that work into finding this poor boy for over a two week period and it all amounted to one simple fact. He was dead. He is dead. Niall Horan is dead, and I'm not sure if anyone really knows what to do with that tragic piece of heart splitting information.

So here it is, I have to do this for Courtney, there is not a chance that I could back out now. I'm just worried, and maybe even a little scared. Zayn seemed bad before Niall was found to be dead, only a missing person on a crisp sheet of white paper, I can't even begin to imagine what his feelings are like right now. So no, maybe I'm not just doing this for Courtney and her uncertain whisper of an unborn child, I'm doing this for Zayn, and maybe even Niall too. I'm doing this and it's too late to turn around.

My cold fist covered in dry, windswept, skin finally collides with the harsh wood of Zayn's apartment door, and it's almost as if I'm watching myself perform the action in slow motion. My eyes catch on Harry's ring, glinting around my thumb and helping settle something inside me as I deliver the second knock straight after the first. I called him today, before my classes, feeling hopeless and overwhelmed. He didn't pick up, much to my dismay. I miss him too much already.

After I've delivered three steady knocks to the door, I wait. And I don't wait long because I can already hear a quake of footsteps coming from inside. I stand there, twisting Harry's ring nervously around on my thumb and slightly leaning my weight onto my toes while I wait for an answer. The blinds in the window to my right suddenly rustle and two of the off white strips of flimsy plastic part as caramel eyes peer out at me, slightly clouded from the dirty glass of the window.

Only seconds later I'm hearing the lock on the door clicking and I'm suddenly met with the distressed figure of a boy I almost do not recognize. He's shirtless, his tattoos that I didn't know he had are on display for me to run my eyes over, but I'm more shocked by the jutting out of his ribs through his covering of abnormally pale skin. His stomach is sucked in tight, like his skin has been bought in a size just too small for his skeleton. His shorts almost fall off of his fragile hips with his knees looking as if he'd collapse from the slightest bump to his frame. And then my eyes are on his face, cheekbones more prominent than ever and eyes sucked into his head. An orange beanie covers his now extra short hair, the line of his buzzed scalp peeking from the front of his hat. The connection of his eyes to mine are weak, only holding the faintest hint of the sparkle I'm used to.

He doesn't say anything, only side stepping and offering a weak motion of his hand for me to come in. I take hesitant steps into his apartment, an odd smell hitting me soon as I come in. It smells as if something has been burning in here, the smell being sour and earthy. I stop myself from wrinkling my nose as I don't want him to see the action.