Royally Kissed | ✓

27; the curse of abel

―twentyseven―

the curse of abel

IT WAS 3PM.

Cain found himself mere meters off from the university, his back planted against one of the posts that supported the waiting shed at the bus stop. He'd pedaled towards the street that would lead him to the hospital but he was all beside himself when he'd received the message a short while ago, disorienting him from cycling alone.

He wants to go home.
Dunno what else to say. I'm so sorry.

His eyes were trained ahead of the road and no one was really there aside from him. The traffic was on red light and it was like a diabolical caution to the danger they'd all been trying to put off as if there wasn't a big elephant sitting in the room. He wasn't supposed to feel this affected−he ought to be all easygoing and unconcerned. But god, he couldn't help it.

He didn't feel this way before. But there was no denying now. He was terrified; for him and for everyone.

Cain could hardly register the cars dashing past forth and back−just crossing his arms while staring vacantly into the space like he was trying to perceive a limitless hollow. Somewhere, in the distance, he could feel, rather than hear, the rubberlike sound rolling against something cemented. Like tires on a concrete pavement; he couldn't be too sure. Everything was just peripheral to him.

"Hey!"

So what do we do now? How can I make things any better? How do I make him feel any better? Fuck. Just fuck. This is fucking screwed-up−

"Hey, you!" someone called again, probably a girl, if the high-pitched voice that resembled the cat's nails against a board was of any hint. He wasn't too sure; he wasn't really taking notice of it. But when the caller caught his attention from saying something that wasn't really pleasing−like a loser or something, he had to turn his head sideways. "Yeah, you." Jouwee's window was open, her head cocked out of the driver's side. "What're you doing here looking like an old hag?"

He rolled his eyes, standing straight at the balls of his feet. "Hello to you, too. Sup?"

Jouwee ignored it and stepped out of her car, then leaned her back against it. Her crescent dark eyes scanned him top to toe before mirroring his crossed arms with a smug look on her face.

Cain was aware of Jouwee's charisma. Short, shiny black hair−a typical Asian feature, he decided; only now she'd added some teal and gray highlights on it; then there was a choker around her neck and some other black necklaces with pendants he'd suspected that carried some potions and other black magic shit like that. Jouwee Chang was like this hybrid of a china doll who couldn't break a glass and a hellcat who had strong liking for Mayday Parade and Panic! At The Disco, guns, chewing gums, and black lipsticks. Not that he was stereotyping, but she did seem to play the baddie part.

To put it mildly, she was cute but in a feisty way.

He had seen it coming. What with the look of curiosity passing over her face and the slight opening of her mouth, he knew she'd ask somehow. But to his utter surprise, she didn't. Because what she said next made him completely relieved.

She shrugged. "Paige and I are meeting at this café she kept bugging me about. You can come if you want."

He didn't really have the heart to delay his arrival at the hospital but he couldn't snub that sensation in the pit of his stomach, either. The sourness was crawling up his throat, and he'd imagined that it reached his face too.