The Way We Almost Were ✓

24| lifeline

This was Nick's life for now -- and for the foreseeable future; a life made up of almosts. Nick was beginning to think that was the saddest word in the entire language. Almost.

"Um," Nick began after a moment of quiet, clearing his throat, "all teasing aside, I am not in the best state of mind today. Last night was... It was rough. So, I might not talk much, maybe? And keep staring into space, too." He bit the inside of his cheek, a trait of his whenever in discomfort or anxiety. "Just giving you a heads up."

When Dale didn't say anything right away, Nick forced himself to look at him.

"What?" He asked defensively.

Dale sighed softly and shook his head, but Nick saw the traces of a smile on his face. "Nothing," he told Nick, "just... This is the first time you've given me a heads up? Or, like, any warning as to how your mood's going to be for the rest of the day... It's progress, I guess." He shrugged, eyes soft and warm.

Nick released the inner skin of his cheek from the grip between his teeth, "yeah, I just don't want to keep coming off as a jackass, I guess. At least, not to you. So, here's my stay-away-for-the-rest-of-the-day card." He slapped Dale on the arm, and started walking past him. "See ya."

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Nick's eyes were burning by the time Professor Howard's class was scheduled to start.

He'd reached the lecture hall earlier than usual -- twenty whole minutes earlier, in fact -- but unfortunately for Nick, there were quite a handful of other students who'd arrived around that time too. So some peace and quiet were definitely out of the picture.

But peace and quiet was what Nick needed right now -- the immense lack of sleep last night was taking its toll on his mood and intensifying that burning sensation behind his eyelids. He was scared he might just doze off while Howard was lecturing, and he really didn't want to risk doing that.

He inhaled shakily and let out a long, heavy breath before leaning back against his chair, resting his arm on the foldable desk attached to the side of the chair. Nick swept his eyes over the class, trying hard to keep away images of blood splatters and echoes of screams that continued to haunt his mind to this day.

His eyes fell on a couple of boys across him, huddled over a phone and snickering over something -- then on a trio of girls with their books arranged close together while they furiously argued over something written there -- then on a couple in the corner, sharing a pair of earphones as the girl took a nap and the guy flipped through some of his notes -- then Nick's gaze fell on the door and a familiar face framed with long dark blonde locks walked in, making everyone and everything else his eyes had just captured suddenly irrelevant.

Bree Salvare's eyes connected with his, and Nick faltered in his movements. But Nick had already been still all this while, so what was it that he faltered in? Definitely not his movements. Not his breathing either, no. That was as steady as ever. Nick Fraser faltered in being. In the littlest things, like how he was about to blink before she walked in but then once she had, the blink had stopped halfway and his eyes just flew back open instead. Like how Nick had been about to exhale softly through his mouth before she walked in but then once she had, his lips sealed shut and that one tiny breath was tossed back in, washed down his throat to never see the light of day.

Nick saw Bree's lips curve up into the softest of smiles, her honey-brown eyes alight with laughter as always, almost like they sought joy and pleasure in a place nobody else knew of. She lifted a hand and waved at him, all the while walking towards him and that empty chair that sat beside his.