The Bad Girl Attack

chapter SEVENTY SIX // last chapter

76 (unedited) weLL NOTHING IN THIS BOOK IS EDITED SO

He kept staring at the door, until the knob turned and a head popped out.

"Yes-? Oh, Lucas!"

Lucas so wished Claire carried this enthusiasm with her everytime she saw him. Disappointingly, it was Chandler who had opened the door. And now, he had opened it wide, "Hop in!"

Lucas looked down at his boots. "No, it's alright. Can you get Claire to come out? I-if you don't mind?" He muttered, the flowers almost squished between his arms and his chest.

"Surely. But it's cold, why don't you come in-?"

"Please?"

Chandler just nodded blankly, and stepped back to go get his cousin out, not before eyeing the roses and smiling softly.

Lucas felt like he looked desperate, as if he was trying extremely hard, which he was, and everyone noticed expect Claire. Would she like his presence? Would she like to spend Christmas with him every year until one of them takes a leave? Would Claire be proud of his confession and confidence?

He had no clue about it at all.

Yes, he was here to confess. And it was eating him up, through it wasn't the first time.

He would make it official this time. He would make sure that everyone knows who he wants to spend his future with

"...Lucas?"

His head shot up to look at the owner of the soft whisper, and found himself standing in front of Claire. All she did was step out into the cold and close the door behind her. His throat went dry.

"C-Claire-"

"Why are you here?" She asked. "You look cold." And she dusted off the snow from his shoulders and took off her own warm jacket to wrap it around the shaking boy. "Who asked you to get out of your house? You'll fall sick, and we don't want that now on Christmas, do we?"

He lowered his gaze. "I brought you flowers." He mumbled, before extending his hands and handing it over to her, to which she just stared. "Merry Christmas."

".. Merry Christmas." She said, but made no move to accept the roses.

"T-The flowers?" His eyes turned doey, a little wet and hurt that she didn't accept them.

She gulped. "Why?" She breathed. "Why did you buy me flowers?"

He wanted to stab himself with a spear and dig his own grave. How embarrassing.

"Because it's Christmas-" he started, but he went quiet. "Actually, I'm here to confess. And I don't care that you won't take the flowers."

He dropped the roses next to his feet, like blood stains on white marble.

"We've been through this." She stated, looking away, not even a single expression showing up on her bland face.

"I'm here because I realised... I.. I came to ask you .. about.." and how he wished someone else could speak for him, where the words wouldn't be crumbling in his throat under the pressure. He gripped his long sleeved jacket in his fists tightly. "I want you to be- m-my,"

"Would you like to come in?" She asked, already knowing what's to come.

"No." He shook his head. "I want to do it here."

"Okay." She just stared, dull gaze on his bloodshot eyes. "But listen, I know what you're here for. And I also want you to know something, before you waste your words on me, save them." His heart was beating loudly and lively, every passing second made it hard for him to breathe.