𝐀𝐧𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐇𝐞𝐫 | ✎

xx.

I'M WRITING SOMETHING down in a notebook. The rhythmic tapping of Dean's fingers against the hard wood desk, echoes through the silent room.

I tilt my head towards him, he's reading a book. 

He looks so bored.

Clearing my throat, I rip the sheet of paper out of the book and slide it towards him. He looks at it, chuckles, then looks at me. Adjusts himself in his seat.

The tapping stop.

"I thought you'll have me reading this book until my eyes fall out of their sockets," he slams the book shut, before stretching in his chair. My eyes take a quick glance at his midriff. I look back at him, he didn't notice me staring.

I lean back in my chair, eyes focused on the four hundred-and eighty-paged book sitting idle on the table. I cross my arms across my chest, stare at him. My tongue poking the side of my mouth.

"From the pages you've read, give me a brief summary of Romeo and Juliet," he glares at me, smiles while shaking his head.

"You're joking, right?"

"Why? Was it funny?" I tilt my head to the right, "Go on, I'm waiting."

"Okay . . . it's about two horny teenagers who do shit they're not supposed to do. Um—forbidden love, I guess. And the girl stole your name but misspelled it. Happy?"

"If you write that in your script, what do you think you'll get?"

"Hundred over hundred." 

"Yeah, and I'm Willian Shakespeare," I say while rolling my eyes. "Romeo and Juliet is a classic. It's one of the first plays written by William Shakespeare and it follows two teenage lovers, Romeo and Juliet. It's a story about tragedy and romance. Where two rival families—the Montague and the Capulet—disapprove of the young romance between the two, making the lovers want for one another intensify. But you see, everything good comes to an end, when Romeo drinks a deadly poison, killing him. And Juliet, not wanting to live without her love, stabs herself to death."

"If you give an explanation like that, you're bound to get your full mark," I sigh. "You really have to take this seriously, Dean. Just read it, the next time we meet we'll discuss it."

"That's what you said the last time you gave me a reading assignment. We never discussed shit! I was there, reading Macbeth and the likes, and you didn't even ask me one question about it!" he scoffs, "If I knew that was the case, I wouldn't have suffered my poor brain to read those tiny words."

"I'm sorry about that, I promise it won't be like that this time. We're much closer to the deadline, and we'll meet with each other a lot during the following days."

"Yeah, I guess," he says while folding the edges of the paper I gave to him.

I turned away at that moment, picking up my phone to check the time. It's already evening.

"I should leave before it gets dark," I murmured to myself as I started placing things back in my bag.

"You're leaving already?" Dean says, his eyes still focused on the piece of paper. 

"Yeah, it's getting late, and I want to get home before night comes." 

I'm brushing hair strands behind my ears. I removed my hair from its bun hours ago, but now, I'm regretting that decision. Picking up the hair band, I tie it loosely around my hair in a ponytail, before lifting my bag off the table and slinging it across my shoulder.

As I was about to say my goodbyes to Dean, he suddenly grabbed my hand before placing the tiny, folded paper in it, that now had the resemblance of a ring. A paper ring.

I looked up at him, my faced laced with confusion. He did nothing but smile at me, before taking my other hand in his and lead me out of his room and down the hall. 

We stopped in front of a door that was left ajar. Peeking through, Dean saw his sister, Daphne, sleeping peacefully on the ground next to her toys. The television in the room still on.

He then creeped into the room. His feet treading lightly against the marble floors, as if it were made of needles, towards his baby sister, before gently lifting her off the ground and into his arms. 

I followed a few paces behind him as he made his way towards Daphne's room. When he opened her room door and switched on the lights, I didn't dare enter. Instead, I watched from the corridor as he laid her down on her bed, before tucking her in and kissing her head goodnight. I could faintly hear her whisper it back as he smiled at her.

I couldn't help the frown that captured my lips and held it in place. What I witnessed made me wish that I had this type of bond with my own sister. That we could be able to look out for one another, no matter the challenge. 

But life isn't that simple, nor is it ever kind.

I heard Dean's voice from the inner rooms in my head, echoing loudly in order to snap me out of my foolish trance.

There was no need to think about my family nor wish for a life not given to me. Rather, I must continue on this treacherous path. Slowly losing my dignity, as both my mother and sister wish me nothing but hatred.

"What?" I managed to rush the words out of my mouth. I needed to respond to the incoherent words just spoken, even if it makes me appear deaf.

"You were frowning just now. I was worried, so I was asking if you're okay," Dean's brows furrow in concern. And then I realize, he's concerned. About me.

"You were worried about. . . me?"

"Well, yeah. We're friends, aren't we? That's what friends do; we look out for each other."

Friends . . .

"And you've been looking after me for a while now, with the whole test and panic attack thing. So, I just want to return the favour. Maybe then, I can get a nickname from you."

I laugh at the last part. Forcing my brain to will away the insecurities that normally plague my mind, when I see other family's happiness.

"You have to do something worthy to earn a nickname from me. Nevertheless, I'm fine. I was just thinking about something. And I guess my face turned into a frown."

"You sure?" his right brow raised high, a talent most can't do.

"Positive," I give him the most convincing smile I could do, and he seems to accept it.

We make our way to the front door, and Dean offers to drive me home in one of his father's cars, but I refused. Using the excuse that his sister will be left home alone, and that won't be good.

"I guess this is it, thank you for all your help. I really do appreciate it," he digs his hands in his trouser pockets, and I hate myself for watching every moment. For wanting to memorize the way his muscles flexed under the strain of his shirt. For the way my teeth bit my bottom lip when his grey eyes turned silver under the dim rays of the setting sun.

Can't I be normal for once? We're friends. I should be grateful we went up a tier, no longer acquaintances. I shouldn't be thinking these things. These thoughts.

"And thank you for the ring. It reminds me of one of my favorite songs—"

"Paper rings by Taylor Swift," I look up at him, shocked.

"H-how did you know?"

"I just know. Goodnight, Angel."

After a beat, I spoke. "Goodnight, Dean."

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

i know you missed me.