𝐆𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐒𝐤𝐢𝐞𝐬┊✓

t w e n t y | f a n a a

«not edited»

fanaa (v) destruction of the self, "destroyed in love" —
[origin : urdu]

2 weeks later
n o v e m b e r s e v e n t e e n t h

I was walking the halls to creative writing class with Pyper and Blake on either side of me and I felt both of their eyes on me. And then to make sure I wasn't just imagining things, I looked over at Pyper and then Blake and they were both looking at me, their looks mirroring each other's: soft eyes and faint smiles.

"What?" I mumbled out feeling my cheeks tint.

"Nothing," Blake said cheekily, "We're all just happy that you didn't leave after we told you about us," he finished with the same faint smile. But it didn't quite reach his eyes, neither did Pyper's. Something with the Worthington's since November started, they've all been melancholic and quieter than usual.

"I didn't wanna be the only girl anymore," Pyper pouted and I laughed as we entered the classroom.

We all took our seats and got writing in our notebooks/journals, but my thoughts seemed to be occupied with a certain ocean-eyed boy.

Since November started, it looked like Phoenix started a new trend for himself: disappearing off the face of earth and then showing his face once every few days. And those few times I'd see him was my only way to know he was still alive and okay. Sadly, I could count the times he's actually shown up for class since November 1st: five classes. Five fucking classes. Whether Pyper, the guys, and I were hanging out in school, back at my place or the Worthington's, Phoenix never really was around. At the Worthington mansion, he was always locked up in his room, at my place, he never came with the gang. But when he did make an appearance, either his eyes were bloodshot or he looked like utter hell, unbelievably tired. He had yet to show up today - depending if he even believed today was good enough for him, or however he chose which days to show up - since the last time he was here was last Wednesday for creative writing. And then he'd just disappear once again. And I knew better than to ask, even if I was dying to know.

I don't have much written on my paper by the time the bells rings and I just stack my books messily on each other, planning to throw it all in my locker and and just grab my Spanish notebook and take a nap in class.

Judah and I fell in step with each other on the way to my locker with the gang trailing behind. I exchange my books and grab my denim pencil case before shutting my locker. Turning around, my jaw dropped as I came face to face with the one and only Phoenix Worthington.

"Étoile filante," he breathed out, taking a step closer to me. His eyes were not cold, not emotionless, but dull and tired, and the dark rings under his eyes only made it more known that he's been having sleepless nights.

"Phoenix," I said faintly and a little light seemed to shine in his eyes - or I'm just imagining things. Probably the latter. He came by my side, resting an arm around my lower back and I most definitely did not miss the glares exchanged between Phoenix and Judah.

Silence settled within us all and Phoenix wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me close against his body and walking us down the hall, - to his locker I'm guessing - not waiting on the gang.

As he spun the dial on his locker, I leaned on the one next to his, watching him intently. He grabbed two notebooks and a denim pencil case like mine, isn't that something, and closed his locker, staring right back at me.