Three Floors Down (W2S)

assigning me to you

Delilah and I continue to often see each other in the lift. Our conversation flows a little more smoothly now she knows I'm not rude or anything. I notice how she often doesn't leave throughout the morning, unless it's to attend college; which I have now noticed, she wears a student ID for. She never leaves on a Friday night but is often out all Wednesday which I have found odd. She's still not comfortable with talking to Freezy, Chip or Cal yet; which I completely understand and don't blame her for-I barely tolerate them some days.

However, today is a very different day.

It begins with Delilah not being in the lift on a Monday morning; she always is. I put it down to her being late but I return around the same time she usually does and notice she is no-where to be found. I feel my stomach drop at the idea of her changing her schedule because I have completely planned mine around hers. I enter my apartment and walk around, pacing. I can tell I'm annoying Freezy but I can't get her off my mind. Is she okay? Is she hurt? Where is she? Does she need help? 

I grab a piece of paper and a black marker before jogging down the three flights of stairs to her floor. I walk to the end and I know it's her flat because I've seen her go in so many times. I deliberate whether I should knock on the door but decide against it. I take the lid off of the marker and tear a small piece of paper away from the sheet. I carefully write 'are you okay?' on the piece of paper before sliding it under her door. I sit by her door, watching YouTube videos on my phone until I hear a door slam. I look around and see no-one anywhere and work out it must have came from inside her apartment. I notice the slither of light which was being fed through the small slit under her door has been partly diminished. She must be standing there. Twenty seconds later, a small piece of paper is being slid back under the door. I see she's written on the back:

'yes'

Well, I never thought it would be easy. 

I rip another small piece of paper off of the sheet and write the words 'it's okay to not be'. I slide it under the door and can tell she's waiting there.

Ten seconds later, the paper is slid back under.

'why are you here?'

I write another message and pass it under, 'you weren't in the lift this morning.'

She replies:

'I got kicked off of my course'

I frown, confused since she seems to have the most talent out of her classmates and that is not me being bias. 

'why?'

She replies a bit slower this time, but she does:

'never turned assignments in'

I write back:

'why?'

She writes back:

'I couldn't do it'

I reply:

'come talk to me'

She doesn't reply, but instead opens the door, slowly. She comes out and closes the door, leaning against it. She has a burgundy jumper on (her favourite colour, I remember) and some black jeans on. Her hair is slightly messy in a bun but I don't think she is the type to bother with what her hair looks like.

"Why could you not do them?" I ask, breaking the silence.

She shakes her head, looking down, "it's not that I couldn't, I-I-"

"Hey, it's alright, it's just me, yeah?" I smile at her and she nods.

"I did them, I just couldn't hand them in." She mumbles.

"You didn't get there in time?" I ask, not sure of what she means.

"No, I couldn't talk to the teacher." She whispers.

"Was he rude or-" She cuts me off, surprisingly.

"On the first day he joked that if I couldn't talk to anyone, I had zero chances of becoming anyone notable and I just-talking to people is already hard, talking to someone who made fun of me not being able to talk is even worse." She fumbles with her fingers as she said that, I note that it's the longest sentence she's ever said to me and smile slightly at the fact that she is getting more comfortable with me as time goes on. 

"He sounds like a dick." I mutter and she chuckles.

"I shouldn't let it get to me." She shakes her head.

"It's okay to let stuff get to you, I get comments all the time on my videos telling me how shit I am and that I should stop and it hurts me but I know it's normal to feel like that." I say to her and she nods.

"I don't know what to do now." She whispers, hitting her head softly against the door.

I think over what she said and look to her, "go get your assignments." 

"Why?" She asks.

"Because we're going to hand them in, together."