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THE BATHROOM MIRROR DOESN’T LIE. My skin is pale. Sallow. My eyes are heavy, bloodshot, and half-lidded with exhaustion. I lean closer, grip the sink tighter. My nails dig into the cold porcelain like I’m holding on for dear life.
I can’t keep doing this.
My breath comes out shaky, too fast, too shallow. My chest is tight again. That kind of tightness makes it feel like something’s pressing down on me, and I can’t tell if it’s anxiety or guilt or withdrawal or maybe just everything all at once.
I suck in a breath. It doesn’t help. I try again. Still doesn’t work.
Sleep barely comes. And when it does, it’s short, jagged, and haunted by dreams I can’t remember. My legs feel weak today, my head heavier than usual. I keep shivering even though I’m sweating through my blazer. My body’s playing games I don’t know the rules to.
The door creaks. I straighten up instantly, eyes darting to the mirror. A girl walks in, her hair slicked into a bun, uniform pressed. She hums something under her breath, her voice light and carefree.
She doesn’t notice the way I flinch. Or maybe she does, but doesn’t care.
I paste on the smile. The one I’ve practised in the mirror. The one that says, “Hi, I’m fine, nothing’s wrong, don’t worry about me, I’m just another girl at school trying to survive.”
She nods. I nod. Then I slip out before I fall apart again.
The hallway feels colder than the bathroom. My footsteps echo against the linoleum floor.
Every step I take toward the library, my mind spirals deeper.
What if this doesn’t stop?
What if I never sleep again?
What if Aaron realises I’m a complete mess and decides he doesn’t want to deal with me anymore?
What if everyone finds out I’m a complete mess?
What if-
What if-
What if-
I rub my arms through my sleeves and walk faster.
By the time I push open the door to the library, my heart’s still thudding. It always does that lately-races for no reason, like it knows something I don’t.
Aaron’s already there, hunched over the table like he owns the place. The sleeves of his school shirt are rolled up as he scribbles something on a worksheet like a proper nerd. It’s cute.
He looks up and smiles when he sees me. That soft kind of smile. The kind that doesn’t expect anything from you. “Carmen,” he says, his voice quiet but warm.
“Hey.” I drop into the chair across from him, shoulders aching.
“You alright?”
I nod. A lie. He knows it. Aaron always does. But he doesn’t push, just slides a sheet of paper toward me. “Right, let’s crack on with these. Quadratics. You’re gonna hate this.”
I force a smirk. “I already do.”
But the truth is, I’m not even here. Not properly. I stare at the questions, and the numbers swim. The lines blur. I try to listen, to follow along, but my mind’s somewhere else entirely.
Aaron’s voice fades into background noise.
I’m thinking about the ache in my chest. The one that won’t go away.
I’m thinking about the fact that I nearly went on the bus last night. Nearly went to Trinity to ask for something I promised myself I’d never ask for again.
I’m thinking about how badly I need it. The pills.
“Carmen,” he says softly. I blink. Look up. He’s watching me, pen still in his hand but eyes full of concern. “You’re miles away.”
“I’m sorry. I’m just…”-I swallow hard-“not feeling well.”
“Headache?”
“Didn’t sleep,” I mutter, which is partly the truth.
He puts his pen down. “Blondie…”
“I’m fine. Just tired.”
He leans back in his chair, arms crossed loosely. “You’re not fine. And you don’t have to pretend with me, alright?”
I press my lips together. My throat burns.
“We don’t have to study today,” he says. “We’ll go through it tomorrow instead.”
“I don’t have any free periods.”
“Then come over to mine after school. We’ll do it there.”
I hesitate. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea…”
“No one’ll be home,” he says. “It’ll just be us. Quiet. You can focus better.”
Something in the way he says it makes me feel safe. I hate how much I need that. He’s patient with me. So patient, like no one else has been towards me.
“Okay,” I whisper. “Yeah. Fine.”
He gives me a small smile and starts packing up the sheets. I help him, slower than usual. My hands aren’t quite working right today. It seems like he notices since he grabs my bag for me instead. Small act that says a lot, makes me feel a lot.
As we leave the library, I let my shoulder brush against his. It’s barely a touch, but it helps.
We head to the dining hall. It’s empty except for Ms. Gracie in the kitchen. She looks up, grins.
“Well, if it ain’t me favourite pair!” she calls out. “Fancy a little treat?”
Aaron perks up immediately. “Always.”
She hands me an ice lolly-she knows it’s my favourite- and gives Aaron chocolate, no questions asked.
“On the house,” she says, winking. “You both look like you need it.”
I force a smile, it barely reaches my eyes, even though I’m grateful. We sit at the table by the window. The light outside is soft, filtering in through the glass.
Aaron slides over the bar of chocolate. I look up at him, narrowing my eyes. When I don’t make a move to take it, he puts it in my school bag instead.
“Cora’s doing good, by the way.”
I glance at him. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. That mall trip helped. She hugged me yesterday.”
My brows rise. “Really?”
“I know,” he says, laughing a little. “Said she loved me. Then we went out for food with my dad after.”
“She loves you. Always has.”
“It’s just… I didn’t realise how far gone things were. With her. With Dad. I thought I’d failed her, like…” He trails off, not finishing his sentence.
I reach out, brushing my fingers over his. “You didn’t fail anyone.”
Aaron glances at my ice lolly, watching as I bite the edge. “You always eat it like that?”
I blink at him. “Like what?”
“Like you’re scared it’s gonna fight back,” he chuckles, lips tilting up.
I huff. “It’s called savouring.”
He leans back, arms crossed like he’s some kind of expert. “Nah, it’s called nibbling like a squirrel. You’re proper weird, you know that?”
I roll my eyes. “You don’t get to judge me because you’re jealous.”
“Jealous?”
“Yep.” I nod my head. “Jealous that you don’t have an ice lolly and chocolate.”
“That was an act of charity,” he says, deadpan. “Didn’t think I’d have to watch you butcher the poor lolly in return.”
“You’re just bitter.”
“Bitter?” he scoffs. “What happened to me being sweet?”
Oh, shit. He still remembers that? “Things change, Aaron.” I shrug my shoulders with a sigh.
“I’m sweet and you know it. Ask Ms. Gracie.”
“Ms. Gracie only likes you because you support the same footy team as her.” I raise a brow. “And you help her carry boxes like some gentleman.”
“I am a gentleman, Carmen.” He smirks. “Plus, she calls me handsome.”
“She calls everyone handsome.”
“Take that back.”
I smirk too and lean forward like I’m about to whisper a secret. “She called Mr. Dawson handsome last week.”
His lips part in shock. “Dawson? The geography teacher with the dodgy beard?”
“The very one.”
“No. No chance. He looks like he cuts his own hair with a spoon.”
I burst out laughing, the sound echoing lightly through the empty dining hall. Aaron grins, watching me, his chin propped on his hand now. He doesn’t say anything else. Just lets me laugh. Just lets me be.
And for a moment, the weight in my chest eases. Just a bit.
We sit there, sharing glances, sharing smiles, sharing something neither of us really knows how to name yet. And it’s nice. Simple. Quiet.
“Alright,” I say, finally standing. “Come on, I’ve got biology next, and I’m already behind.”
Aaron groans and drags himself up too. “I’ve got football. Pray for me.”
I eye his ankle. “You sure that’s smart?”
He shrugs. “Coach just makes me walk laps like an old man. It’s bloody embarrassing.”
“You are an old man.”
“Oi. You take that back.”
I grin as we walk out together, side by side, and I realise I feel much lighter. Somehow, Aaron O’Connor always knows how to make me feel better.
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