LUCAS

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO - "PETUNIAS"

SEPTEMBER 17TH, MONDAY

"THIRTEEN DAYS."

"Why does Maths even exist?" He asked, his slender fingers burrowed into his brown locks in frustration and annoyance. My eyes darted down towards the piece of paper on the table, pinned to the table by one of his fumbling hands.

One of the questions had been repetitively circled with the black ink of the pen in his hand, with messily crossed out working outs next to it.

Nathan's brows were furrowed together with confusion, his gaze never leaving the sheet of paper in front of him as he placed the pen behind his ear. Letting out a groan of irritation, his green eyes darted towards me.

Sat on the bed, I watched as he tilted his head to the side and gave me his best puppy dog eyes.

I blinked, failing to control the wave of adoration directed towards the brunette that gradually crept into my mind and flushed my mind blank, regaining my temperament only when words began to slip out from between his lips.

"Please?" I shook my head.

"Lucas, please?" I shook my head again.

"But you used to help me with homework all the time," He huffed under his breath, his lips in a slight pout that was reminiscent of a young child being refused sweets. The expression was something that, if I could've, watched and adored for every second until the day I pass.

Especially with the dampened hair.

Good god, the wet hair.

It had been a complete miracle that I had managed restrained myself from immediately melting into a puddle of feelings the first time I set gaze on it - A careless smile on his lips, his shirt slightly moistened in different spots and stuck dangerously close to the skin underneath, and his curls dampened with water.

His beauty was certainly godlike, it was unmistakenly breathtaking, but with the accompaniment of the brown curls that stuck to the side of his forehead. My god.

It was absolutely intoxicating.

Perhaps, that was the reason why I kept telling him to dry his hair. So that one day, I wouldn't lose the self-control that I had been gathering feverishly over the years and pounce on him like a ravenous animal.

"Stop," I told him, to which he pursed his lips together and stared at me in confusion. "The puppy dog eyes."

I sighed as he continued to tilt his head and look at me with the most innocent glimmer in his eyes. The combination was a lethal dose, a mere glance at the brown locks made my heart sing a joyous, but also utterly foolish melody in its wake.

At that moment, I wanted to do nothing more but to lean in, to plant my mouth against his and relish in the taste of his lips, to entangle my fingers in the damp hair that I had craved after for so long, to feel and welcome the warmth of his toned figure against mine.

To kiss that freckle at the corner of his lips with a touch as soft as a feather's, to intertwine my fingers with his and watch the beautiful smile on his features, to run my thumb against his softly bitten lip and kiss him again, and again, and again.

To treasure him, to admire him, to hold him.

To embrace him, to adore him, to love him.

To have him, was possibly all I've ever wanted.

And although it pained me more than anything else on the planet, to know that he would probably never return the pitiful feelings, my heart had beaten me down enough to convince me to do it all over again, just for him.

And, perhaps, no one else.

I reached my hand forward and slipped the pen out from behind his ear, my fingertips settling on somewhat lingering at whatever little skin that I made contact with.

I grasped the paper, burying my head down and drowning out the stupid, accelerating beat of my heart that was in my ears. I pulled over the tray table that he had been working on and began to solve the problems on the piece of paper.

"It works." Nathan smiled, worsening the infestation of butterflies that had long nested themselves in my stomach. He watched me as I quickly answered questions after questions. "Why would I stop when it works?"

I handed the piece of paper back to him, tapping his forehead with the end of the pen. "Exactly the reason why you should stop doing it."

He grinned, seemingly unbothered by my words as he reclaimed the ballpoint pen and the sheet of paper. Carelessly with a lift and a flick of his wrist, he slicked his hair back with whatever moisture that had remained.

"Did I leave a hoodie or a jacket, or something like that here?" He tugged at his shirt, the colour now darkened in spots that had failed to dry completely. "Kinda cold."

"Exactly why I tell you to dry your hair."

He huffed, "I forgot to bring a towel today! Plus, it's not all because of my hair."

I flicked a strand of wet hair from his forehead, raising one of my brows as he shrugged sheepishly.

"You're an idiot," I murmured. He pouted playfully but the smile quickly resumed its place on his lips.

Leaning back into the soft surface of the pale pillows, I gestured him towards the stack of clothes that were neatly folded and placed on one of the armchairs.

Nathan dug through the stack, his movements were careful as to not disarrange the folded laundry.

He slipped off his wet shirt, pulling it over his head and facing away from me. My gaze, much to my distaste, but to my heart's content, was plastered onto the lean figure, and ripping it away or turning in another direction was a seemingly impossible task.

His hands grasped at the blue hoodie by the stack of clothes, his slender fingers against the blue fabric. For a moment, I imagined the being on me, his olive skin against mine and leaving a fiery, heavenly trail.

My eyes darted between his figure and the slender, boney shafts that were my arms, one drastically different from the other. I glanced at Nathan, and then hastily shovelled my arms back under the blanket.

I thought it surely had to be impossible, but they, I, had somehow gotten thinner, and looked so frail, that it seemed as if they could've been snapped in mere seconds.

The unnerving unease and absence of confidence formed in my chest much, much quicker than I would've liked.

I buried myself deeper into the comforting white blanket, hiding the thin frame underneath the ocean of white, and completely pulling the blanket over my head as he turned around, the blue hoodie already on, just mere seconds before he would've met my abashed gaze.

Heart attacks were only a matter of time.

Then, I felt a tug on the whiteness above me, but lacking enough strength to pull the blanket completely off.

"What are you doing?" Nathan questioned, clearly amused and thoroughly entertained by the situation at hand, with only a slight hint of curiosity in his voice. My cheeks burned and flamed with a shameful scarlet.

"Nothing."

"But you have a blanket over your head?" I could practically hear the smile, and although I longed to view it with my own two eyes, I resisted.

"Sure do."

He stayed quiet momentarily, and I exhaled deeply in relief. The sense of relief quickly wore off as I heard the bed creak and groan, and felt the softness of the mattress shift underneath a newfound weight.

Then, his arms were wrapped around me.

His arms were wrapped around my waist through the blanket, pulling my back flush with his chest on the bed that unquestionably was too small for the both of us, only divided by a piece of fabric.

Oh, how I wished the darned butterflies in my stomach would just disappear, preferably forever.

My arms were bounded to my sides as I shuffled underneath the blanket, struggling to decipher anything from the loud pounding that was my heartbeat. I cursed his lack of acknowledgement of the words, "Personal space" ever since we were toddlers, but also covertly wished for him to forever glaze over the definition of the two words.

Nothing else mattered except for his arms around my figure, and it shattered everything that I had been feeling.

"You're softer now," He murmured. "You're usually just skin and bones, and it's hard to cuddle you."

I stopped.

So he did realise.

Sensing that my frantic fidgeting and shuffling had stopped, Nathan tugged on the edge of the blanket, lowering it just enough so that the back of my neck was exposed.

His fingers pressed by the skin, and I flinched from the sudden warmth applied, but made no sudden moves to stop him.

He slipped more and more of the blanket out from between us, pushing portions of it aside so his fingertips would be allowed to roam freely down my spine, separated only by the material of my clothing.

His touch set my cold skin on fire - blazing, flaring, burning fire.

"I can see your spine," Nathan stated, his voice layered heavily with concern and worry, but his skin never left mine. "I, uh, don't think that's normal?"

I didn't reply, I couldn't. My voice had long adhered at the back of my throat, declining to function without trembling or shaking until it was nothing but a jumbled mess, my brain was utterly mush and only echoed his name, and my heart refused to beat for anyone other than him.

My mind was fuzzy, smothered and dangerously mesmerised with a gloss of pure affection towards the figure behind me.

The warmth in my stomach only slightly subsided when he removed his fingers from my back, sighing loudly. I felt the mattress shift as his weight was lifted from it, and I finally released the breath that I was holding.

I didn't dare to turn back onto my back, deathly afraid that my cheeks were flushed with crimson, and even more afraid at his would-be reaction to the aforementioned shade of crimson.

It wasn't until he called out my name that I shifted, sitting up against the headboard and turning my head to face in his general direction, although my eyes still dare not to meet his.

"Have you been eating, like, at all?"

"Yes," I lied. "Just, not a lot."

Nathan stared at me for a moment, squinting his vibrant green eyes in doubt before nodding slowly, still not convinced of my words. I didn't blame him, for I don't remember when was the last time I had a proper meal myself.

"Do you want some apple bunnies?" I opened my mouth to reject the offer, but he interrupted, "If you say no, I'm still going to make some."

I blinked and sighed.

"Right, okay."

"Can Myles come over this Friday?" Nathan asked, making small incisions into the slices of apples, repeating the actions before moving onto the next slice.

"I don't mind," I replied.

He smiled softly at my response, glancing up at me momentarily and meeting my eyes with his before going back to slicing the fruit. The room had been quiet, filled with nothing but the sounds of the edge of the knife, scraping and cutting into the flesh of the apple slices.

My mind was still laced with unease, but I pushed the thoughts back.

Instead, I settled on Nathan.

I watched the way his hands travelled, how his slender fingers moved against the blade of the knife, and how his fingertips were lightly coated with a thin shimmer of the sweetness.

He moved with more grace than any sixteen-year-old boy should be even capable of, and I was certainly, certainly not okay with it.

"Are the others not coming?" I asked, hoping to distract myself.

He shook his head, laying down one of the finished slices and moving on to the last of the slices. My gaze lingered at his tongue, peeking out from between his lips, the dread in my stomach overcame by the swirl of newly found emotions.

"Ro's got orchestra rehearsal for like, three hours, Alex's babysitting his sister right after baseball, and Spencer's doing something for his scholarship." Nathan furrowed his brows, attempting to recall a piece of memory. "An interview, I think?"

I nodded slowly with understanding, reminded of the different schedules that my friends had been participating in, schedules that I had long forgotten of, washed over by the seemingly endless amount of time that the pure, white ceiling stared back at me.

I felt his gaze on me, burning into the side of my features. His lips had been parted, but he closed them without forming a word. Then, he frowned, taking his softly bitten bottom lip between his teeth before asking, "Are you upset?"

I blinked, confused at his sudden question. There had been a slight ting of disappointment, battering at my chest, but the major sense of relief from hearing the words coming from between his lips overrode the trivial sharpness.

"No, they've got their own things to manage," I reassured, Nathan's concerned, stressed expression immediately shifted to a relieved one as he smiled. I smiled back. "I appreciate you going around and asking them, though."

His cheeks were sprinkled with faint pink, scratching the back of his neck flusteredly as he said, "Eh, I just, you know, asked them during lunch." He continued scratching the back of his neck. "Didn't really do much, to be honest."

I chuckled, watching as he shifted around, embarrassed and unwillingly flattered.

Then, the adorable flush of his cheeks faded as his head snapped up suddenly, most likely remembering something that someone had said. "Oh! Wait, hold on."

Nathan wiped his fingers hastily with a piece of tissue paper, before taking his phone out from between his fingers.

He looked down at his phone, holding the large, glowing screen, covered by a red phone case in his hand, reading out, "Ro wants you to know that she's really sorry, and that if the conductor doesn't skin her alive, she'll try to see you on Friday."

He continued, "Alex says that he would definitely prefer coming to visit you than babysitting his demon spawns of sisters, but his mom is scary, and Spencer says he'll try to bring some novels over the next time he comes to visit you as an apology."

I chuckled lightly at the words, the warmth surged through my chest as the voices of the respective people rang through my head.

Such kind, gifted, and absolutely wonderful people.

From the vice-president of the student council that was the definition of rationality and reliability, to the violinist that performed with grace.

From the baseball player that was the main source of impossibly constant encouragement and optimism for the team, to the seemingly harsh and cold, but filled with warmth on the inside, and succeeded at subjects with an effortlessly simple manner.

And to him, the boy that was sitting next to my hospital bed, with so, so many extraordinary things that I can't even begin to describe into words.

They were all astonishingly skilled at a variety of different things, all utterly phenomenal at their respective roles.

Incredibly talented pupils, all in a single friend group, always sitting at the same lunch table. They all stood out from and above the rest, always shimmering and shining like rare, precious diamonds.

The popular ones, as they said.

And I wondered if I would ever catch up.

My eyes were drawn towards the phone in his hand, both questioning why he had been holding the device in his palm, and to admire and stare at the new model.

"Oh, this is all in the group chat," He explained, acknowledging the fact that I had been blatantly staring at the phone in his hand. "They told me to tell you in person, just in case you don't see it since, you know, you never use your phone."

He slid the device back into his pocket. I glanced towards the device on the nightstand. The small, outdated mobile that had once belonged to my father, and presented as my present on my fourteenth birthday.

I wonder why.

"Probably a good idea though, recently it's been filled with nothing but Alex talking about dinosaurs shaped chicken nuggets at three in the morning," Nathan hummed, and I chuckled softly at the words that he had said.

"Didn't expect anything less from him." I smiled.

He placed the plate of adorably sliced apple bunnies onto the tray table, watching and urging for me to take one as he beamed at me, tilting his head to the side expectantly as he waited for my hands to move.

I took a bite, followed by the first out of the sugary flesh, the taste of the fruit coating and lingering on my tongue, staining it sickeningly sweet. My legs dangled off the edge of the bed, and I swayed them back and forth in apathy.

Finishing the slice of apple, I looked at Nathan, who had been staring at me for the entirety of the time I had the fruit in my hand.

I wondered if I had shown my distaste with my expressions unconsciously, as his brows were furrowed together in concern, and distress was clearly displayed onto his usually carefree, charming features. The smile that he had on moments ago was completely gone.

He placed his wrist next to mine, his fingers firmly wrapped around mine. I flinched. He couldn't see the skin beneath under the layer of clothing, but he felt it.

Nothing but skin and bones.

We both stayed in complete silence, and he was staring at me with such intensity that it made me shiver under his gaze.

I looked away, at anything that could've distracted me from the burn of his skin on mine, and from the horribly captivating stare of his eyes.

Suddenly, fear and anxiety struck through me.

Perhaps, it was the hatred that ran through my body only moments ago, still fresh and raw, but the feeling of dread ran cold in my veins, crashing into me repetitively in intense waves that I had never experienced before.

Everything was amplified, even if I didn't want them to be.

I felt as if my heart was going to leap out of my chest, my mind was desperately scrambling for a valid excuse to selfishly keep him by my side as the grip on my wrist tightened.

Maybe he finally realised.

My breath hitched, getting caught in my throat with a painfully sharp twist.

In the mids of my panic, I looked down at my own body. Sickly pale skin and nauseatingly thin limbs, all screaming with the lingering presence of death. Funnily enough, disgust was the first thing that came to mind.

I looked at him. His hair was now slightly more dried out, but the dampness still remained, and his complexion was still as charming as ever, like the never-fading or flickering flame of a wax candle.

Then, I look back at myself.

Scrawny, sickly thin, and possibly better off dead.

And suddenly, keeping him by my side wasn't such a good idea to me anymore.

And, I think to myself, maybe it was about time that he realised.

The fact that I don't deserve him, as a friend or anything more.

I bring myself to look into his eyes, preparing myself for the eventual cold glare of revulsion that he'd give me, and for him to just step out of the room, only to never return.

And when he would finally leave, rid himself of this terrible liability that he had been generously putting up with for the past eleven years. It would be a good thing, for him to finally separate his relations with me before he cried over someone that didn't deserve his tears.

The silver would finally shine, the crimson would finally spill, and the hindrance would finally leave.

I looked up, as prepared as I could be.

I froze.

His eyes were still clouded with concern, but they also glimmered with a tender caringness, with a gaze so soft, that anyone would mistake him like he was staring at a cherished lover, instead of a miserable boy lying on his death bed.

In his eyes, there was everything but disgust, and I couldn't tell if I was irritated, relieved, or utterly, hopelessly enamoured.

One part of me just wanted him to leave, to just get it over with by him stepping out of the room and never coming back, leaving me and everything else that I related to behind, but another part wanted to hold him, to have him under my fingertips, and to clutch and grab at him, and beg him with a desperate voice to not leave me.

And the last part just wanted to kiss him, but I guess that's just how it's always been.

Nathan abruptly groaned loudly, causing me to flinch back in alarm as he set both his hands on either side of my shoulders. He lightly shook me back and forth, and my confused expression remained for the entirety of the time that he did.

He let out another frustrated groan, and then he wrapped his arms around my waist once more. He buried his face into the crook of my neck, which I knew could not have been comfortable for him.

It was gentle, broken, and filled with so much care that I had almost collapsed under the sheer emotion. The foolish melody echoed once more from my heart, gushing out uncontrollably like a never-ending geyser, pushing out harmony after harmony, song after song.

"Can you just, please take care of yourself?" He asked, in the softest and most gentle tone I have ever heard being muttered from between someone's parted lips. "I don't want... I don't-" He sighed.

I don't want to see you dead.

"Just take care of yourself better." Nathan wrapped his arms around my slim waist tighter, his warmth spreading through my torso and lighting me aflame from the inside out.

Oh, Nathan.

His fingers were trembling, I could feel them shake against my skin.

Are you scared?

He nestled his cheek into the blade of my shoulder, his breathing steady against the skin of my neck. Despite the warning signs flashing before my eyes, I ran my fingers through his brown curls.

I pulled my hand away, almost immediately.

I'm not worth your tears.

"Okay?" He asked, leaning away and staring into my eyes.

Sorry.

"Okay," I lied.

I stared down at the bouquet of orange gerberas that Nathan held in his hands, a bright grin on his face as he pushed the flowers towards me, gesturing for me to take the bright bouquet.

"Nate- Wha- Huh?" I questioned, stumbling over my words. I found myself unable to rip my gaze away from the brilliant orange petals that matched his golden smile, warm and lovely all in one.

I didn't dare to reach out and grasp the flowers since I was ready for him to come clean and reveal to me that he had actually gotten them for someone else that wasn't me, or had only decided to gift them to me out of pity.

I waited for his words, not wanting to stain the flowers with my touch.

"Do you not like them?" Nathan asked suddenly, his voice barely over a whisper as his green eyes scanned my features for any sign of displease. They focused and drifted on anything but me in an embarrassed, uneasy manner. "I- I just thought you liked them. Orange gerberas."

I blinked, finally understanding the situation.

"You-" I hesitated, my eyes darting from the flowers to Nathan's embarrassed and low gaze. His cheeks began to flush, raising up his left hand to scratch the back of his neck. "-You got them for me?"

He nodded.

"Why?" I asked, not trusting my voice to manage more than one word at a time without trembling.

"It's valentines day." Nathan smiled as if the words answered all the secrets in the universe. His voice was more carefree and relieved as I took the flowers into my hand, barely being able to wrap my fingers around the bouquet. "

"I mean, love can be platonic, right? Aren't platonic soulmates a thing?" He tilted his head, thinking about his own question. "Ah, whatever."

"The point is, I think you're awesome, and I think you deserve something for valentine's day." I swallowed, desperately hushing my heart from fluttering at his words. "So, I got you flowers since you really like them for some reason."

"I think you deserve a lot more than just this, but it was the best thing I could manage." He smiled sheepishly, watching as I stared into the flowers with bewilderment, amaze and disbelief. "So, yeah, there you have it."

They were for me.

He got them for me.

And even with my boney arms and boring eyes, he still thought that I deserved more.

I took one of the petals between my trembling fingers, finally managing to convince myself that this was indeed real, and not just one of the many daydreams that I was having about him.

My throat was unbearably parched, and my mouth filled like it had been filled to the brim with cotton, unable to produce any sound that didn't resemble the noise of a cat going into labour.

So, instead, I gently placed the bouquet onto the ground and wrapped my arms around Nathan, hoping to bury the grateful tears away from his sight.

He smelled like sweet vanilla, cookies fresh out the oven, and a soft scent of warm cinnamon. There were hints of his orange body wash alongside traces of burnt ash wood and apple, and I unconsciously drew myself closer to him as I cried.

He ran a soothing hand across my shoulder as my thin frame shook with each sob I released, setting my skin aflame.

I let out another sob, and he simply hugged me tighter.

I had never loved him more.