"when you go through
deep waters,
I will be with you."

Nora and I were having a sleepover again. Except this time, it was at my house.

“Dude, I can't,” Nora announced before rolling over on her air mattress, looking up at the ceiling. “I give up. I give up. I give up.”

I gave her an annoyed look. “It's been like half a minute, Nora.”

“How would you know?”

“I was counting.” I deadpanned. “If you don't complete this assignment, you're flunking Biology. You know that.”

Nora groaned out loud in a way Mum hated. “I can't do this!” I couldn’t really blame her, not when I just managed to finish the shit ton of homework we got today. “I can't do this. I don't know how you do it.”

“Look, no one's perfect at everything.” I tried to make her understand. “You just need the right willpower. And then you’ll make it through.” 

She gave me a pleading look.

“I'm not helping you.” I scrunched up my nose at her and rolled over on my own bed. “I just got finished with my own. I'm exhausted.” Fortunately, it wasn't a school night on top of everything else. I hated school nights (and school mornings) when I was still finding it so hard to have some proper sleep. How was I supposed to stay fresh when everything else was slowly shutting down inside me?

“What kind of friend are you even?”

“Moral support.” I gave out a small, tired laugh. “I'm here for moral support.”

“Screw you, dude.”

I probably would've helped her, unlike what I just said, but I really was exhausted. I had spent nearly the whole day after classes with Nora at the mall--all thanks to her. To me, it seemed like she was trying her hardest to keep me out of my room most of the time. I was somewhat glad about that. It hit me sometimes, how grateful I was to have her, despite our falling out. At least there was no guilt anymore, for pushing her away, for giving up the one friend who meant so much to me.

I wish I could tell that to her someday (without making it sound so corny and cheesy).

Nora was humming along to a song and busy scribbling on her notebook by the time I got up from my bed and into the bathroom to change into my pyjamas. It wasn’t that cold of a night, not when my room was all warm. And so it was a night for just some pyjama shorts and a t-shirt, I decided. 

When I got out, changed into my nightwear, Nora was on my bed and she had my phone in her hands.

I frowned. “What are you--”

“Oh, she's back,” Nora announced to someone on my phone and turned towards me, holding it up. “It’s Steph.”

Oh. I joined her on my bed. “Hey, Steph.”

“Lia, hey!” Steph’s voice came from my phone. She sounded happy. Which I guess was a good thing. Just because I couldn't be happy forever didn't mean I don't want my friends to be happy.

“I was just telling Nora about the new art I came across.” She started. “There's this old wall behind our campus and few of the art kids got the permission to paint this amazing graffiti on it. It’s so fun. You guys should join us!”

“Steph,” Nora frowned. “You know I can’t even draw a proper circle without a ruler.”

Steph laughed and I passed Nora a somewhat concerned look.

“Lia, what about you?” Steph asked.

“I don’t know,” I said. “Spray painting's not really my thing. I'll come and take a look, though.” Besides, the last time I painted was so long ago. I couldn’t even remember why I stopped doing it. Always pushing away the things I loved.

“Cool!” Steph exclaimed, bringing me out of my head. 

She continued talking about some other random stuff then. At one point, Tara joined on the phone call too and I figured they both were having a sleepover night too--at Steph’s. It didn’t bother me as much as it did before, the fact that Tara and Steph spent a lot of their time together. And I hated that it used to bother me in the first place. They both were obviously closer than I was to them. I didn’t have the right to feel jealous. Why was it that I always had to think in some messed up way? 

Not a nice person, a tiny voice spoke in my head, blurring off the other voices in my surroundings. I messed things up all the time. Perhaps that was why no one stayed. 

By the time Steph stopped talking, Nora was lying down on my bed, on her stomach, and I think she had dozed off.

“Hey, I almost forgot,” Steph added. “I visited the art studio this morning. Do you remember Andrea, Lia? The sweet lady with those beautiful paintings.”

“Yeah,” I murmured, fidgeting with a loose thread of my shorts, curling and uncurling it around my index finger. “I remember her.”

“She remembered us too,” Steph added with a laugh. “That woman is incredible, Lia. She even showed me most of her paintings in progress back in her small storeroom. It was so fucking cool. We should go there again sometime since Tara and Nora don't appreciate art like you and I do.”

I heard Tara letting out a sound of protest from Steph’s end and my laugh went muffled when a yawn escaped my lips.

“I appreciate art,” Nora mumbled into my pillow. I guess she wasn't asleep then. “I appreciate fine specimens of art. You know, like that guy in my Philosophy class--”

Tara’s gagging sound from Steph’s end cut her off, and Nora merely rolled her eyes before pressing her face into my pillow again.

“Anyways,” Steph interrupted, giggling a little. “There was this boy who asked me about you.”

“Me?” Tara and Nora both spoke up simultaneously. I would have tried to laugh again if I hadn’t been so shit tired at that moment.

“No. God, not every guy’s into you two.” I could almost imagine Steph rolling her eyes. I contemplated if I should switch the call to a video one. “I was talking to you, Lia. He was asking about you.”

I stilled in response, staring my phone down. Could it have been Noah?

Tara whistled. “Damn, Lia. You're hooking up with someone behind our backs?”

Nora turned onto her back just to pass me an accusing look. “Why didn't you tell me?”

“What are you talking about?” I frowned at her, before looking back at the screen. “Who was it, Steph?”

Steph was silent for a few seconds, thinking. Then she spoke up, “Well, I didn't ask for a name.”

“Goddammit, Steph!” That was Tara. “You see a hot dude and you don't ask his name?”

“How can you be so sure that he was hot? You weren't even there.” Steph, I suppose, was rolling her eyes again.

“If he was asking about Lia, which you just said that he was, then he must be hot.” I was a little stunned at how expectant she sounded. “Lia’s got a hot type. At least I hope so.”

“TarTar, that's disgusting,” Nora commented, using my stupid nickname for Tara. “Can you think about anything else other than getting into some hot guy’s pants?”

Steph snickered, or maybe that was Tara (how would I know?). I scrunched up my nose at Nora’s words.

“He was hot, actually,” Steph added in quickly. “And oh fuck, he had one of those hot European accents. If you were there Tara, you might've started drooling.”

The smile fell from my lips. I didn't realise that I had actually zoned out until Nora nudged me with her foot, her brows slightly furrowed at me.

“Lia, you listening?” Steph asked on the other end.

“Y-Yeah. Yeah.” My voice came out shaky as I pulled up my knees to my chest. Nora raised a brow at me. “What...what did he look like?”

Steph hummed in thought. 

“Oh well, I'm not Tara so I didn't stare that much. But like I said, the accent was pretty obvious. He also seemed a little worried when he asked me about you. Don't know why, though.” Steph said. I could hear my heart thudding inside my chest. It was so loud, I’m pretty sure Nora could’ve heard it too. “He was tall. Over six feet probably. And I think his eyes were blue. Or maybe they were grey, I don’t know.”

“Damn.” I heard Tara whistling again. “I would totally fuck him.”

I grimaced at that. Nora saw me and frowned. 

“You’re saying he was asking about Lia. From you.” Nora spoke up this time. She even took the phone from my hands and I realised why pretty quickly. My hands were shaking a little. “And he was there at that studio you went to?”

“Yup,” Steph said.

“What was he doing there?” Nora asked. God, I think I was going to throw up. 

“What do you mean?” Steph sounded clueless. “How would I know?”

“No, but like--wait.” Nora trailed off and I saw her walking towards my wall mirror, plucking out one of my polaroids from the string lights. Then she came back to my bed. “Steph, switch the call to video.”

“Why?”

“Just do it.” Nora sounded impatient, and I tried inching backwards, away from her. I felt scared. Why did I feel scared?

When Steph’s face came on my screen, I saw that she looked just as confused as she had sounded. Even Tara looked curious at the sudden change in Nora's tone.

“So about him,” Nora looked into my phone at Steph. Steph nodded. “Was this the guy you saw?” She asked. And it was too late, I realised, as Nora shoved the polaroid in Steph’s view.

Too late. Too late for what? What was happening?

“Oh, yeah.” Steph was nodding and squinting at the screen. “That's the guy. Wait, why the hell do you have his picture? Am I missing something here?”

Nora’s gaze found mine and I think her eyes were as wide as mine. “Lia--”

I didn't get to hear her finish that sentence, not when I stood up abruptly and rushed inside my bathroom. And then I was heaving into the toilet, throwing up everything I had eaten for dinner.

Sick dread, that’s all I felt at that moment.

******

I didn't sleep that night.

Nora did, though. Although I'm pretty sure she stayed awake long enough, trying to get me to talk to her, she still fell asleep anyway.

I couldn't, on the other hand.

There was just too much going on in my head. Too many questions. Too many thoughts. Too many accusations. Too many blames. It felt like if I didn't get out of my room, I would suffocate myself to death. There was still something heavy in my stomach, something gripping my chest from the inside, and it felt so hard to breathe.

So I thought about going up to the roof, the slanted one right beside my room. I would've gone there too, but the hardly-silent voices coming from downstairs stopped me. They started at around midnight most of the nights, just like now, right when Nora gave into her sleep. I could hear the anger in them, even if I couldn't really make out the words.

I remembered going up to the door some days, leaning my forehead against it and trying to figure out why they were arguing like this. My parents. I did that a lot when they first started. But then gradually, as it became a constant thing, I figured that there was no point in finding out why. They argued, they fought, because they didn't love each other anymore.

Tonight though, it just felt a little hard not to let it get to me. I couldn't find it in me to shut it all out. And so I was aware of the slow, painful tears that fell down my cheeks, leaving a cold trail behind. I hated it. 

When it became too much, and I got afraid that I'd somehow wake Nora up, I stepped out of my room as quietly as I could've and made my way down the hallway. Towards Mason’s bedroom. 

It was so dark. And I could still hear Mum and Dad fighting. I scrunched up my forehead, trying to blink back the tears. I was trying to hold it in, I realised. I was really trying. And it really hurt. 

By the time I somehow crawled onto the free space on my little brother's bed, I was nearly trembling. God, it was awful. To keep everything inside you for so long.

I pressed my hands to my face, dragging them through my hair, just wanting them to stop shaking. I momentarily froze when Mason stirred a little beside me, probably sensing my muffled sobs. 

“Lia,” Mason spoke up, squinting at me through the darkness in his room, his voice heavy with sleep. “What’s wrong?”

He turned on his side, facing me, his big brown eyes trying to blink back the sleep. I sniffled and shook my head, even when he probably couldn't have seen me, and pulled up his duvet over the both of us.

“I just couldn't sleep in my room,” I whispered, hoping to dear God that he couldn't see my tears in the dark of his room. He could probably hear it, I thought, the quiver in my voice.

“Okay.” He mumbled and curled up against me, falling back to sleep just as quickly.

I inhaled a small breath, sniffling again.

Perhaps Mason and I would be the only ones who'd ever be there for each other when those arguments happened downstairs. 

I closed my eyes shut too, pulling the duvet all over my face as I tried crying myself to sleep. But it felt so difficult to just do that. To calm myself down. To stop thinking for once. To feel anywhere near happy. I was so so sad. 

An hour or two passed by like that. My parent's voices faded away and I guess that they must’ve retreated to their bedroom, their backs to each other, the hatred still in their hearts, too tired to fight anymore. That was worse in a way. Now, everything was silent. All I could hear was my heartbeat and the overwhelming thoughts in my head.

Alastair, I thought. 

How could he be alive?