“I know you...
you're in my stars.”

"What do you mean?"

"I don't...I don't remember seeing any colors." His voice held that dread in it. "It's just black and white."

Now that was just fucking creepy.

"And he looks like you?" I asked.

"Yes."

I tried making sense of it, I really did, but nothing about this seemed to go along.

"Do they come in like, dreams?" I asked him. I remembered having that creepy, so out-of-color dream. That still didn't mean he'd be having the same dreams. That wouldn't make sense.

"No. They're...they're more real. I think I zone out for a bit." He sounded unsure as if he himself did not know what he was saying. I hadn't exactly known how tense he really was about this, not until now. Did Luce know about this?

"Have you told anyone else about this?" I asked him quietly.

Alastair tensed up even further, but didn't really reply. I took that as my cue to change the question. 

"So you see someone who looks just like you." I repeated. He just glanced up at me, waiting. "What really happens in those visions?"

"I forget about it after a few hours," he said. I couldn't really blame him, not when I didn't remember my own dreams either when I woke up.

His eyes, I realized, were somehow searching my own, hoping that I had an answer to all this. I didn't. 

"When was the first time you had one?" I couldn't help but feel the curious edge slowly growing inside me. This all was creepy, yes, but a little fascinating too.

He seemed uncomfortable at that question. I was about to take it back but he beat me to it. 

"Months ago." He murmured. "The first one wasn't bad. It...didn't even freak me out that much. But they got worse after that."

I stared at him. Did these visions by any chance forced him to take his own life?

I hummed in response and looked down at my lap, frowning. If they were just the side effects of his medication, they shouldn't have started months ago. Unless he had been taking pills for a long time, which I didn't think was the case. Perhaps it was the alcohol. Luce did mention something about his drinking habits.

"Did you...did it happen recently?"

His gaze darted towards anything but me. "Yeah. Last night." 

I waited for a few seconds, hoping he'd tell me more. But he didn't. Perhaps he didn't want to.

"You need to tell me if you see one again," I told him softly.

He merely nodded. I stared at him and finally figured out why he looked so exhausted. He hadn't been having any sleep.

"How are things going with, you know, everything else?" I asked him, leaning sideways against the shelf. 

It had already gone dark outside. I hadn't yet checked my phone but I was pretty sure Luce had texted me more than once by now. My phone had vibrated approximately thrice against my butt.

"Like they were before," he murmured lowly.

"How were they before?" I raised my brows. He just shrugged in response. "What about college? Going back at it?"

He glanced up at me. "Yeah."

"Does it feel nice?" I asked him with a small smile. College was anything but nice for me, but maybe it was different for him.

"No."

"Oh. Why?" I questioned. "I thought this semester was supposed to be exciting." I remembered Maria saying something along the lines of that. Didn't know why, though.

"It has been anything but exciting." He stared at me for a little bit longer than necessary. "It's not exciting when people treat you differently. I don't even think I know how to cope up with changes."

"Different's nice." I smiled at him. Sometimes, I wanted to add. And sometimes it was scary.

"It's not so nice when people whisper behind your back." He said. "Making up their own theories on why I tried to kill myself."

I grimaced at that. "Well, yeah, that does sound bad."

He smiled, and even though it was only out of exhaustion, it still made my heart flip an unnatural amount of beats. How odd.

Suddenly, my phone started ringing, filling in the silence.

"Hey." I answered in a hushed voice. Alastair staring at me all the while didn't help in the slightest.

"Lia, do you understand the meaning of what the fuck?" It was Luce, sounding obviously frustrated. That was probably because I hadn't answered any of her texts.

"I think so, yeah."

"Well then, what is going on?" She asked me. I could almost imagine her rolling her eyes. "What was so important that you had to miss dinner?"

"I'm not missing dinner." I frowned. "Just because I didn't reply back doesn't mean I'm missing dinner."

"Lord help me if I thought otherwise, Lia." She replied exasperatedly. "Come back quick or I swear to God--"

"I am! I will. Geez." I rushed out before hanging up on her. Then I glanced up at Alastair and he was still staring at me with that ghostly touch of a smile on his lips. "I think I should head back."

He waited for a few seconds before nodding and getting up. I was about to stand up too when he offered me his hand. I didn't hesitate to take it, because that would have made me seem like I was still holding onto that little kiss (which I was), and let him pull me up.

Once we were outside the library, I pulled my sleeves over my fists and looked around the almost empty street. It was nighttime by now. I hoped I made it in time before Luce decided to kill me for good.

"I'll drop you back to your house." I heard Alastair saying before he started walking away towards the parking lot. He didn't really give me a chance to reply. Also, a ride back home sounded good right now, so I followed him.

I should've been surprised when we stopped in front of a sleek black car in the parking lot--probably the most expensive car throughout the entire lot. But I wasn't. I would have been surprised though if it had been the opposite. He was a Hawthorne, and according to whatever that I had heard about them, they were supposed to be rich.

When I was seated inside, I couldn't help but inhale the minty smell. I almost slumped back against the seat and closed my eyes out of total bliss. Mint and I had a really long history. Long things short, I loved it. And this car smelled like mint.

"Where do you live?" Alastair's voice broke me out of my happy trance and I perked up, realising that he had already pulled out of the parking lot and I hadn't even noticed.

"Um," I glanced outside the window, taking my time to ponder over that question. "I'm not so good with that question." Which was true. I sucked at giving directions. 

Even back at home, I used to suck at it. Mum usually got pissed at me whenever I failed to give proper directions to cab drivers.

Alastair passed me an amused glance. "You don't know where you live?"

"I do." I said, recognising the familiar street. "I just don't know the names of the streets here."

He hummed softly and swerved the car into some random street. "Tell me which way to turn then."

I nodded. The next few minutes went by with me giving directions to him. Since I was a little anxious, I accidentally gave two wrong directions before we finally made it in front of the familiar apartment.

"Thank God."

"Do you live with your sister?" He asked before stopping the car.

"Yeah." I smiled. "That's her apartment there."

That was one reason why Mum and Dad had let me travel overseas all alone. They knew I'd be staying at Luce's. Luce was an adult, she'd take care of me. Now that I thought about it, Mum hadn't even thrown a tantrum this time when I told her that I wanted to visit Luce. 

Maybe they all needed some time away from me. Or maybe I did.

"Does it always take you so long to reach back here?" He was studying me with that curious gaze of his.

"No."

"Well--"

"I was just a little anxious." I interrupted with a sheepish smile. "I mess things up when I'm a little too worked up."

He raised his brows. And then his eyes flickered behind me, at the window. "Your sister looks angry."

I followed his gaze and turned my head around, noticing Luce pacing across the reception area. She looked crossed, all right. At least she hadn't seen me yet.

"Fuck." I muttered under my breath, then looked back at him. "Gotta go. I'll see you later, yeah?"

He hummed in response and I got out just as quickly, almost about to close the door behind me. I stopped, however, before leaning down and fixing him with a stare.

"If something happens, you'll call me, right?"

He blinked in surprise. "Should I?"

I could only roll my eyes at that. "I don't want you to wait for weeks before contacting me again, Alastair." I told him. It felt good saying the truth out loud, once in a while. "If anything happens, if you see...those flashes, please do tell me."

I saw him narrowing his eyes ever so slightly, but he didn't really say anything.

"You don't have to, if you don't want to, obviously." I added in a rush before straightening up and looking over the hood of the car, exhaling heavily. Here I thought speaking out the truth felt good. It was freaking embarrassing.

"Lia." Alastair called out and I leaned down once again, raising my brows at him. "I will." He said, and then I noticed the way he was trying to hold back a smile. Tired, but still beautiful. "If something happens, I'll tell you."

I tried ignoring the warm, overwhelming feeling in my chest. 

"Okay. that's...good." I gave him an unsure smile. "I should get going."

With one last wave at him, I rushed inside the apartment. And when Luce saw me approaching, she stopped pacing and frowned.

"I'm sorry." I rushed out. "I swear I didn't see the time flying by so fast."

She narrowed her eyes before they trailed behind me, towards the apartment doors.

"What?" I asked her.

"Where did you go off to?"

"The library. I had to see someone. And I would've come back early, but you know," I looked at her sheepishly. "I may or may not have forgotten my way back here."

She rolled her eyes but ended up blowing out a sigh. "I'm not surprised, Lia. Just try answering my texts and not leaving me in the dark. It is kind of worrying."

"I'm sorry." I repeated earnestly (or I hoped so) as I followed her inside the elevator. "I didn't mean to worry you."

"You never mean to." My sister was being hella sarcastic right now.

"Look, I already feel bad."

She furrowed her brows at me but I saw the way she was pursing her lips, trying to hide the smile. 

"You're not even trying to sound convincing, Lia." She shook her head. "Who did you have to see at the library anyway?"

"Maria." I lied, mentally cringing at how swiftly that came out of my mouth. It sometimes made me feel bad how easily I could come up with lies and go so well along with them.

"Right." I think I saw her rolling her eyes as we exited the elevator. "That sure as heck looked like Maria in the car."

I froze and stared at her back. 

"What are you even talking about?"

"What do you think I'm talking about?" She passed me a glance over her shoulder before opening her front door.

"I...uh..." I trailed off. Looks like my perfect lie went down the drain.

As I followed her inside, Luce passed me an almost knowing look. I opened my mouth to say something but she beat me to it, "It took me hours to perfect this so you better give me loads of compliments."

It took me a while to realize that she was talking about the food. In the kitchen.

"Oh. Okay." I murmured, a little stunned.

"Lia." She stretched out my name.

"What?"

"Are you just going to stand there?" She was laughing now. I frowned.

I took off my coat, still frowning, before closing the door behind me. "You can be such a dick sometimes, Luce."

As I neared the kitchen, she picked up the tray of cheese quesadillas and brought it out on the table. "What? You'd rather we talk about Alastair?"

Uh oh.

"So what if I was hanging out with him? That's not something you have to tease me with."

She passed me that all-knowing look all over again. I was starting to hate it. 

"I wasn't teasing you." She said.

I parted my lips in surprise.

"But now that you mention it." She waggled her brows in an almost suggestive manner. I scrunched up my nose at her. "Should I be teasing you?"

"Piss off." I shoved her away with a nonchalant laugh (or at least I hoped it sounded like that) before walking towards my room.

"I was just kidding," She said behind me.

"I know." I mumbled.

"Or not."

I could only groan in response.

******

Later that night, I found myself going through the old leather journal which was apparently given to Alastair. I was wrapped up in my duvet, propped up against my bedrest, and letting the moonlight shine over the old, brittle pages of the journal.

The first few pages made no sense to me. I flipped through them and my eyes raked over the words. Nothing really made sense at first, but then it slowly started to piece together.

Alastair's parents; Griffin Hawthorne and Imogen Hawthorne, were found murdered inside their own house, the Hawthorne mansion, exactly eight years ago.

Both of them, I thought, Alastair lost both of his parents. Yet he still never seemed fazed whenever I saw him talking about his parents. Maybe they weren't really close. Or maybe Alastair had just moved on.

I flipped through the pages and came across lines and lines of suspected evidence and how it came out to be wrong every single time. They didn't know who did it, yet they still concluded it as a murder. It was all over the city of Knightsridge (somewhere near the Northern Ireland), and everyone knew about it.

As I went through the pages, something struck out to me which left me stunned for a few seconds.

Everyone knew the Hawthornes were murdered. Yet most of them--except for the police--hadn't been told that they were found murdered in the mansion's swimming pool. They died out of drowning. They died in water.

I blinked and looked up from the journal, hearing my heart beat so loud in my ears.

Did Alastair know about this? Was this why...he tried taking his own life the same way?

But his parent's death was no suicide. It was a murder. Somebody did that to them.

Inhaling deeply, I skipped along a few more pages, looking through the confidential information. The real reason as to where they died was kept confidential. No one would ever know where they really died until someone got their hands on this journal.

Like me.

"That's fucked up." I concluded before closing the journal.

The Hawthornes had enemies, obviously they did, but why kill them like this? Why would someone even want them dead?

Still wondering about thousands of questions, I decided that this much would be enough for one night. I still had chills from reading the very graphic details found at the crime scene. Strangled marks, for instance. Alastair's mother had strangled marks around her neck, yet there were no records of any fingerprints.

I slid the journal under my pillow and laid down, staring up at the ceiling and pulling the duvet up til my chin.

Alastair sure had a sad life. Maybe that's why he hadn't known who to turn to when things started messing up with him. Maybe he just didn't know how to handle those...strange visions. This journal seemed to be with him for so long. He must've read it. Maybe that's why he--

My phone buzzed with a text and I picked it up from the nightstand. It was a text from Tara.

Tara: dude. how's life going?

Tara: anything interesting happened lately?

It warmed me a little that she was checking up on me. Tara wasn't one to check up on her friends, not until something went out of the blue.

Had something gone out of the blue?

I sighed and pondered over her question, not really sure what to say. I could've told her about loads of things that were bothering me at this moment, but we weren't really that close. 

And not just Tara and I, I wasn't that close with Steph either. We talked (a lot), but it was just that. I didn't know how to open up and I think they didn't care enough to see me do it either.

I was about to type in a random reply when another text notification popped up on my screen. This time, it was Alastair.

Alas: are you up?

Unlike my text conversation with Tara, I decided to reply much more quickly.

Me: yup.

And then I checked the time and realized it was way past midnight right now. He wasn't asleep.

Me: can't sleep either?

Alas: yeah.

It didn't strike me as odd. His sleeping schedule had been messed up back at the hospital too, much worse than my own. I wanted to ask him why he couldn't sleep, but his next text left me a little surprised.

Alas: can I call you?

I stared at the screen for a while. I wasn't really the type to have late night calls with friends. I hated phoning anyone actually. Texting was so much better and easier.

My reply, however, was the exact opposite, mainly because I was the one who told him to contact me if something happened.

Had something happened?

Me: sure.

And when his name started flashing on my screen, I panicked a little (naturally), but I answered it anyway. Better than letting myself panic even more.

"Hey," I answered and pulled the duvet over my face, letting my eyes adjust in the darkness.

"Hey." His voice sounded a little tired, maybe even a bit strained. Or maybe it was just my jumbled up thoughts. "Why haven't you slept yet?"

I was more than glad to go along with the conversation. 

"I don't usually sleep early," I told him in a hushed voice, knowing that my door was left open ajar. Luce sometimes passed by whenever she needed her 'late night snacks' and I didn't want her to hear me. "Also, I was...reading the journal you gave me."

There was a little shuffle at his end. "Was it that interesting?"

"Not really." I scrunched up my nose a little when I thought about it. "I suppose you haven't read it?"

"I haven't."

"Doesn't it make you curious?" I found myself asking. Was he, by any chance, lying to me? Or maybe his suicide attempt and his parents murder was just a mere coincidence.

"It doesn't."

I frowned. "How? This has been with you for so long and not once did you want to read it?"

He took his time to answer the question. 

This time when he spoke, his voice came out soft. "No. I don't think I ever felt the need to...find out more about them. I've always been closer to my aunt than my parents."

I hummed in response.

"You're surprised."

"I am." I found myself smiling. "I've got a question."

"That's why I called you." I wasn't really sure if he was being sarcastic or not. His voice was heavily coated with exhaustion. His words just came out plain.

I kept on smiling nonetheless. "How are you so good at figuring out people's emotions?"

"You could've asked something better."

I had to roll my eyes. "That doesn't really answer my question."

"How are you not good at that?" He asked, dodging the question quite swiftly.

"I don't know. People are tough to crack." I said. "And I think I sometimes fail to understand others."

He was silent for a while. "That's not true." His voice was quiet.

A beat if silence passed by. "Why can't you sleep?"

I heard another shuffling sound and was a little surprised to know that I didn't feel so tense anymore. It felt normal, like whenever we were face to face, and I found it comforting to be near his silent presence. It felt nice.

I heard him exhale heavily. 

"I don't really sleep so easily." He said.

"Why is that?"

"I don't know," he said in a tight voice. I waited and he ended up letting out another sigh. "I had this...really strong urge to drink."

I couldn't help but frown in worry. I didn't say anything, though. He probably didn't need me questioning about it right now.

"I'm not supposed to, but I still get those urges sometimes." His voice lowered to a strained one and I could have felt my stomach tightening a little. "And I...I probably would've let it get to me." 

It was strange how much I hated that sadness in his voice. It made me feel sad too, and I didn't like that feeling.

"I'm glad you didn't let it get to you," I whispered.

"I know." He sighed. "That's why I had to call you because...because everyone else is out to some party. And they wanted me to go with them, but I don't think..." He trailed off. It wouldn't have been wise.

"That's all right." I pressed the phone closer to my ear, closing my eyes. "I'm glad you called me though. It's...nice talking to someone once in a while."

It was nice, but strangely vulnerable too. Vulnerability wasn't nice, though. It made you cling onto things that would never last long.

Nothing ever lasted long enough for me.

I could hear him softly breathing at the other end. It was comforting. A small part of me didn't really like how I was so close to being used to him, but I pushed that thought away for the moment. I was going to be there when he needed me.

"It is." He whispered and then added in an almost exhausted voice, "Can you...can you continue talking? I, uh...I don't think I want to talk. I'll just listen." 

The strange vulnerability in his voice made my heart race even further. I had this strong urge to hug him, tell him that it'll be all right, but I pushed that unnecessary thought away too.

"Okay," I murmured. "I can talk about home."

I did talk about home then, about things that were too close to home. I told him about Mum's flower shop, which had always been a second home to me. I always spent a lot of my time there than in my own house, helping Mum with the customers. It felt nice talking about something so unimportant, even though it meant a lot to me.

I even talked about college, for the sake of the conversation. College was anything but nice. The only thing that mattered just even a little about college were my Psychology classes. They were something that kept me going on, I realized as I told Alastair about them.

It was little things like that that kept me afloat.

"Do you like it?" It was a quiet question, the only reply I got out of him throughout my whole rambling. He sounded strange. Almost as if in pain and trying to muffle it at the same time.

"It's literally the only subject I can tolerate," I told him, grimacing at the way how badly I wanted to ask him if he was all right.

He wasn't, I told myself, he wasn't all right.

"Why do you like it?"

I shrugged even though he couldn't see. "I don't know. It's just a nice course throughout."

There was silence at his end before he decided to speak up. "Really?"

And when I stopped to ponder over that question, I realized that I've never really thought too much before answering it. Maybe because whenever somebody asked me why I decided to choose Psychology in my A levels, they just asked it out of politeness. 

No one ever really showed interest as to what I really thought about it. Not even my mum. But I couldn't help and notice the way he asked me, as if he truly wanted to know.

Why would he, though?

"It's all about knowing people, you know," I murmured, staring into the dark distance. "And I think," I stopped, feeling my throat constricting a little. "I think I like the thought of helping people."

"Why?"

I blinked in surprise. That was legitimately the furthest anyone has ever asked me about my interests.

"Because everyone needs help?" I asked in a small, confused voice.

"How do you know that?"

I didn't. 

"I think everyone does, once in a while. People close off from their surroundings when they think they don't need help." The words almost felt a bit sour in my mouth. "And...it doesn't do you much good when you close yourself off. I think everyone needs someone. And I always want to be there when people need me."

He went silent again. I had this very small and horrifying thought that he fell asleep through it. And then another thought struck right after,

Why wouldn't he?

"I think you give too much of yourself to others," he said at last.

I felt my throat clench all of a sudden in a feeling that was all too familiar.

"It's not worth it," he added in a whisper. "Caring about others too much isn't worth it."

"I know." I knew that. "But it feels nice."

I couldn't help but smile when I heard him let out a small, surprised chuckle. 

"No one says that." He said.

I found myself grinning. "I know."

We both fell into a soft, comforting silence after that. I closed my eyes with that stupid smile still playing on my lips. I could never really get used to this, this happy feeling.

"Hey, Alas?"

"Hm?"

"Did you really never read anything in that journal?" I asked him softly. I didn't really want to touch that topic, but something about it felt so hard to let go.

"No. Why?" He asked.

"Did you know...do you know how your parents died?" I asked him slowly, unsurely.

He took his time to reply. "They were murdered. That's all I know."

I bit onto my lower lip. He wasn't lying.

"They were found in the mansion's swimming pool," I spoke up. "They drowned."

The silence after that felt heavier than a handful of boulders.

"Oh," He said, sounding strangely confused. "I didn't...know that."

"Why?"

"I didn't want to," He spoke up with a sigh. "I didn't want to know why or how they died, Lia."

My silence must've led him to think I was confused. I was.

"I barely remember my time with them. I rarely spent time with them," he said. "Like I told you, we weren't ever close like...a normal family."

I couldn't help but frown.

"And I don't feel bad about that," he added in. "It was always like that, just the way it was supposed to be. And I was fine with that."

"Oh," I whispered. I heard someone walking outside my room so I pulled down my duvet and peeked outside from the opened door.

It was Luce.

"I didn't try killing myself that way because of my parents," he stated out quite bluntly. "If that's what you were thinking."

"I was," I murmured.

"I didn't know about this, Lia." He said. "That wasn't why..." and when he trailed off, I decided to let it go. Even though I wanted to ask him why he had decided to kill himself in the first place, I let it go.

"Okay. I believe you."

Throughout the whole night, I kept telling myself that I believed him. He hadn't sounded like he was lying. And why would he lie anyway?

That's exactly what I told myself when I turned over to my side, looking over at the bright moon through the window, with my phone still clutched over my ear.

He wouldn't lie.

Then why did something feel so off about this all?

All I could hear at that moment was Alastair's soft, calm breathing on the other end, all asleep.

I smiled at that, even though my eyelids felt too heavy with exhaustion, even though my neck felt too crammed because of staying in the same position for a little too long.

"'Night, Alas," I whispered into the phone, just managing to end the call before my phone slid out from between my numb fingers.

I'll figure it out, I told myself just before giving into the heavy exhaustion.