“burn out the
stars
with me.”

Who knew it would take just one phone call from Nora to end me up at a crazy college party.

It was one of those after-match parties, which was surprisingly being held within the grounds of The Academy. 

Coach there is cool with it, Maria told me when I had called her earlier, until and unless there are no drugs involved. 

Drinks were forbidden too, but apparently some dude hadn't listened (or cared) and spiked the punch with some vodka--which was, to be fairly honest, at every corner in that party.

I wasn't there to get wasted though. This was already a pretty shit thing to do, crashing at a college party, but my sole purpose for being here wasn't the mocktail punch. I was here for Alastair.

Later when Nora had convinced me to go after Alastair, I came up with a very simple plan: call him. But it evidently went down the drain when he didn't answer, which I had been expecting deep down.

So I chose my back up plan, which was to call Maria.

Maria answered on the first ring thankfully, telling me exactly what I needed to know. She texted me a short address, which led to this college party, telling me that Alas might be there. And if he won't there, she had said, then he would be in his dorm. He hadn't left his dorm in days.

"And hey," she had said right when I was about to hang up. "I...well, I'm sorry if I came too hard on you that night. You know, when I was worried about Al and didn't know where he was?"

"Oh." I had nodded even though she couldn't have seen me. "It's fine, Maria. I'm fine."

Which was clearly a lie since I felt everything but fine right now, standing in between this crowd around me, with all that loud music blasting through my skull.

Honestly, I thought, I never really understood the point of parties like such.

And a crazy after-match party inside the college? Well, that was a first. That had never happened back at my college, thankfully. But then again, the dorms back there hadn't been this nice either.

As I made my way through the packed-up atmosphere, I tried looking around for Alastair. I could barely move without touching somebody, and as my eyes trailed towards a marble counter, which was obviously serving as a tiny bar, I realized that I might just need that punch to go through this night.

My stomach was already in knots, telling me to leave, telling me that this was not a good idea. And then there was Alastair. What if I spotted him here somewhere, making out with some random girl? 

If I didn't have some alcohol buzzing through me, I was probably going to run away like the coward I was.

And I wasn't going to run away. Not today.

That's exactly why I picked up one of the shot glasses--which were lined on the counter--and gulped it down without thinking twice. A bad decision, I know, especially when that punch tasted so awful. What I just drank could've been anything. But I found it a little easy not to care when there was this loud, horrible music blasting in my ears.

I scrunched up my nose as I picked up another one and gulped it down just like the first one. I expected something to happen. A light headed feeling? A feeling of drunkenness? Nothing like that happened though, except for that really nasty aftertaste, even when I was on my eighth shot.

Then I gave up.

This was pointless, I thought. I was just stalling for no reason.

I sighed before straightening down my top over my jeans. It was a beautiful dark blue one, like the night sky, and even though it was an off-shoulder top (something that I would always exchange with a large hoodie) I still wore it. Because all my other nice shirts were in the laundry, and I wasn't really looking forward to wearing a tank top to a party.

"Hey," I stopped at the end of the counter, training my gaze at a blond boy who was literally sprawled on one of the chairs behind the counter, his feet resting on the countertop. "Have you seen Alastair?"

When he looked up at me from his phone, training that bored gaze at me, he just responded with an unbothered eyebrow raise.

"Alastair James Hawthorne," I repeated. "Have you seen him?"

"That's his full name?" He laughed a little dryly. "Why am I not surprised?"

I just stood there silently, hoping he would actually say something that I was talking to him for.

Then he added, "He's not here, darling. I'm pretty sure he hasn't been to a single frat party after...you know, the whole incident that people can't shut up about."

I nodded slowly.

"He must be in his dorm, though. Don't really know, or care." He gave a nonchalant shrug before going back to his phone.

I turned around and aimed straight for the tall wooden doors to leave. I probably should've gone to the dorms first, according to what Maria had said. She wasn't even here at this party, which was surprising since she loved parties. I never got to ask her why over that phone call.

As I left the loud noise and the small shed where the party was going on, I realized that there weren't many people out here. And those who were out here were already making their way inside where the party was going on. 

I picked up my pace and started heading for the familiar dormitory hall.

It was a cold night like every other night, but not cold enough for me to start shivering. I still wished I had picked up a jacket before I left Luce's apartment.

The dormitory hall was empty, just like the last time I had been here. There was no staff here this time which (Maria had mentioned) happened whenever these after-match parties happened.

It was just the sound of my hushed footsteps as I walked down the familiar hallway, somewhat glad that the lights were still on. I even started feeling a little dizzy by the time I reached Alastair's dorm room--or at least I hoped it was his.

I leaned against the wall right beside his door, blinking back the dizziness. Maybe the alcohol was working. 

Or maybe not. I could still feel the nervous knots in my stomach, begging me to retrace my steps and walk away.

"No. No." I told myself as I straightened up. "I'm not walking away."

And then I knocked on the door twice. As I was about to wrap my knuckles against the dark brown wood (the third time) the door opened itself, and since I was leaning on it, it made me propel forwards.

"Oh, fu--" I stopped short when two strong hands gripped my shoulders, preventing the fall.

"Lia." It was Alastair. And when I looked up at him, I noticed the surprise and the confusion. "What the hell?"

I pulled away from him then, his hands dropping down from my shoulders, and passed him a nervous look.

"Hey...sorry. I didn't know you'd be opening the door so soon or I would've..." He seemed to be listening patiently with the same frown. "...not leaned against it."

His eyes lowered down my face, raking through the rest of me, and blinked before looking back at me.

"Are you here for something?" He asked, while I tried ignoring the way the tips of my ears started heating up under his gaze.

A small part inside me had been expecting to see the hate, the frustration, the mistrust, anything that might have stopped me from doing this. But there was nothing like that in his eyes. Just that plain exhaustion and sadness, that was all there was.

"I...yeah." I nodded. Didn't alcohol make you talk smoothly? I was anything but smooth right now.

My eyes trailed down his face, noticing the simple white t-shirt and some grey sweatpants that he was wearing. His hair was in complete disarray. I realized the last time I saw him this messed up was in the sanitarium. And that, in turn, made me sad.

He raised his brows slightly, waiting. "What is it?"

I wondered if he would let me in if I asked him to. He probably would, I realized, because he didn't hate me. Not yet.

Swallowing uneasily, I took a small step towards him. I'd like to believe what I did next was all because of the alcohol. But it probably wasn't.

"I'm here for this." I merely whispered before further closing the distance between us, which was more like stumbling into him, gripping his shoulders, and then warm lips on mine. I kissed him.

Alastair didn't react at first, only stumbled back in surprise, into his room. But then he hesitatingly wrapped an arm around my waist, pushing me back against the door until it closed shut behind me. And then we were both inside his room.

His other hand cupped my face and my eyes fluttered shut when his lips moved against my own, slowly, unsurely. Just for a few seconds though, and then he reluctantly pulled away from me.

"Why are you doing this." He whispered, not caring to make it sound like a question.

I swallowed, and my hands went still on his shoulders, near his neck. 

"I...I'm sorry for that night." I said. "And for avoiding you. I didn't want to push you away. I don't regret the kiss or the night at the pool. I do like you, but--"

But. There was always a but.

"Ophelia," He cut me off, his voice so soft. There was this confusion in his eyes, yet he didn't pull away from me. "Are you drunk right now?"

I blinked in surprise. 

"I...think so."

He was frowning again now. And then I felt his fingers, a tender caress on the side of my face. "You don't have to get drunk to face me."

"That's not why I--" I stopped short, knowing that was exactly why I had drained those shot glasses. Because I needed something to face him. Because I couldn't do it myself.

Staring at him, I relaxed into his touch. "I want this, Alas. Please."

"You want what?"

I could hear my heart beating so loudly in my ears. I could feel the heavy, twisting knots in my stomach. Nerves, I was a bundle of nerves. But if I pulled away from him right now, if I let him pull away from me, I realized that I might lose him forever. And that scared me more than anything.

Alastair leaned closer, his beautiful grey eyes trained on me, entrancing me. 

"You want what, Ophelia?" He asked again in merely a whisper this time, warm breath fanning across my lips. "I can't do this unless you tell me to."

I let my fingers trail up to his neck, still not breaking away from the stare. He was here, right here, in front of me, waiting for me. I forgot about the whole nerve-wracking situation then. And even if it was just for that moment, it was enough for me to speak up.

"I want you to kiss me," I whispered, feeling the warmth slowly traveling from my neck to my face. His eyes softened just a little more and I relaxed even further. "Please."

He kissed me with a lot more desperation this time. Almost as if he was scared that this would slip away again. Almost as if he needed this just as badly as I needed it. I wanted this.

The back of my head hit softly against the door as he pressed his lips firmly against my own, both of his hands lowering down my waist. A small sigh escaped me and he let the kiss go deeper, his tongue trailing against my own, and a hot shiver ran down my spine.

All those worries and those awful thoughts just vanished from my head. Right now, all I could care about was him, and his kisses, and his awfully gentle touch.

I had my fingers threaded in his hair, tugging him closer, wanting more. And when he pressed closer, his hands gripping my thighs enough to lift me up, I wasted no time in wrapping my legs around his waist. His lips then left my own, placing soft delicate kisses down my jawline and near my neck.

A small needy sound escaped me when his lips found the soft spot below my ear, his teeth grazing against the same spot, gently sucking onto it.

"Alas." I breathed out, arching my neck as his hand slid into my hair, the other one firmly wrapped around my waist.

I was left panting by the time he pulled away just a little, not even noticing when he turned towards the bed and lowered me down on the soft sheets. I blinked up at him, my hands grasping his shoulders, and realized that we both were breathing heavily.

And the look in his eyes, the soft grey darkening like a beautiful storm, made my breath hitch in my throat.

"Are you sure about this, Ophelia?" He asked me in a low, raspy voice, his gaze darting down to my lips before slowly coming up to my eyes.

I responded by leaning up, pressing my lips on his, and savoring the bliss that came along with it.

He crawled in between my legs and pushed me down again, taking hold of my wrists and pinning them above my head, his head dipping towards my neck, slowly, hungrily, kissing his way down.

"Fuck, Ophelia." He murmured against my skin, and another small noise formed at the back of my throat, relishing in those slow, dizzying kisses. "You're driving me insane."

Insane. This was all insane.

I tugged lightly on his hold over my wrists and he let them go. Placing my hands on either side of his face, I pulled him back towards my lips, kissing him until I couldn't breathe anymore. He pressed lower against me, supporting his weight on his forearms, and a guttural moan left me.

There seemed to be this fire slowly growing inside my chest, spreading all into me. It was dangerous, I realized, a kind of danger I wanted to give into.

Alastair pulled away a little when I fisted my hands in his shirt, pulling it over his head. And as he continued kissing me, soft, dizzying open-mouthed kisses down my collarbone, my hands trailed up his back, soft and slow, feeling the way his muscles seemed to tense just a little before relaxing again under my touch. And each time he kissed me a little more fiercely.

I slipped off my shoes, hearing them falling down the bed with a soft thud. I was too distracted by his lips to notice the small tug at the hem of my shirt, and then the fiery warmth as he slid his hand inside, softly caressing the side of my stomach.

He pulled away again, enough to look down at me. It felt strangely hard to keep my eyes open, but I managed to look back at him.

"Can I?" He asked in a breathy whisper, tugging on my shirt once again.

I nodded, even though I could've felt that tiny dread in my stomach, gnawing and twisting its way up my throat. I ignored it at that moment, telling myself that it was fine. I was drunk, and I was fine, and I was kissing him. It'll be fine if I take off my shirt.

It has to be fine.

When I let him pull me up in a sitting position, ready to pull off my shirt as well, his gaze darted to my face, locked near my cheeks, and he stopped.

"Ophelia." He was frowning. "Why are you crying?"

I flinched a little too sharply when he leaned closer, and he stopped right then, pulling away in surprise. All I could make on his face through my teary vision was concern and astonishment, all mixed together.

"Did I go too far?" He asked me softly, unsurely. "Ophelia, I'm so sorry if I--"

He was cut off when a small, dry sob escaped my lips, and then I was shrinking backwards on the bed, away from him. Embarrassed, I felt embarrassed and disgusted and angry--all at myself.

"Hey," His eyes had widened in surprise. "Hey, calm down. Tell me what's wrong."

When he tried nearing me, I ended up shaking my head a little too violently, a few strands of my hair sticking over my tears. He stopped right there, his eyes still wide, not sure what to do.

What was wrong with me?

"I-I'm sorry." I cried, fisting my hands on either side of me, wanting to just disappear. "I'm so sorry. I don't know...I can't--"

"Ophelia." He cut me off. I wasn't looking at him anymore, but I could still hear the extreme worry in his voice. I didn't even notice that I had my hands covering my face until he was gently pulling them away, giving me enough space to breathe. "Look at me, please. Tell me what's wrong."

The heaviness in my stomach seemed to be growing more and more, pulling me down. It was scary. It was scary because that awful feeling was trying to claw its way up my throat, telling me all those things that I hated about myself, replaying that night in my head, that night when I had been panicking and there had been no one with me, not until I had called Nora.

Nora, I thought as I cried, she'd be so disappointed in me. Luce would be so disappointed in me. Everyone always was.

"Are you crying because of me?" Alastair asked when I pulled my hands away from his. Something was crawling on my skin and I hated it. I hated that dreadful feeling.

I noticed him clenching and unclenching his fists, almost as if he wanted to touch me, but was scared that I might run away this time. And it scared me too, that I was pushing him away, the exact opposite of what I came here for.

"N-No." I shook my head and my eyes welled up with more tears. "It's...It's my head. I can't stop thinking. I'm so...so sorry."

"Ophelia," I heard the soft, underlying pain in his voice, as if he was scared just as much as me. As if he didn't know what to do, just like me. As if it was tearing him apart to see me breaking down like this.

I didn't know how or when he got close enough to wrap his arms around me, but when he did, I was desperately clinging onto him. Because my head told me that he'd hate me and I was scared that he would finally know how pathetic I really was. 

I was terrified to lose him.

"Hey, it's all right. I'm right here." He murmured into my hair, pulling me impossibly closer against him. "I won't leave you. I promise."

And then I realized I was repeatedly saying the same words again and again against his chest, which were coming out muffled in between my cries, asking him not to leave me. His shoulders seemed to stiffen against me, yet his touch remained just as gentle as before.

"It's all right, baby." He whispered, gently stroking my hair, not letting go. "I promise I won't. Just...Just stop crying. Please." He sounded like it physically hurt him to see me cry. Which shouldn't have been possible. 

None of this, I thought, should've been possible.

We kept on sitting like that for what felt like hours. I still had my face pressed up into his chest, trying to level my racing heartbeat just like his was slowly calming down. I tried calming down, I really did, but all I felt was lightheaded and sad.

Alastair didn't let go of me, even when my tears stopped and it was just small dry hiccups leaving my lips. They eventually stopped too.

I felt him softly pressing his lips on the top of my head and I closed my eyes shut against him, not wanting to let go either.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" He asked after a while, just a soft whisper in my ears.

I sniffled in response, pondering over his question for a little while. I felt him slowly tracing circles on my back, which effectively seemed to calm me down. Or maybe it was just the exhaustion taking over.

"I...I don't understand how you could like me." I whispered, almost wincing at how hoarse it sounded from crying so much. I didn't say love because just thinking about it scared me shitless.

He was quiet, almost as if he didn't even hear me. And when he spoke up, he didn't care to make it sound like a question--something he wanted to know. Because apparently, he already knew the answer to it. 

"You were scared about that."

I shifted my head against his shoulder and his arm tightened around me.

"I wasn't expecting it." I whispered, then added, "I never expect it from anyone." I wasn't even trying to lie. Luce would've been proud of me.

Alastair sighed and pressed another soft kiss along the side of my head. "I don't see why not, Ophelia. I can't even imagine not liking you."

Why would he say that?

I shivered a little against him. My eyelids felt heavy, so I just closed them again. I was so extremely tired and this right here, being in his arms, seemed like the safest place in the world.

"I'm not like them. Everyone else." I was frowning just a little. "I'm not beautiful like them. I'm thin, and all everyone ever cares about is whether I'm eating enough or not. I'm not smart either. I thought I was...but I'm not. My dad was always disappointed with my grades."

Pausing, I felt a small lump in my throat, but I continued anyway. 

"I'm not even a good person. I'm not there for people when they need me. Not a good person. Not a good sister, or a daughter, or a friend. I'm just nothing."

When I fell quiet, registering all the words that I had just spilled, a small and heavy weight seemed to lift off of my shoulders. It was strange, but it made it easier for me to breathe. It was the exact opposite of the feeling I got whenever I had a panic attack. It was such a small, happy feeling.

It was probably the exhaustion that led me to momentarily believe that I might not even care if Alastair suddenly figured how true it actually was, whatever that I had just said. At least I opened up to him, I told myself. At least I tried telling him why I could never see myself as to how he saw me.

I slowly felt Alastair pushing me away. The surprise started settling in at first, a little fear too, but then I realized he hadn't really pushed me away much, just a little so he could look down at me. I was glad that he still had his arm around me.

"Who made you believe in all of that?" He asked softly, a deep frown on his face. I'd say he looked upset but he still had that soft look in his eyes when he looked at me.

I blinked slowly. "Everyone?"

The frown left his face then. He looked away from me and a dry, humorless laugh escaped his lips. "You think so little of yourself."

I didn't say anything, just let my eyes trail down his face, towards his strong, bare shoulders.

"What everyone says isn't always the truth, Ophelia." He shook his head just a little, his grip loosening around me in frustration. "I don't see you that way. I don't think I can ever see you that way. Having you in my life was the only happy thing I can remember. Do you really think I would lie to you about that?"

I stared into his eyes, at the sad honesty in them. I don't really know why I found myself thinking about Noah then, out of all the people I had ever known. It was his face that flashed before my eyes, the taunting smirks, the looks of disbelief and utter disgust.

"Everyone lies," I said, then my voice fell down to a whisper, still dazed with all those memories, "He lied to me too."

I didn't mean for him to hear it, but he obviously did, judging by the frown on his face. "Who are you talking about?"

No one, I wanted to say. But that would be a lie too.

"Noah," I said, then shook my head right after, a little too quickly. God, why had I said his name? "But it doesn't matter."

He was still frowning. "Of course, it does."

No, it doesn't. It never did. It wouldn't matter now.

I shook my head again, letting my head fall on his shoulder, inhaling deeply. 

"I feel tired, Alas." My voice sounded miserable even to my own ears. And then his arms came around me again, pulling me closer. "Can we talk about this later?"

I must've been really exhausted since I never really did this whole later thing--unless I was just looking for an excuse. But I knew this wasn't an excuse. I'd really talk to him later if he wanted the same. After all, wasn't that what Luce had asked me to do? Make him understand what I couldn't make her understand.

A slow, long kiss on the top of my head made another shiver run down my spine. Maybe he was doing this on purpose. With all these soft, gentle kisses, maybe he knew what he was doing. Maybe he knew I wouldn't pull away from those.

"Okay." He said. "Do you maybe wanna stay here for the night?"

I didn't have it in me to panic right now. "Do you want me to?"

"I don't think that's even supposed to be a question."

I couldn't help but smile against him. Maybe it wouldn't hurt as much this time.

"Let me just close the lights." He told me before pulling away. I shivered again and he must've noticed. "I'll get you something warm."

I didn't understand what could've been warmer than his arms until he got up from his bed, walked away, and came back with a large hoodie in his hands. It was warm, I realized when I shrugged it on.

A few seconds later, the room fell dark as he closed the lights and I crawled into his bed. The moonlight coming through the glass windows was enough for me to make out his silhouette as he neared the bed, sliding in next to me and pulling up the soft grey duvet over us.

When his arms were around me, pulling me against him, I didn't even seem to think twice before relaxing. I didn't mind that he was here, right beside me. Not when he seemed to be the only person right now that I didn't want to let go of. 

Besides, he was warmer than the hoodie I was wearing.

"Goodnight, Ophelia." He murmured into my hair, right when I gave in to sleep.

I dozed off with hints of a smile on my face.