hooray a new chapter! <3 i was able to write chapter three during my mom's chemo session today! don't count on weekly uploads, this just happened to be quite an early chapter. ignore weird mistakes and typos, hope you enjoy! xx

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"You don't have time to be timid. You must be bold, darling." -Lumiere, Beauty and the Beast

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When I was pulled awake to the sporadic yet annoyingly consistent crashing of thunder, I wasn't even sure it was morning. No light filtered through the spaces of my blinds, and the world outside was being drenched in a fast, heavy downpour of rain. I squeezed my pillow tighter against my chest, leaning over to switch on the lamp on my bedside table. Brightness flooded the room, making me wince. With the use of my pillow as a shield for my eyes, I fell back onto the bed with a groan.

It was only six in the morning and today was Saturday, so I wasn't set to work today. Papa practically forbids me from working weekends so that I can have more time to focus on school work. Sometimes, when homework levels are low, I'll fight him on letting me go in, and today felt like one of those days. Today, I found myself really wishing it wasn't the weekend. I wanted to go to work.

Yeah, I know those two sentences sounded wrong. I mean, who doesn't love the weekend and days off of work? But I never found working at the café to be the type of tiring grind where it weighs down on you like a piece of sopping wet cloth. At the end of the day, I come down from a high that the café and our customers lift me to.

I'd be a liar if I said my desire to ride that high was the reason I wanted to go into work today, though. 

My arm reached towards my bedside table, accidentally swiping a tissue box to the floor as I felt around for the crumpled napkin. All last night I was replaying the moment Chris and I locked eyes for the first time in years. I kept sorting through all the different possibilities in my head. What were the odds he would come back to the café and claim he remembered me? Would he approach me at school? Has he seen me at school? I've seen him this whole time, but I had no idea if he's seen me at all. And what if he didn't recognize me – Darcy – and all I am to him is "that girl with the braid?"

A brief knock broke me from my thoughts, and I instinctively shoved the napkin under my pillow as the door creaked open.

"You awake, honey?" asked Papa, opening the door wider when he saw that I indeed was awake.

I nodded in reply, wrapping myself in my blanket. I scooted and patted the spot next to me, saying, "I was wondering when you'd come knocking."

Him and the mattress beneath us groaned as he sat. "Now I'll tell you, Darce" – he wagged his finger towards the window, almost as if he was chastising Mother Nature – "this damn thunder really makes me mad when it wakes me up."

I snorted. "Oh, yeah? Couldn't tell."

He grumbled a remark beneath his breath and I nudged him back in retaliation. "Well, we're up now. Breakfast or TV?"

His lips thinned for just a moment. "Actually," he started, "I think we need to talk."

This time, it was my turn to groan. "It's too early for lecturing. Why can't we ju–"

"Darcy."

My mouth snapped shut. There it was – that tone. I knew better than to speak when he pulled that card on me. It meant zero funny business. Ears open, mouth closed. He took my silence as a signal to continue. "Now, listen to me. I know you've been telling everyone at the Brew that I'm this mean old grouch hounding you down, as if it's a bad thing I'm pushing you to push yourself. I want that to stop, understand?"

Heat quickly began to crawl up my neck, burning my cheeks. I nodded, but kept silent. I had a strong inkling to where this conversation was going, and I silently cursed myself for it. I should have known he wouldn't fall for my ways a second time.

As if he could read my thoughts, he sighed and said, "Don't think I don't see the parallels, honey. You did this before, and now you're doing it again. In California, you threw yourself into whatever job you could get. You told me you'd start looking into clubs, try and be more social. Then I find out from Mrs. Abaroa that you've been eating in different teachers' classrooms since sixth grade?"

My whole body was burning now. Mrs. Abaroa was my high school Spanish teacher back in California who I took during my first two years. I ate lunch with her whenever she was free. Eventually, I opened up to her about how I felt more comfortable with adults than people my age, and how I'd been eating in the classrooms of my favorite teachers since I moved to California when I was eleven. Then, it was her. In middle school, it was Mr. Abel and Miss. Hines. Now, it was Mrs. Ichikawa.

"Now, if you want to look back at your school years and only remember this, then all right. I won't push any longer." He said it with such an air of finality that I figured he was done. My head had slowly dropped with every piece of exposure, I could almost touch my chin to my chest.

My voice downsized to only a whimper. "I'm sorry, Papa."

I've developed a habit of using my braid to channel my stress and anxiety into. I tugged at the ends, put my fingers through the holes, twisted it around, transferred it from one shoulder to the other. I've purposely kept it long all these years because of it. It happens so instinctively now that, in moments like now, I don't realize I'm doing it. Only when Papa took my hand in his and squeezed did I see. With my fingers restrained, they felt like school children hanging on every tick of the clock: antsy and restless.

"Darcy." He squeezed my hands again and urged me to meet his gaze. I did so, reluctant, but felt the nerves in my fingers dim when I saw the softness in his blue eyes. "The very thing that allows or prevents you from doing something is whether you believe in yourself. With belief and bravery, you can do more of what you set your heart on. Don't think you can do something? Ask why not. You know I understand why you have this preference. I hoped you would overcome it with time, but you've hid within your fears instead. I don't want it to manifest and hurt you later, so all I ask of you is to try."

"Yes, Papa," I responded feebly, my head dropping again. Papa was always so aware of how my past affected my today, and these "preferences" of mine had deep roots. I'm certainly not helping myself with the way I'm handling things. But those memories were so painful, it makes my chest hurt to think of them. I didn't want to think of them, but that's hard to avoid when you have to think of your fears when facing them.

He squeezed my hands again. "Try with courage," he softly stated.

"Try with courage," I repeated in a whisper. Try with courage, try with courage. I chanted it over and over again in my head and allowed myself to be pulled into Papa's arms. He pressed a kiss to the top of my head.

"You think you'd learn all this already from all those Disney movies you watch," he mused, not at all joking.

I nestled my head against his shoulder and shut my eyes. The smell of old spice emitting from his pajama shirt filled my lungs with every breath; it's a smell I normally associated with home.

"Papa?"

"Hmm?"

An image of a smiley face on a napkin appeared behind my dark lids. "There is one person I've wanted to talk to."

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Standing in the school cafeteria now really put into perspective just how little time I've spent in one before. Instances of not being able to eat in a teacher's classroom wouldn't be enough to push me to eat in the cafeteria. If it came down to it, I found a lonely spot in the halls to eat. Sure, I've been in here before, but other than a brief glance inside during a school tour, the only other reason I came in here was to get a fork for my lunch. Being amongst the crowd now, scanning over everyone in search of one particular person, I felt like a tourist in a foreign country. I was so, so uncomfortable.

Try with courage, I thought, pulling on my braid.

The cafeteria was designed with dozens of long octagonal tables scattered all over the place with stools attached to the legs. Due to the lack of accommodating seats, many big groups were forced to stand and huddle around their friends' table. Despite the cafeteria looking a little less crowded due to a field trip, Chris was nowhere to be found.

I wrapped my braid tightly around my finger, cursing over and over under my breath. My resolve was crumbling with every second I stood fruitlessly looking around the cafeteria as if I was a kid who couldn't find her parents. Self-consciously aware that my cheeks were burning and probably glowing siren red, I moved to get away, to run and hide in Mrs. Ichikawa's classroom. But then, almost like the universe gave me a big "oh, no you don't," I pushed open one of the doors right as Chris himself reached to open it.

The words "Oh, I'm sorry!" tumbled out of my mouth at the same time I instinctively jerked backwards to make way for him and slammed straight into a small pole.

His eyes widened and he reached a hand out. "Shit, are you okay?"

Though my face contorted with pain and I reached to rub my shoulder, I replied with a tight, "Yeah, I'm okay."

He nodded slowly, looking clearly unconvinced, but moved to enter the cafeteria nonetheless. Four other people followed him: three boys and a girl. They were clearly his friends; I've recognized them before. One, if not all, of them were with him at all times. They only made it a few steps in when I called out, "Hey!"

They turned and I internally shrunk beneath their questioning gazes. Chris held my own. Without his big, oversized hoodie over his head, he didn't look like the walking embodiment of heartbreak. Still, he wasn't the picture of cool, calm, and collected I always remembered him to be, and still see him to be, today. The small, goofy gesture of drawing a smiley face in response to my note on his cup meant he wasn't all dark clouds and thundery days. Would it show now?

Here we go. I sucked in a sharp breath, considered my words, then breathed out. "Chris," I finally said, shoulders dropping. "You're Chris, aren't you?"

He gave a slight nod. "Yeah, that's my name. And you're the girl from last night."

My fingers began to tingle. Does he not recognize me? I forced myself to continue. "Y-yeah, that was me. Um, but do you... remember me?"

The smile he flashed me threw me of guard. It wasn't a smile full of recognition or apology.

It was bitter.

"Yeah, Darcy. I remember you." This, he didn't say with bitterness. Although he said it with a neutral tone, the fact that he didn't say it with joy really took a stab at my heart.

"So, you did recognize me?"

His tone turned wry. "I recognized you in the halls around when school started. I figured you either came back to New York recently, or you've been back for a while now and transferred in. But since you stopped talking to me – to all of us, actually – I really didn't know." He shrugged his shoulders. "I also figured you didn't care or want to talk."

The underlying vehemence of his words struck me harder. Part of me was guilty and mortified; I wanted to apologize right away. But the other side of me was...  angry. A permanent part in me regretted falling out of touch with him and the others. And while I wish I had handled things differently when I was away, there was so much more to those five years that he didn't even know about! Quickly, that anger overcame all other emotions. I fixed a steely glare at him, ignoring the yikes-like expressions coming from his friends.

"Seems like you have me all figured out, don't you?" I retorted, scowling. "But you're right, you don't know, but thank you so much for your asshole assumptions."

I took pride in the falter of his and his friends' expressions. I held on to that feeling as I made a front to push pass them, but as I got farther away and slipped around a corner to hide from possible watching eyes, the facade fell. Only then did I notice how my body was trembling and my heartbeat was vigorous beneath my chest.

In all my daydreams of how Chris and I's first proper reunion would go, confrontation was not in a single one of them.

I slid down against the wall, clenching my fists as if to squash the buzzing nerves. Well, I thought, that's the last time I'm going to the cafeteria again.

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"Damn it."

"What?"

"I lost count on how many times you've yawned so far. I told Ben that I'd give him a number by the time this hour's up."

Ronnie looked so serious as she stared down at the freshly baked cupcakes that I actually believed her. "I went to bed pretty late last night," I admitted.

"Why?" She smirked as she slyly held up a paper towel with a heart drawn in frosting. "Were you thinking about a certain someone?"

I scowled at the inevitable teasing that was to come and snatched the paper towel, aiming a glare at her with such intensity before I realized that pink frosting was now smeared on my hand. I held it up for her to see. "I can totally smear this into your hair, you know," I threatened.

"I wouldn't have much trouble getting it out compared to if I smeared some in yours," she replied and gestured to her red short hair. It'd been longer not too long ago, almost down to her breasts, but she cut and styled it into a pixie cut when she became more busy in the kitchen. She really rocked the style, though, and preferred it more than her past locks.

"But anyway, if Ben told you about the smiley napkin boy, it's not what you think," I muttered. Catching on to the mix of anger and sadness in my tone, Ronnie dropped the teasing all together. Later during our lunch break, I sat Ronnie and Ben down to tell them what happened at school yesterday. I didn't see Chris at all today, but that's because I was purposely trying to hide from him – coming to school later, going straight to Mrs. Ichikawa's room for lunch, leaving immediately after last period. Yet, I was still on edge, thinking he may have seen me even when I didn't see him. After all, he said he's seen me since I transferred to this school.

I wasn't completely sure why I wanted to hide from him. Based on our last conversation, we're on rocky terms until either one of us decides to initiate another talk. Would that be me? I'm not sure. I'm not even sure what I was, or should be, feeling. I was torn between being apologetic for losing touch and angry that he made me out to be a bad person for losing touch in the first place. Losing touch can be a two-way thing!

I dropped my face into my arms with a groan of frustration. "This sucks!" I muffled into the sleeves of my sweater.

"Oh, come on, Darce." Ben jabbed at my side, making me jerk away with a squeak. It only made me angrier, like a bear being poked by a stick. He snuffed it out when he threw an arm around my shoulder with a laugh. "I'm just teasing, kid."

I wrinkled my nose at him. "You're only seven years older than me."

"Almost a decade," he pointed out, tapping my nose. "You're so young," he cooed.

"You're so old," I shot back, knowing full well he wasn't old at all. At twenty-three, he and his girlfriend of eight years were going to move to Texas once she graduates with her master's degree next year. He still has so much to experience.

From across the table, Ronnie rolled her eyes at the two of us. "If that's the case, I'm ancient."

"Ah, yes! Middle aged!"

She glared at him. "Thirty is not middle aged."

He winked back. "Just teasing, just teasing. But really, Darce" – he draped his arm around my shoulder again and gave me a little shake – "this really isn't a big deal. You guys lost touch, so what? Happens all the time. That's how life goes. You lose people along the ride while some hold on a little while longer. But you're back in NY now, so he can just come back on. No biggie."

"And sometimes there's some people you have to push off so they're not weighing you down along your journey," Ronnie piped in, expression looking faraway. I knew there were some rough bumps in the road for her. She was completely lost in what to do with her life when her parents refused to help her through culinary school. Their wish for their daughter was to be a doctor, but the medical field wasn't where her heart was.

"Exactly." Ben nodded. "I know you've struggled to find some friends since you've been back" – since I moved to California, actually – "but some friendly advice: when you find someone who makes you laugh so fucking hard you have to take a moment to actually breathe, keep 'em. You shouldn't have to bring people on the drive with you if they don't make you feel welcomed. It's your car. You choose the passengers."

"It's a good thing I have you guys, then." I smiled.

"Of course," Ronnie replied, crossing her arms. "I'll smack you upside the head and try to steer you in the right direction if you're going off road. Trust me."

"Oh, I don't doubt you," I drawled, knowing full well that she'll do that and more.

Bumpy as this ride may be, I'm glad I found a friend in these two.

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    "Yes, Papa. Ben left a little bit ago because he had to help Cass with some homework, but I'm fine closing up on my own. He helped with cleaning before he left." My phone was dangerously close to falling with its unstable position between my ear and shoulder as I gathered some napkin holders. I've seen one of the waitress's do it all the time with ease; I don't know how she does it.

"Come in and say goodnight before you head to bed, okay?"

"You got it, boss man," I replied. "I'll be home soon. Bye."

As I hung up, a funky song playing through the stereo came on. I wrinkled my nose and turned to head back to the register to change it when I jumped at the sight ahead of me.

Chris stood outside the locked doors of the café. That damned black hoodie over his head made it hard to see him for a second.

What's he doing here?

Shoulders dropping, I approached the door slowly, stopping when only a few feet and a glass door were between us. I took the edge of our sign on the door, wiggled it for him to see, then tapped my bare wrist. Resilient and undeterred, he shoved his hands in his pockets and merely teetered on his heels, waiting. I rolled my eyes. When I gave in to his pleading looks and unlocked the door, he practically leapt in to escape the freezing air outside. Not dressed for that kind of weather at the moment, I shut the door quickly before turning to him.

"You realize we're closed, right?"

He scratched at his wrist. "Yeah, sorry 'bout that."

I crossed my arms. "If you're here for another free hot chocolate, forget about it. You have to pay this time." There's no way I was going to break Papa's rule a second time.

He shook his head and took out his wallet, waving it for me to see. "Don't worry, I'll pay this time. Thank you for the free one, by the way."

I nodded curtly. "So, one hot chocolate?"

"Please."

We were closed. I didn't have to make him a hot chocolate, but after talking with Ben and Ronnie, I wasn't in the mood to contribute to any negative vibes between us anymore. Still, I couldn't help but feel a little awkward as he watched me make his drink. A long silence stretched between us until I said, "That'll be three dollars and twenty five cents, please," with the hopes of sending him on his way quicker than the casual pace he was setting here.

He nodded slowly and, without breaking his stare, dug into his pocket and placed something into my outstretched hand. It definitely wasn't the money he promised he was going to be paying with, but what sat in the palm of my hand had more significance than a couple dollar bills.

It was a small, red toy top from my childhood. It was introduced to me by a silly blonde boy when I was six years old. I couldn't help but laugh.

He straightened in his stance and crossed his arms triumphantly as he matched my grin. "I would've been seriously disappointed if you didn't recognize your beyblade."

I shook my head, turning the top in my fingers. "You still kept it?" I asked him in disbelief.

"As I was donating toys throughout the years, I kept a few significant ones. You always liked to use the red one, so I always considered it yours. I felt like I couldn't give it away."

"And you're giving it to me now because?" When I peered up at him, I saw that his head had lowered. For a moment, he stayed like that, staring down at the floor in silence as if he were waiting for me to chastise him. When he met my gaze, I saw the apology in his eyes before he even said it.

"I'm sorry, Darcy. I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to sound like such an ass earlier – you caught me at a bad time. A-and that's not an excuse, but I just wanted to come here and say I'm sorry." He blew out through his mouth and ran a hand through his blonde hair, removing the hood from his head. "When ya think about it, it was stupid of us to think we'd be able to maintain a really close friendship after you left. We didn't even have phones. We had email, but I lost the password to mine, like, a week after you left."

Laughter bubbled out of me once again. This. This was the Christopher I knew.

Letting my emotions take hold of my actions, I hopped over the counter to give him the cheesy reunion hug I'd been envisioning all along. He caught me readily in arms, lifting me up until my toes barely reached the ground.

"You're such an idiot, Christopher Radley."

He laughed into my hair and rocked me from side to side. "Let's talk about it over a cup of hot chocolate."

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woohoo! <3 darcy and chris reunion! a bit of a rocky start but it's all good ;) stoday's chapter question is: what do you do to help yourself when you're feeling sad or anxious?

thank you guys so, so much for your love on the last chapter. you all know how hard it's been for me to write so i'm happy that you guys enjoyed it, and thank you for any constructive criticism!

see you soon!