Sunday crawled by at a sluggish pace, with Robin confined to his room for the most part, only emerging for necessities like grabbing some food or using the toilet. The lively sounds of his parents' activities downstairs echoed through the house, clattering about and hearing the occasional raised voices. He was almost certain Kate was mirroring his weekend, as she often did.

     Every now and again, Robin found himself drawn to the photo Jemma had sent, scrutinising every detail in an attempt to decipher its meaning. Yet, regardless of his efforts, he reached the same conclusion each time: Yohan had explicitly stated that he "didn't like boys." The message was clear: Yohan wanted Robin to back off and leave him alone. The entire day he spent beating himself up, trying to remember every interaction and every moment they had spent together. And how he could have done it differently.

     Ashley had sent him about thirty text messages and called him about five times. He hadn't responded or answered. He already knew what she'd say, and he didn't want to hear it. He'd debated telling her it went really well, but he knew he could never lie to her. He would tell her at some point, but he just couldn't muster up the strength to do it now. Just to calm her nerves, he sent her one text message, reading, "Sorry Ashley don't feel like talking about it I'll call you at some point this week xxx love ya."

♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡

     When Monday dawned, Robin found himself grappling with the reluctant urge to leave the comfort of his bed, apprehensive about what the day held in store. A conflicting dichotomy swirled within him: an intense need to see Yohan and, simultaneously, a sense of dread. He had placed the lighter deep into his front jean pocket, planning to return it to Yohan at some point during the day.

     A gnawing anxiety gripped him at the prospect of sitting next to Yohan in Form that morning. His stomach performed acrobatics, and his chest tightened at the thought. Sunday had become a mental battlefield as he replayed the potential scenarios a million times. Should he initiate conversation, ignore him, be concerned, or defy the unspoken rule by changing seats altogether to avoid him?

     The journey to school dragged on, and he found himself once again seated in his form room just as Mrs. Wheatly entered. Surprisingly, the seat beside him remained vacant. While Mrs. Wheatly delved into her customary announcements and mild admonishments about university preparations, Robin's gaze remained fixed on the entrance, anticipating the tall, dark-haired boy's arrival. Yet, Yohan never appeared.

     Throughout the psychology class, Jemma engaged him in conversation. Robin reciprocated with polite nods and thoughtful "hmms," but his mind was singularly fixated on one question: where was Yohan?

     Entering the old politics classroom, Robin expected the familiar scent of smoke that had become an integral part of the room and the comforting warmth of Yohan's smile as he walked in. However, the room stood empty. The lingering odour of cigarettes wafted through the air but wasn't as potent as usual. Sitting alone felt unnatural, as if a piece of him was missing. Every subtle sound—a creak, a distant footstep—prompted him to turn expectantly towards the door, only to be met with silence. No one walked through. No one was there.

     As the bell resonated once more, Robin navigated his way to the customary lunch table outside, where the group huddled together, wrapped in coats, as the September air grew colder. Expectant gazes turned towards Robin as he approached, taking his usual seat beside Jemma. He got out his lunchbox from his bag, placed it on the table, and removed his sandwich. His fingers were absently pressing into the soft dough of his sandwich, lost in thought.

     "So..." Jemma prodded, nudging Robin gently with her shoulder. "You don't seem to be your usual chirpy self today. What's up? Did watching my band really scar you that much?" She let out a nervous laugh.

     Robin glanced up from his sandwich, finding the entire group fixated on him, awaiting an explanation.

     "I'm alright... just tired, didn't get much sleep over the weekend," he replied, taking a small bite and forcing a smile as he chewed. "The band was really good. Thank you so much for inviting me," he added, mustering up some enthusiasm in his tone of voice.

     "Anytime! It was so nice of you to come, and I'm glad you enjoyed it! You're a real friend, unlike these guys," Jemma remarked, turning a playful glare towards the other members of the group.

     "We said we were sorry!" Amber interjected, waving her hands apologetically.

      "You didn't seem very sorry with how you were moaning on Saturday night, babe..." Lucy whispered, planting a light kiss on Amber's cheek. Amber froze, wide-eyed.

      "Gross, guys!" Isha exclaimed, feigning disgust. "Look, love that you two are together and in love, and it's very wonderful, blah, blah, blah... but we don't need to know the intimate details!"

     "I didn't even say anything..." Lucy mumbled, shooting Isha a sharp glare as she wrapped an arm around Amber's waist.

     "You can't talk, Isha; you didn't come either," Jemma pointed out.

      "I said I wanted to but couldn't! Next time, I swear!" Isha responded.

      "Fine..." Jemma conceded. "By the way, has anyone seen Yohan today?"

     Robin's stomach sank at the mention of Yohan, the boy who had occupied his thoughts since Saturday night.

     "No... I haven't. He wasn't in class," Robin managed, the sandwich in his mouth acquiring a sour taste, its texture feeling unsettling as he chewed the soft bits of bread, lettuce, and ham.

    "Weird..." Jemma muttered to herself. "I mean, he was pretty messed up on Saturday. Maybe he's still nursing his hangover."

     "Maybe..." Robin murmured, his mind preoccupied.

     If Jemma hadn't heard from him... Then where was he? Did he miss school because of– me?

♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡

     As Tuesday rolled by, Yohan was once again nowhere to be found. The mysterious absence extended into Wednesday, and by the time Thursday arrived, a sense of worry had firmly taken root in Robin's mind. Where could Yohan possibly be? The initial concern morphed into a flurry of unsettling thoughts. Was he that hungover he called in sick? Did he drink himself to death by choking on his own vomit? Or had Yohan become so repulsed by Robin that he chose to avoid school altogether?

     The days stretched on, each passing moment fuelling Robin's escalating anxiety. The unanswered questions hung in the air, casting a shadow over his usual routine and leaving him grappling with the unsettling silence that Yohan's absence had brought.

     When he walked into school that Friday and made his way to the form room, he was surprised to see a familiar figure sitting in the seat next to him once again. This time, not in his usual position of boots on the table and leaning back on his chair, but sitting slightly slumped, his eyes seemingly occupied with something in his lap.

     He's... back?

     Robin felt his body tense as he robotically walked over to the back of the class to take his seat. His presence seemed to shock Yohan slightly, as he jolted from his hunched position to lock eyes with his. His eyes appeared puffy, his face was slightly paler than usual, and his hair was more unkempt than it had been before. The usual ringlets that framed his face were frizzy. His lips appeared to be slightly chapped.

    As Robin settled into his seat, the struggle to initiate a conversation with Yohan became apparent. His throat tightened, and a wave of light-headedness washed over him with Yohan's unexpected presence.

     Relief coursed through him at the realisation that Yohan was okay—well, alive at least. The toll on Yohan's appearance was undeniable; he didn't look well. Summoning the courage to turn towards Yohan, Robin was met with a slight slide glance and an expression he couldn't read.

     Before any words could be exchanged, Mrs. Wheatly entered the room, demanding the class's attention. Yohan's gaze returned downward, seemingly preoccupied with something in his lap. Curiosity compelled Robin to steal a glance, revealing a lighter being twiddled between Yohan's thumbs. The stark red colour and a cartoonish weed symbol on it caught Robin's eye.

    I must remember to return it, Robin silently vowed, the presence of the lighter becoming more evident. He redirected his focus to Mrs. Wheatly's words, attempting to drown out the palpable strain in the air and resume some semblance of normalcy.

     The unexpected ring of the bell echoed through the room, catching Robin off guard and forcefully pulling him out of the trance induced by Mrs. Wheatley's words. The boy seated next to him, however, reacted with an almost alarming swiftness. Rising abruptly, Yohan disregarded the usual routine of slinging his rucksack onto his back, holding it tightly in one hand as he hastened towards the door.

     His actions carried a sense of urgency, adding an unspoken tension that heightened Robin's unanswered questions lingering in the atmosphere. With the door swinging closed behind him, an uneasy quiet descended upon the room, contrasting with the background chatter of other students. This silence accentuated the tense undercurrents that had seized control, leaving an unsettling feeling in the air.

     Exiting the classroom, Robin blended into the flow of students making their way to various classrooms when he felt a light tap on his shoulder. Turning, he discovered Jemma looking up at him.

    "He's back, then," she remarked, her cheeks tinted with a hint of blush. "Man, he hasn't been answering any of my texts or calls. I hope he's okay. Were you able to speak to him, Robin?"

     Robin shook his head as they walked side by side. "Nope, he hasn't said anything to me."

     "Umm... well, I hope he's okay," she said, a hint of concern flickering across her face. Raising her head, she forced a smile. "Well, maybe he just went on a massive four-day bender!" Jemma chuckled, attempting to lighten the mood. "He definitely looks like he has. Anyway, I better go. See you later, Robin." She waved before turning and disappearing down the corridor to his left.

     We have a free period after lunch... maybe I'll be able to catch him then? Then I can finally give him his lighter back.

♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡

     Before Robin knew it, it was his free period. He braced himself as he made his way to the politics classroom. He wasn't even sure if Yohan would be there; would he even go? As he opened the classroom door, the all-too-familiar hit of cigarette smoke filled his nostrils. And there he was. As if nothing had happened at his usual spot, he was leaning against the window, cigarette in hand. He looked over at Robin as he entered the classroom, an expressionless, stern look across his face as he closed the door behind him.

     Robin went to sit at his usual seat by the computer, and as he sat down, he felt the small metal object press against his upper thigh at the tension of his jeans as he sat. The two boys were silent, the crackling of Yohan's cigarette breaking the silence occasionally.

     I can do this...

     "Yohan..." His mouth managed to say, swallowing hard and picking at the skin around his thumb as he spoke, "About Saturday..."

     "What about it?" Yohan snapped, his demeanour appearing cold and stiff as he distinguished his cigarette and closed the window to sit down on the chair on the opposite side of the room from Robin. The distance between them greater than ever before.

     "I just–I wanted to–" Robin started to dig in his trouser pocket, feeling the cold metal brush his fingertips as he reached for it.

     "I don't want to talk about it," Yohan replied bluntly. Robin looked up at him; his eyes were dark, and a serious and cold expression crossed his face.

     "I know– I just–" Robin stammered, as he got a firm grip on the lighter.

     "I don't know what you remember; I mean, I barely remember shit, but it didn't happen, you hear me?" Yohan's voice was lower than usual, as he almost spat out the words as he spoke.

     Robin let go of the lighter, letting it fall back into his pocket, shocked at Yohan's tone of voice.

     "Yohan, I..."

     "Look, I don't think we should be spending any more time together. Okay?"

     "But– I thought–"

     "I don't give a shit what you thought; I think you should leave."

     "But–"

    "I don't want to fucking see you, okay!?" Yohan's words pierced the air; he almost shouted, and his breath seemed slightly laboured. His eyes, locked on Robin, appeared moist. The intensity of Yohan's rejection sent a shockwave through Robin, causing his own eyes to well up with tears. It was incomprehensible; they had been friendly before, perhaps even on the verge of friendship. Had his stupid crush ruined it all?

    Silently, Robin rose from his chair, gathered his belongings, and made his way towards the exit of the classroom. Pausing before leaving, he cast one last glance at Yohan, who now had his face buried in his crossed arms on the table. Yohan seemed to be struggling to control his breathing, his shoulders moving up and down slightly.

     Robin contemplated saying something, anything to mend the rift, but the tears in his eyes restrained him. He turned and left the classroom, tears starting to escape his eyes and stream down his face.