School. Felix recognized the layout to a cafeteria immediately, from the sights of the rows of tables with circular seats jutting out from the bottom, the distinct smells of mediocre lunch filtering out from the direction of the kitchen and meandering students, and the raucous dispositions of the teenagers subjected to this hour of sitting and communication. It was there where many of her nightmares had occurred, some appearing suddenly in her dreams and more of them in reality.

Nevertheless, this wasn't the same high school cafeteria she'd been accustomed to, of course, because it was Tegmark's. She had passed through her when they were going out of the school on that fateful day, had to pass through it because that's where the front doors were located. However, there were no familiar faces going around (at least none that Tegmark thought to remember the names of), so she ignored them as she stared vacantly at the blue table in front of her.

Occasionally, she'd look up and turn towards the kitchen, seeing the long line streaming into the pleasant-smelling place, but it didn't call to her, nor her stomach, so she remained where she sat, awaiting whoever was in there.

Felix, ever astute now that she had nothing else to occupy her time with other than Tegmark's occasional remark to something she'd seen someone do, saw out of the corner of her eye -- Tegmark's, not yours, right -- the large window engaging the left side of the cafeteria showed a vista of bright green, immature flowers slowly creeping up from underneath the oppressing stalks of grass. It didn't shock her that these memories hadn't been in chronological order. That's just not how memory works, she knew that. Yet she didn't know how long it'd been since that last memory.

It was important, too, because it could affect her relationship with Beverly or with Gordon, depending on who she was dependent on at the time. The passage of time, and therefore the growth of a person in that time, is severely vital to personal investigation, and witnessing the changes in behavior and decision-making in times of uncertainty is just as significant.

But was that what this was now? An investigation? Felix didn't think so. It might as well be anyways, because it was no longer a sense of pure emotion and abounding sensations, this was an understanding of those processes and how they coincided with one another to create the presence of a self-aware personality.

But all this introspective thinking began to hurt when combined with the fact that Tegmark's thoughts couldn't be out of mute (ouchouchouch, why does it just never stop?), so she leaned back, relaxed and awaited the ride to start its course down that familiarly bumpy ride. She'd learn by observing, watching and analyzing like she'd done in her forensics science courses back at the career academy, and the spectacle -- that's what it is -- would reveal itself soon.

Gordon came out of the kitchen, his styrofoam tray filled to the brim with lettuce, only contrasting with the bottle of milk which stood out from the sea of green. He kept glancing behind him, and Felix curiously followed his movements, watching through Tegmark's eyes as he turned out to be speaking jokingly with Beverly, who dazzling smile and enamoring laugh could be seen and heard from way over here.

Tegmark's heart caught slightly. What was he doing? she asked herself as Gordon began feeding through the tables, carefully weaving as to not have his salad drop from the tray because of someone's stupid movements.

Before he got to Tegmark's table, he waved a farewell towards Beverly, who had stopped in her tracks the moment she saw where the blonde boy was headed. Her despondent wave wasn't ignored, however, and the way she longingly stared at Tegmark before turning away and heading to another table resonated loudly in her head, as though a bomb had exploded and took over her mindscape.

Gordon sat down in front of Tegmark. His smiling face made her feel bad, as though she was missing out on the amazing jokes and hilarious topics Beverly had shared with him. Because clearly, he was in a great mood, engendered only by the redhead who'd given her heart-wrenching stares. "How's your day been so far, young padawan?" he asked amiably. He stuck his fork into the plate of lettuce after drenching the thing in ranch, and began to crunch. Oh, how that sounded so horrid. His dorky expression made it even worse, so she had to look away, down right at the table, not at him (or her, for that matter, she might go and accidentally look up to find her). "Has the dark side taken you under its wing, or have you finally chosen that you'll join the Rebellion to fight against the dark lord himself?"

Tegmark raised an eyebrow. "Seriously? Star Wars reference this early in the morning?"

"Technically it's the afternoon, since it's past noon."

"I don't care about the technicalities, just please don't make dumb references today."

Gordon narrowed his brows. "Why? You in a bad spot?"

"It's none of your business," Tegmark stated rather harshly. She tried to keep her voice down, but that didn't seem to work. It was almost as if her body was refusing to operate properly. "Besides, it's not like you have to worry too much."

"You sure? I've been your best friend since the beginning of high school, Jenny. If there's anything that's bothering you, I think I have the right to claim that it's my business."

"Well, if that's the case. . . ."

Gordon cocked his head to side, eager to listen. He was always ready to listen.

There had been times where Tegmark was unsure he would be willing to sit there and endure her constant stream of consciousness, listening to each and every word she said, but he made a significant effort to evaluate the situations she brought him and provide viable enough solutions to perhaps help her problems.

Of course, she never took any of his solutions into practice, because she was a proud independent woman who didn't need someone telling her the fault of her ways, yet it was nice to have someone there to comfort and relax you. He'd even made it a point to come to her when he had his own problems, most of them with trying to win over this girl named Max, which made Tegmark proud.

Now it didn't seem like the case. She had seen them, Gordy and Beverly, speaking with one another for the last few weeks, striking a friendship right out of nowhere after the whole fallout occurred.

She didn't want to think that there was something coming between them (or worse, between him and Beverly), but it came to her in little portions. Mentioning to her that there was something there, she had to be sure of it.

These thoughts, horrible in conception and downright despicable in practice, were ignored despite her strong feelings on the subject. There was no use arguing with them. They kept coming and coming, like a bombardment of waves on a surfer who expected placid waters.

So the only defense against them was to tune them out, find something else to occupy her time and her thoughts before they crept in and left their terrible residue asprawl.

She was facing her fears at school, though. She saw Beverly's face, saw how broken and tired and pale it was. Turning away was the only option, tuning out was the only option.

So, taking a piece of lettuce from Gordon's plate and eating it (she needed to eat more often; it was starting to get out of hand how much she forgot to consume food), she said: "No."

Gordon, who'd been leaning forward, suddenly slumped back, his head turned to the side in an exhausted manner. "You've got to be kidding me, Jen," he said. His voice was equally exasperated.

"Nope. There's nothing wrong."

Gordon shook his head. He wasn't giving up so easily, which was something that she appreciated but also hated sometimes. If it were any other time and she wasn't left alone in her desolate kingdom of self-created melancholy, it would be okay for him to push and push, to continue with his onslaught of questions and concerned comments. But today -- no, today wasn't free from her own shackles.

"Hey." Tegmark looked up to see his concerned face. She felt guilty. He was doing this for her own good, and she wanted to continue wallowing in the pain and suffering she herself had caused. It wasn't his fault. Then: "Is it her?"

That blew a gasket in her head. Now it was. "Don't," seethed Tegmark. "I don't want to talk about it."

"You never want to talk about it," he said accusingly.

"Because there's barely anything to talk about, Gordy." She sniffed, rubbing her nose. "I might be sick, I don't know. Do you mind if I go to the clinic?"

Gordon looked at her with dismay. "Seriously? Don't treat me like your mom. I'm trying to help you, y'know, but you won't share what's wrong."

"Because there's nothing wrong."

"There definitely is, because if there wasn't, why is Beverly so scared to sit with us?"

Tegmark could hear the thoughts. He's on her side, isn't he? Not mine, nonono, he's taken her side, he's believed her this whole time, right? That's gotta be the case, yeah, it has to be. She puffed out her chest, giving herself a dignified, better-than-you look. "She doesn't feel like it."

"No, that's not what she told me."

"Whatever she tells you, she's lying."

"She's lying?" Gordon scoffed. Tegmark was offended at the sound, ready to retalitate, but he spoke before her, and she sat complacent, for the moment, as he spoke his mind. "At least she hasn't told me nothing's wrong. I've talked more about this with her than I have with you because -- news flash -- she's actually affected by this."

Tegmark gasped. "You think I'm not affected by this?"

Gordon wavered a little. "You know how all of this is, I can't tell if you are when you're just blowing me off every single time I wanna talk to you. Hell, it's been to the point where Beverly speaks with me more than you do."

"Then why don't you go over there and talk with her if she's so perfect?"

"Because you're my friend, Jenny!" he said, his irate tone evaporating yet again into a mist of exasperation. "Dude, I care about you so much. You're my best friend, and --"

Tegmark's mind couldn't listen to him any longer. She wanted him to stop talking, to stop reminding her of how absolutely bonkers she was, so she said, in the most aggressive voice she'd ever exhibited: "You're not my best friend anymore."

This gave Gordon pause. The pregnant silence between them was deafening, even amid all the yelling, abrasive students around them. He stared at her with disbelieving eyes (they said nonono, this can't be happening, I know it's not to Felix). "You can't be serious," he said incredulously.

Tegmark said nothing. As Gordon stared at her, his facial expression matching the one she'd only seen when he witnessed a betrayal while they were binging TV shows, she felt . . . bad.

She was his best friend, and it was foolish, even dastardly, to sever this tie so abruptly and harshly without a cooling setup. The brunt of the strike was palpable, especially with the shock abounding Gordon as he remained stunned. Unwavering he sat, and she could only imagine the rapid thoughts of disbelief and wonder swirling through his head like a malignant hurricane, tossing away this foundation and bringing down another with one big gust of incredulity.

But, despite seeing the emotional turmoil ravaging Gordon's otherwise soft face, her pride held her down. Like chains holding a prisoner from rotting, sodden rafters, she was stuck to watch.

She allowed it to control her. Did nothing against it as Gordon tried pleading with her, telling her, "You have to be joking. This is all an elaborate joke from the two of you, isn't it? Yeah, it has to be."

But Tegmark only shook her head. Felix could see the devastation which rolled down Gordon's face at the slight, almost unnoticeable movement. He had looked defiant and brave prior, as though he were a courageous knight who'd proudly shown his heroic face to the mighty vessel of danger.

But the danger -- Tegmark was the danger here, Felix strongly believed -- had seemed to vanquish any sense of pride or arrogance he might have held, stripping him of his armor and revealing a farm-hand boy, who didn't know half of what he was doing let alone how to deal with and defeat something so uncontrollable and irrevocably unstable.

It was unspoken, but the damage was done. Gordon, weakened from battle and left to rot in his defeat, stood up from his seat. His words died in his mouth as he tried to speak, rather shaking his head once they failed to slide out of his lips.

He gathered his backpack from the ground, slipped it onto his back and picked up his lunch, a sore loser in a battle he would have won had the circumstances been significantly different. Tegmark watched as he went, following his limping form through the aisle of rowdy students, soaking in his feeble state and realizing how terrible he must think of her now.

But her pride bespoke its tale of triumph, whispering in her ear how wonderful it felt to tear something from your life that was only bringing you down. The negative thought thrived amid her broken state of mind, fueling her and her melancholy as she saw a fleeting glance back towards her from Gordy.

He had to have one final look to sink in before he swore her off for the next couple weeks, or months, or however long it took the two of them to repair their bond from this monumentally misjudged situation.

So when she nodded at him, a sad gesticulation generated purely from her own instinct, his small, nigh invisible smile was the nail in the coffin. Then he slipped in and disappeared into the swarming crowd of people which occupied the large volume of the commons, leaving her back where she had started, one less friend to worry about, one less problem boggling her mind through its many series of tribulations.

As Tegmark wandered her gaze around, trying to find something to focus on other than the conflicting emotions brewing within her, it was Felix who felt inconsolable. The last time she'd seen a fallout this terrible, it was on a documentary about Nagasaki. But this? This was a living hell.

Felix cherished and cared about all her friends, because many of them were very easily offended and could disappear at any time. Dylan himself was a sensitive bloke, finding something as harsh as the mention of his dysfunctional family or as little as the funny way he walks equally viable to give a major fuss about. Tip-toeing around subjects with him worked, though, and because she had appreciated the very caring and playful way their friendship went about, she didn't want to try and sabotage it with a minor problems which could amplify into a big explosion of emotion.

Not to mention that the unmistakable nuke she dropped on her ex-bestfriend Cheryl Graw, who was the epitome of happy-go-lucky with a little (see: uncontrollable) instability to go on the side, was hard on the both of them, more for Felix than anything.

It leveled their whole friendship down to the skin and bones, because pointing out the significant flaws and problems inherently exhibited by Cheryl whenever it seemed problematic was the wrong thing to do. And it turned out, unfortunately, to be vile exchange of events eventually leading to death threats of Felix's father by Cheryl's older boyfriend (who had no right to even be with someone as young as they were) and various mental breakdowns considering the nightmares plaguing her sleep for the last few years, some of the images leaving lasting effects which scarred her to this day.

She hated how badly friendships could end. Placating your companions was better than letting them get out of hand and causing massive damage to one's psyche. But seeing how Gordon looked, helplessly devastated that someone who he knew, trusted and believed in could treat him so vindictively, it was brutal.

Though Tegmark may have not felt like she'd been stabbed in the heart with a rusty knife, it sure did for Felix, and every pain-staking ache coursed through her, accentuating the suffering of the situation the more she thought about it. She wanted to hug Gordy, to apologize and tell him that he didn't deserve to be treated so harshly by the unbidden monster taking over Tegmark's body, because no one deserved to be left out to dry in the cold like that. No one.

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