I had a dream about us. We were standing in the middle of a road that stretched out straight into the darkness. Michael was wearing a familiar red cap, a dark shadow covering the top half of his face. He held out his hand for me to take and smiled to reassure me that everything would be okay.

We ran through the trees that stood like sentries on either side of the road until we came to a clearing where the line of trees had vanished to reveal a vast lake, the full moon beaming over the water. It was an extraordinary sight, but it didn't manage to put my thoughts at rest. Why are we running? What are we running away from?

Up the long and incredibly steep hill, he and I climbed for what seemed like hours until a shadowy figure came into view. A house. It was old, painted in dark green, and was positioned in the middle of nowhere. I had never seen that place, but somehow, I felt as if I had been there already.

My grip on Michael's hand began to loosen, and I watched in fear as he slipped away. I tried to grab him, but he was going fast toward the house. He didn't look back. He began to fade out of sight. I called for him to stop running and wait for me, but I was unheard as I spiraled into the darkness.

My leg jerked, and I woke up with a gasp. I noticed that I was in my bed, and Clover was sitting beside me. Her hair was damp, and she was already dressed.

"You're finally awake," she said.

I rubbed my eyes. "Wait... I... I was in the chair last night. How did I—?"

"You teleported," she replied, and I grunted a laugh. "No, I woke up at three and saw you in that awful sleeping position so I moved you to your bed. What were you doing last night? And what were those noises?"

"Uh... nothing."

She made a sly grin. "Did you have, like, sexy times with Michael over the phone?"

A tingle ran through my body, and I didn't feel sleepy anymore. Hitting her back, I growled, "Gross, Clover!"

She laughed and threw my bathing towel over my face. "Hurry up. We might miss the bus again."

When she left the room, I went to the table to check my phone. Zero new messages. The battery was almost empty. I charged it and prepared myself for school, shaking off the remnants of the dream and the foreboding feeling it had given me.

Him running away, and me being left behind.

──────

Michael didn't come to school that day. Not that he was sick or on vacation or had some appointment, just that he didn't come to school. Thinking about the strange noises coming from his end of the call, I worried about him, but I kept my qualms to myself.

I spent the time at school hanging out with the band. We chatted and jammed a few songs, our loud voices blending with the other sounds in the cafeteria. Clover had finally relaxed around Clint, and they began to have a world of their own, exchanging talks only the two of them knew. Clint looked like he was in heaven.

As much as I was loving the moment with them, I was also disappointed that Michael wasn't there. I found it odd that none of them spoke of him as if they were used to his sudden absences. However, it might be possible that they had spoken of him while I hadn't been around. Having senior friends was great, but I couldn't keep myself from being saddened by the overwhelming number of stories and events they all had together without me.

On the following day, Michael still didn't show up. We hadn't received any texts from him. The group decided to check on him if he didn't come the next day. One day of absence was normal, they said. Two to three consecutive days of absence was a red flag. That was just how they looked after each other.

As if it wasn't enough to make our concerns grow, Nate asked if there were any updates regarding the competition. He had heard that the Junkyard Chaos had received a congratulatory message from the management for passing the audition, much to his chagrin.

"Fucking called it," he said. "It was because of Claire that they got an easy win."

It had been about two and a half weeks since we emailed the audition piece and entry form, so by now, we should've received a response, too. Clover and I had been checking her email to no avail.

That evening, we checked the event website to see if the results had been posted there. I crossed my fingers behind me as Clover scrolled through the list of qualifiers. At first, we laughed at the weird band names, but our fun subsided as we reached the bottom page and didn't see Poetic Skyline anywhere. We checked it again from the top. None.

A heavy wave of silence crashed into the room. I sat on my bed and stared at the floor. Taking a sharp intake of breath, Clover closed her laptop and ran her fingers through her hair.

"Well, damn. There's our proof that I'm a professional let-down." She let out a low and dry laugh.

"Don't beat yourself up like that, Clover. Don't be disappointed in yourself—"

"I was the vocalist, Autumn. How can you expect me not to be disappointed?"

"Still, you did an amazing job," I said, striving to keep her spirits up. "Everyone had so much fun making that recording, and isn't that what's important? Michael said it was okay if we didn't win as long as we had a good time together."

She hung her head down and squeezed her hands together. "But it was my first time, and it flopped. As much as I hate to say this, I wish Claire didn't leave us. And I wish you guys didn't pick me to sing."

"Clover, we picked you because we believed in you."

"Well, next time, don't."

She stood up from the chair and climbed up on the top bunk to sleep.

I wanted to tell Michael about the results, but I wasn't sure if I should do it now. Scared that I might bother him, I left my phone untouched on the table and turned off the lights before hitting the bed.

As always, I spent the late night trying to find sleep, my mind plagued by disconnected events and things I should've done long ago. From time to time, the bunk would shake violently because Clover kept tossing and turning. When the silence descended once more, she called out my name in a whisper.

"Autumn? Are you awake?"

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry for being a bitch again earlier."

"It's okay. I understand how you felt."

"Of course, that's what you're gonna say. That's your catchphrase," she said, amused. "Sometimes it makes me worry, you know? Whenever you brush something off with, 'It's okay, I'm fine,' I get worried about you."

"Why?"

"Because it's like you're incapable of expressing that you're upset, and I don't think that's a good thing."

Her words punched me right in the gut, and I was unable to make an immediate response. My chest clenched tight as I remembered all the happenings in which I said I was okay when I wasn't.

"So you can be scarily insightful, huh?" I tried to humor her.

"I'm your sister, Autumn." I imagined her rolling her eyes as she said that. "So you admit I'm right. You keep it all bottled up."

"What do you want me to do? Scream and complain about my problems right away when someone asks me how I'm doing?"

"Honestly? Yes. That would be fun to watch. I wanna see you get mad like that one time in the bookstore. Oh! Maybe I should start bending the book covers on your shelf."

"Don't you dare."

She chuckled. "My God, your books are your trigger."

"Go to sleep, Clover."

She groaned at that. Not a minute later, I heard her snoring. Our conversation went round and round in my head for the rest of the night.

I couldn't tell anyone what I truly felt as I was scared of bothering or upsetting the person. I didn't want to worry them about my concerns, as they were busy worrying about their own. So, I tried to understand what they felt and attended to their emotional needs all the while hoping mine would just fade away. It was a problem that started at a young age and continued to grow until its tendrils took a grip on my heart and became harder to pull away.