"I'm dead," Thomas groans into his pillow.

"No," I sigh. "You're just tired and your body hurts."

"Then let me sleep," he murmurs, snuggling towards me until his head is on my lap.

"It's Boxing Day."

"We never do anything on Boxing Day."

"We go sport."

"In what universe are you going to sport?" 

My eyebrows furrow. "What's that supposed to mean?"

He's too sleepy to properly reply. "Nothing. Just let me..." and then he trails off, into sleep

I don't think Thomas is planning to get out of my bed anytime soon. He's hurt and he needs to lie down, in fact. So I'll need to spend the day with others.

Normally, on Boxing Day, I join the market our town organizes every Boxing Day and I sell clothes I made, but with all the things going on lately, it wasn't on my mind to make extra clothes. But I for sure have a few old clothes. And I can ask others for theirs.

I just don't want to be alone behind that table with clothes. Minho will certainly not be in the mood for talking to strangers. I don't think Aris is the kind of person to negotiate either. Thomas has to rest. Finn takes Boxing Day a little too seriously (he goes boxing) and I bet Sylvia's with them. Neither do I want to spend the whole day with Mom and Dad— they're not good at selling things anyway.

I would've asked Evie, and the thought of that is a sharp pain in my chest. I force myself to inhale a shaky breath before I'll start crying again, and take my phone. I don't want to spend the day with a boy, so Newt also isn't an option. Maybe...

I take out my phone, unsure.

Teresa

Hi!! This is really random but I was wondering if you're free today? I'm going to sell clothes at the local market and I don't want to do it on my own.
If you're not free, we can still go for a coffee sometimes. We should catch up.

Hi, sorry, I'm not free today.

No information about the coffee thing. Strange, or I'm just seeing things.

That's okay. Thomas told me you'd still like to be Friends— we never stopped being friends, did we? So, again, wanna get coffee sometime..?

I'll see. Have a good day

Alright, see you!

x

Something felt off and I can't place it.

Who else do I have? Brenda? Can give it a try.

Just as I begin typing, I stop. It'll sound like I'm only using her when I really need her; I barely ever talk to Brenda.

Why do I barely ever talk to her? I don't know.

I've talked to Sonya lately. It's worth a try, even with her parents.

Ten minutes later, I've found out she's not allowed to go, unfortunately.

Harriet is the same situation as Brenda.

I sigh. Tilt my head back so it's resting against my wall.

Now I know why our parents were—and are—so stern about the amount of time I spent with Thomas.

But it still went wrong and now I don't have any girl friends. Not close ones, at least.

Well, Evie, but— I close my eyes at the thought. Take a breath. It doesn't help. Only makes me shakier.

Sometimes, making outfits on a mannequin I have helps. I walk over to my closet without a sound, so Thomas doesn't wake up, and go through my closet.

I give up three seconds later. This sadness will stay like a heaviness on the chest, as if I need to do something but can't remember what it is.

"Minho?" I knock on his door a few times, biting my lip.

He reveals himself, hair messy from sleeping, and a giant hoodie hanging over his torso. "Hi."

I burst out when I see him, wrapping my arms around him so hard that he stumbles backwards. "I miss her so much," I cry out. Then the sobs start, muffled in his shoulder.

Minho lets me cry for the following minutes. Meanwhile, he sits down on his bed for more support, and he rubs my back softly.

"I'm sorry," I apologize through my cries, "I don't want to upset you either."

"No, it's okay," he assures.

Once I'm done crying, he has to rub his eyes, too.

"I want to go sell clothes at the market," I murmur. "But I don't know with who. I felt like inviting a girl friend but I barely even have those because I've been totally... sucked in the world of Thomas. How does he manage to have so many friends after all? Why does my other best friend have to..." I just stop talking when I reach that point.

"I can go with you," he offers. "Otherwise, I'll rot in bed the whole day. And I don't know about the Thomas thing. Guess it was about time you realized that, can't lie. But you're still able to fix things."

"Teresa was acting weird. First, she says she wants to be friends, and then she acts strange, as if she doesn't want to be friends. Or I'm just delusional."

He grips my shoulders in his hands. "Do you know how many other girls there are on this world? Plenty, and I'm sure they'd all love to be your friend."

My bottom lip keeps on shaking as he wipes tears off my cheeks with his sleeve. "Really?"

"Yeah. It's almost shameful to say as your little brother, but you don't know how many people would want to be your friend. A lot. Why else would Evie had approached you?"

I feel another pang of sadness and hurt in my chest when he mentions her, and I know he feels the exact same way. "I don't know. But I'm shy and awkward as hell. Doesn't seem that ideal to me."

"The boys and the girls all like you, trust me," he says, strangely enough. "Okay, let's go to that market now. I'll see if I have some old clothes left."

I think he's going for the best version of himself after all.

At that thought, I give him a firm hug. He might not know why I did that, but I hope it makes him feel good.

Then I walk over to Finn's room. "Hi. Do you have clothes, Finn? Clothes I can sell?"

The door gets opened by Sylvia, surprisingly— no, that's not very surprising. She spent her whole evening at ours yesterday. "I'm so sorry, if I would've brought more clothes, I'd give you all of them."

"Oh, it's fine." I peek around the corner of the door. Finn's sitting on his bed, his shirt off, boxing equipment in his hands. "And you?"

"I need to train," he grumbles.

"Hey, hey." Sylvia spins around. "She's not asking you to spend your whole day with her. She just wants some clothes to sell for a charity."

Almost like a good little puppy, Finn gets up, searches through his closet, and then presses a pile of clothes in my hands.

"Thanks— wait, why are you in your own room? Where's Aris?"

"Yeah, getting difficult now that I want to spend my nights with my girlfriend and you want to spend yours with your boyfriend, isn't it?" Finn mutters.

True, because Minho is not going to sleep next to a couple, and neither is Aris.

"But where did Aris sleep?" I ask.

"Mom and Dad offed themselves—"

"Offed?"

"—to spend the night at the Reyes so Syl and I could sleep in their bed. Aris slept in my room, but he's currently downstairs."

"Ah, okay."

With a last thank you, I walk downstairs. Aris is sitting at the kitchen table, sipping from a glass of orange juice and drawing with the other hand.

"Hi." He jumps a bit at my greeting. "Sorry. Anyway, do you have any old clothes that don't fit anymore? I'm going to sell them for charities."

"Ehh, no, sorry." Aris scratches the back of his head. "I don't have many clothes and all the ones I have fit. But I can still give you some of those, if you want th—"

"No, no. It's fine." I smile at him. "Thanks for the offer, though."

"Are you going on your own?"

"With Minho."

"...can I come with?" He asks hesitantly. "I've got nothing else to do."

My face lights up. No girl friends, okay, but my brother and another friend. That's also fine. "Of course. I'm just gonna tell Mom where we're going. She's at the Reyes. You can already ask Minho what to pack. He'll know."

"Okay." He nods.

I nod back, smile brightening, and then cross the street to tell my parents about the market.

Once I'm in the Reyes' living room, I'm not only greeted by the parents' faces, but also Cynthia's. She's still staying at theirs.

Quickly, I summarize the plans to Mom, who says it's fine as long as we're home before dinner and we make sure to eat lunch.

"Hey, Viviette." Evie's grandma motions for me to come closer. "I've got a whole closet with girl clothes at home. I'm not sure what to do with it and if it's for a charity, you could use them," she says.

When I see the tears that are standing in her eyes I have a hard time swallowing mine away. "I mean, eh, if you want them gone, I can do that," I say.

"Of course you can also keep them if you want," Cynthia adds. "And you like sewing. Make news things out of it. Just don't let them go to waste."

I inhale deeply. "Yes, yes— of course," I stammer.

She hands me the key of the house. "Let me know if I need to help."

☯︎︎

So many clothes with so many memories that I can't just simply throw away.

I even find a drawer with clothes that have holes in them, or are ruined in some way. She must've been saving them for... I don't know what.

But I could cut those into squares. Sew them onto Minho's sweater like it's a print. He'd like that... I think. And maybe I'll manage to make something  for Cynthia. Maybe for myself, too.

But I think the rest can go to a charity. She would've wanted that.

I calm down my taking a few more deep breaths, then sort everything out in different bags. It's hard to not burst out again.

Once I'm done, a few tears for sure have dropped, but I do feel good about what I'm doing. It's a good thing to do. And her clothes can't be kept here forever.

I wander around her room before I leave. I look at the pictures of her walls. Mostly with her grandma, but also baby pictures with her parents. A picture of us when we got coffee and herself twirling around and laughing in a dress I made for her.

And then, on the printer, lies a selfie of her and Minho. She's smiling into the camera, her blonde hair covering half of her face. Minho is kissing her cheek, not facing the camera at all. It's taken on the beach.

They must've made that picture before the things fell, and she must've sent it to her printer immediately.

Another wave of sadness hits me. My eyes catch the invisible tape next to the printer. I'm not sure if it's right, but it does feel like that; I stick the picture onto the wall, next to the other ones.

☯︎︎

After a whole day at the market with Aris and Minho, I'm exhausted, yet satisfied.

All of the clothes we brought got sold, so we made a good amount of money for the charities, and that already makes me happy. Besides that, it was also nice to just spend time with my little brother and friend. There was no bickering. Even though that is usually funny, it's also perfect that there are no problems at all.

Minho bought us a few things at the grocery store, which we ate as lunch at our stall together. We spoke to a lot of people. I could tell it did everyone good.

Minho, because he came out of the shell he created around him after Evie's death.

Almost the same situation for me, but also because my main goal right now is to grow a more social life, I guess? I've been locked in my own bubble for way too long.

And Aris is slowly becoming more talkative, also to strangers. It's amazing to watch this growth.

Sylvia came by our stall. She said she left Finn for a little while so she could do that. We also saw Newt's dad, who apologized for the fact Sonya wasn't able to be with us. He said he's trying to change his wife's mind about their rules.

Oh, and Cynthia passed by, too. I saw some kids I recognized from school. One of them was Gally. It went like this:

"Hm." He held up a plain black sweater. "This is nice. How much is it?"

"Ten dollars," I said. "Do you want it?"

"Yeah, s—"

"Absolutely freaking not, he doesn't," Minho interrupted. "That's my sweater."

"Yeah, and he's buying it for a charity," I replied. "That's the point, isn't it?"

"No. I can't stand watching a kid at school wearing a sweater that once belonged to me."

Gally rolled his eyes. "Guess you have a point. I'll take this one, then." He took one of the tops I brought. "For my little sister."

"Since when do you have a sister?" Minho asked dryly.

"Why do you have hate for me for no reason?"

"You punched my friend in the face."

"He punched me."

"Thomas wouldn't punch anyone."

"Thomas is capable of many surprising things. Yes, he'd punch people."

It always ends being about the stupid punching thing.

I don't even remember it.

What if one of them—Gally or Thomas—just made it up to seem cool and the other can't stand being humiliated, so lies back?

It wouldn't surprise me if they did that.

And the lie would likely come from Thomas. 

He's actually so... trouble-making? Is that the right word? Yelling at the police, annoying Gally for no reason, making it very clear whom he likes and whom he does not like...

Speaking of Thomas, he's still passed out on my bed, snoring like a maniac.

"Are you ever going to get up?" I ask, sighing.

"You told me to rest," he murmurs.

Oh, I thought he was asleep.

Well, maybe he's sleep talking. I don't know.

His eyes are closed and his words are kind of quiet, barely understandable.

"Yes, whatever. You're boring."

"I got shot," he replies. "Let me rest."

Sighing, I fall down beside him. "Do you want to look at places for Greece?"

"No."

"Oh. But are we still going?"

"Yes."

"Do you want a house or hotel or—"

"Shh."

I sit straight up, arms crossed. "Don't cut me off."

"Sorry."

What an half-hearted apology.

I change the subject. "Are you hungry?"

"No."

"Thirsty?"

"No."

"Can you at least be something so you'll get up and properly talk to me?" I ask, almost annoyed. Or rather, sad. The whole day's been a mix of emotions. "Let's look at houses in Greece."

"Honey, I've already booked a villa," he mumbles. His eyes are still closed. Voice quiet. I don't think he'll even remember this conversation tomorrow.

Yet my stomach still flutters at the nickname. Heat rises up my cheeks as I clear my throat. "Really?"

"Yup. Twelve days. With everything you need, trust me."

"How did you... how much..." I stutter.

"Don't worry 'bout it. It's my present for you."

"But then what will my present for you be?" I stress. "What kind of villa is it? How much was it, Thomas? I swear. Let me pay half of it."

"No-oh," he draws out. "Relax. It's all settled and you'll love it. I won't need anything back but your presence."

Why is he making me feel flattered even when he's half-asleep?