Monday

On Friday, Nicola kissed her. It was that day that she disappeared into her room. It was that day that New Mother followed her to her room, lurking outside the windows and in the dark rooms where she had not resided. She'd stand there, neck pressed against the ceiling, and watch. Her eyes were taxidermy, but they'd flick whenever she'd turn on the light. It was in this that mother became relentless, feeding off the sadness Madison exhumed. Where Madison's loneliness went, she'd fill the void, like any good mother.

Without the light of Owen and the promise of company, Madison didn't go out. She stayed in her pajamas the whole weekend, and Saturday and Sunday blazed on a candlestick. Monday came and she did not attend classes. What good were classes anyway? The only decent information she learned was from Lotte, and she hadn't seen Lotte since Wednesday. Everyone was leaving her, or betraying her, and she wondered if she ever had any friends to begin with.

Monday afternoon she sat on her bed, tapping away at her laptop, preoccupied with the screen before her. She absent-mindedly touched her lips, probing the skin with her finger and wondering if they were as soft as Nicola's.

The weekend had been full of emotions. It made Owen uncomfortable. He had never been one to focus on his emotions and feelings, but after that Friday night, it seemed to be all he knew. He was guilty after allowing Nicola to kiss Madison without asking, and the shame had eaten at his gut for most of Saturday, preventing him from enjoying any of his favorite Saturday junk foods. Then it had turned to hope and excitement. Maybe it would be different, if he could just find a good moment to take advantage--

But that's not what he wanted to do. Owen wanted to spend more time with Madison, that was it. He liked the idea of her mostly, and he felt they had barely scratched the surface in their small moments together. Sunday was spent lying on the couch, absentmindedly watching whatever trashy romcoms were on the television. He loved them for their cheesy quality. It made his gut ache.

Monday arrived in the form of a blessing, something he would never think of school and classes. The work distracted him from every thought he had had all weekend, and he was able to see other people and carry on conversations with them, ignoring the person he had been the past few days. It wasn't until he returned to the dorm that afternoon that he realized he hadn't seen Madison at all that day.

For a minute, he stood outside her dorm, attempting to work up the courage to talk to her. It was so unlike him to be nervous or careful; normally, he was so reckless and carefree that it got him in trouble. Instead of knocking, Owen turned away and walked to his own dorm. Once inside, he threw his bag into his room and collapsed on the couch. He pulled his phone from his pocket, navigated to where he wanted to be, and quickly typed and sent a message to Madison before he could think about it anymore.

Hey, didn't see you today. Hope all is well and it was a(n unfortunate) accident.

Madison's phone sprung to life on her nightstand. It almost startled her, and she jumped a little, blinking sleepy-eyed at the device. The name that showed on the alert made her stomach lurch. Owen. It was a message from Owen. She thought about not answering it, but she never trusted her thoughts, always doing the opposite of herself. Besides, she didn't want him to hate her. If it was Nicola, she would have been happy in leaving it without a response, but she liked Owen. She wanted him to like her too, without actually seeing her. The girl swiped past her home page, a night sky in a countryside, and replied with a quick, one-worded answer.

Sick.

She went back to what she was doing.

The phone buzzed lightly in his hand. Owen quickly swiped the lock screen away to see Madison's message. Sick? He wondered if it was true. He quickly decided she must be telling the truth, and he immediately wanted to go over to see if she needed anything. The thought had no sooner occurred to him than he considered the possibility that that was the last thing she wanted.

Looking around the room, hoping for inspiration, Owen's eyes fell upon the cap that he had taken with him on Friday night, the one that belonged to Nicola. Nicola. That was the perfect resolution! Returning his attention to his phone, he sent a quick message to her, hoping the small plan forming in his mind wouldn't backfire entirely.

Madison's sick. Wanna visit her with me?

How much time had she had to think about this? Thirty hours? Thirty hours to contemplate on her actions on that night - it was enough time to make her regret the prank she pulled back then. Hieta had always told her she was the impulsive and rash kind of person who went into everything without caring what happened around her and without thinking, just because her mind was able to come up with strategies and plans in the blink of an eye. A so-called genius. So much for all of that talk. This kind of mindset was why people generally never stuck with her or stopped being her friends. Before, she always blamed it on the fact that they couldn't keep up with her level or their affinity for one another didn't work out. Always placing the blame on someone else because she hated being wrong.

The first six hours were spent saying it was Owen's fault: he suggested the game, so why wouldn't it be his?
The next six blamed Madison for not being able to realize it was a joke and overreacting.
A good eighteen hours shifted everything towards herself.

I was wrong the entire time.

It was a good slap in the face. Geniuses couldn't always be right, could they? So here she was, in the library, typing away and trying to distract herself with studies - something she could always be correct with. All of this thinking about other people was giving her more of a headache than she thought it would. Hell, Nicola had completely forgotten about her signature hat in the midst of it all. She just wanted to finish answering all of her questions for physics and forget that stupid mistake she made. Wasn't there stages of depression or something? Denial being one of them?

Yeah right, I'm not depressed over something like that. That was stupider than before. Her typing grew faster and louder in a heavy crescendo to the point where other students were staring into the back of her head, eyes twitching with annoyance that they're not able to concentrate as well. Suddenly, something tapped her shoulder and Nicola let out a groan, whirring around and facing the person with an ill-mannered, "What?" The librarian looked taken aback, her mouth hanging open without words, before she adjusted her glasses and replied simply. "I'm going to have to ask you to leave for causing a major disturbance among the other students."

Blue eyes narrowed in a cat-like glare as she closed up her laptop and stood up, leaving the library in quick strides. A whisp flickered beside her before her brother took shape. "You seem out of it recently. Is something the matter?" Nicola ignored him, trying to hurry to her room and lock it up. She wanted to study. Not talk about what the hell was wrong. Taking a deep breath, she knew it would be rather useless. Hieta could just float through the walls and disturb her privacy like he always did. "I hate being wrong." She glanced at him straight in the eye and as usual, his expression was always unwavering, unwilling to leave that emotionless state. At least when he was alive, he could smile or something. Oh wait, his death was her fault too.

"I should have noticed it would be something along those lines."
"What the hell's that supposed to mean?"
"As a genius, you consider yourself above everyone else, correct?"

Those words struck a blow. Had she always thought of herself as superior and looked everyone else in a condescending manner? Yes, people have told her to stop being so blunt and criticized her for how straightforward she was. No sugar-coating. The truth hurts, but it should be said. What's the point of lying to everyone if they sucked? "I... Well..." Did he expect her to answer this?

"Contemplate on it more. I do not expect an answer right now. See you tonight."

Just as suddenly as he appeared, her brother left. Nicola let out an exasperated sigh as she unlocked her dorm room, flopping onto the couch unceremoniously. It was a few minutes of peace and quiet before her phone vibrated in her pocket. Text message. Sitting up, Nicola scanned over Owen's message. Madison was sick? As if. Probably still depressed about that kiss - that was all it was in the end. It was just a joke... It was just a fucking joke... Denial. Denial. Denial. Promptly, she answered Owen's text.

Why do I need to? It's not going to make her feel any better.

Madison most likely didn't want to see her of all people anyway. The one who decided to play that kind of harmless prank. She said it before. Madison probably hated her for all of that. Who would want to talk to someone they had every urge to wring their necks or smash them with cinder blocks? It'd be better if Owen went alone. I'll take responsibility of this my own way.

... Wasn't this just trying to avoid the fact that she played a part in the whole charade?

Madison's roommates were gone. School hours had just ended, after all, they having friends and people to go to. The girl felt guilty, a sick feeling in her stomach. It wasn't illness, it was awareness. She was aware of her own patheticalness, the way she stayed inside all weekend for one stupid thing. Should she apologize to Nicola?

This was just a domino, however, that set off memories of all of Nicola's transgressions, however, all of her apathetic comments and snide remarks, all the times she put Madison down, the time she didn't let Madison die when she just wanted to die. What was that for? So they can be friends? Nicola wasn't her friend. Nicola never wanted to be her friend.

And where did Owen factor into this? He was just a nightlight, a guide to transport her across the untouchable. She used him. She never talked to him, and they didn't know anything about each other. All he was was a flashlight. Why did he care about her staying in for all this time or not?

The girl silently opened her door, walking to the kitchen to get something to eat, furthering the cycle she had been completing all weekend. Sit down, get up and eat, sit down, get up and eat. Pathetic. She looked to the dark room of her roommate, left ajar so that she could just see the parasites that festered inside of it. They were waiting to take her. Why was she putting off the inevitable?

Nicola's text set him off. Owen felt determination rise up inside of his chest and take over his actions. He hadn't even changed out of his uniform yet, but he felt positive for some reason that this was the way to go. With great exasperation, he pushed himself off the couch, ready to go out and check on Madison.

We're both her friend. It's a nice gesture.

He shot the text back at Nicola before shedding his blazer and rolling up the sleeves on his shirt. For a brief moment, he heard spy music playing in the back of his head. It was almost like he was on a mission to fix things. Glancing quickly around the room, he determined everything was fine, and grabbed his phone, heading out the door.

Nicola's dorm wasn't very far from his. He approached the door and knocked loudly.
"Nicola, come on!" he called.

Friend? Was this some kind of joke or something? Nicola groaned, placing her phone on the coffee table as soon as she turned it off. What part of 'no' was so hard to understand? This was her own way of accepting Madison's wishes and that was all there was to it. It wasn't like she was trying to make it into a practical joke or mess around with her feelings; hell, it was probably better if they avoided each other altogether. Personal punchbag or not, there was only so much the punchbag could take before it burst open and sand spilled out onto the ground. When that happened, you move on and replaced it with a new, mint-condition one. Friends might as well be as disposable as a tissue someone used to blow their nose. Maybe it was her own incapacity to form close relationships and remain that "all-people's" person but enough with someone was enough.

She took it too far, pushed it a little too much and once the water balloon launched from the catapult, its fate was already decided. It wasn't a clumsy accident and there was no excuse for her actions back then. Everything happened because she decided a simple tease or prank like that would be alright. Didn't consider the victim's feelings and passed it off as a joke... Wasn't that what bullies did? Great, so she practically broke the law. Not like it was the first time it happened. One more problem after another. How could it possibly get worse?

Her dorm was deathly silent for a good five minutes or so until the sudden banging against her door snapped it awake. Holding her hands to her ears, Nicola already knew who it was. Owen. She wasn't going to fucking visit Madison. He could go alone, couldn't he? Or did he needed to be guided by the hand like a child clinging onto the parent? Hell, Madison probably could hear him from how loud he was knocking. Her room was right next door. Pulling her covers over her head, she tried in a vain effort to block out the noise. Why are you so annoying? Head pounding, she kept still as a statue.

Owen didn't know she was in her room. He could leave and think that no one was currently there. There was no way he was going to search the entire campus just to get her to see Madison. It'd be a complete waste of time on his part. So why bother? Flashlight could go see what she was doing without her.

This was all pointless anyway. You don't go and apologize to the person who you probably stole their first kiss from and expect everything to go back to normal with only a few words exchanged. That wasn't how real life worked. It wasn't logical.

The banging was just a muffle to Madison, but it was enough to rouse her from her cereal, the spoon suspended in mid air as she turned to the door. What was that? It sounded like it was coming from Nicola's door, a sharp sound to try to get her attention. Was it her brother? Perhaps it was Owen? Fear welled in Madison's chest, fireworks as she lowered the spoon. Was he rallying to visit her? She wasn't actually sick!

The girl left the bowl at the counter, rushing to her bedside to where the phone sat. Her fingers flashed across the screen, letters processing slower than her touch as she sent Owen a message:

What was that? Was that you?

He hoped he had his phone with him.

Owen couldn't care less if it was logical. He had been raised to show kindness and appreciation for his friends, and if he was being honest with himself, he was a little scared to do it on his own for Madison, especially after Friday night. He felt he was guilty for a lot of what had happened, and he had hardly done anything to make it right aside from walking her home that night.

No sounds came from within the dorm. Head angled, Owen listened hard, desperate for any soft footsteps, a shuffling of paper, perhaps the faint sound of loud music streaming through headphones, but he heard nothing. Fine. If Nicola wanted nothing to do with it, that was her problem.

"You left your hat at the arcade," he called through the door. If she really wasn't inside, he was making a complete fool of himself, talking to nobody. He pulled the hat from his back pocket, where he had folded it so it would stay. Carefully, he unfolded it, studying it as he returned it to its normal shape and set it on the ground outside the door. "It's out here if you want it."

As he turned to move down to Madison's door, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. Pulling it out, Owen swiped the screen to view a new text from the very person he was preparing to see. Had she heard his knocking? As he stared at the screen, he suddenly realized he should have been softer with his knocking. After all, he definitely knew that she was right next door to Nicola this whole time.

Tried talking to Nicola. Was a no go.

An unbidden silence thwarted the room, seizing it of any sounds as soon as the hammering ceased. Thank fucking God. If it had lasted for a second longer, she would've burst and strangled something. A small sigh left her once she realized Owen had given up and no words were exchanged, only the internal dialogue in her mind rambling on and praising her luck. Nicola's attention perked up when his voice seeped through the cracks between beneath the door, slightly muffled and distorted. Straightening up against the cushions, her hands uncovered her ears, brushing against the top of her head. And she blinked.

Her hat?

Quickly, she patted down at her hair, finally releasing that it hadn't been there since Friday night. Seriously? She forgot something that important in the midst of all of this? Yeah, right. As if I could lose something like that. Swinging her feet to the ground, Nicola fumbled around, grasping empty air in hopes that he had been messing with her and that she had kept it there. There wasn't anything to hold onto. If there was one to confirm that this was a joke, it would be to go outside and see her hat there or look at a mirror. Listening in for the sound of footsteps in the hallway, there was a blessed three seconds before it seemed like they were going away from her dorm.

Rushing to the closest mirror, blue eyes glanced blankly at her reflection. The figure that approached her seemed like it was her. After all, her signature cat-like gaze was staring right back at her, ashen white hair falling down to her waist and swirling inward like a rush of water. Only the most prominent characteristic was missing. Some of her normal features were contorted in a tired manner, strands of white sticking out, unbrushed and slightly disorganized. Was this whole incident that stressful? Why the hell didn't her brother point this out to her? He knew that cap was important to her, terrible father or not. There was no way that Hieta had missed that kind of detail.

Her heart sank a bit as the puzzle fit its pieces together and the whole situation finally made sense. So that was what he wanted her to think of? Fine. Could've been more straightforward instead of some cryptic Greco-Roman prophet, but it'll do. Taking a deep breath, hands smacking her cheeks as her eyes closed. "Jeez, I'll go fix things with her." The thought crossed her mind, and looking up towards the ceiling, Nicola muttered under her breath in annoyance, "How'd ya know about this anyway? Been stakin' out in other people's dorms?"

"I have authorization to do so. You can assume that I am monitoring their mental stability and daily activities in the case that they may be defying school guidelines." It had originally struck her as odd how her brother could simply appear wherever he felt like it and whenever, but it was something she had grown accustomed to. Of course, that didn't justify why he was constantly going around and nosing into other people's business. Was being a ghost that boring that snooping in students' private lives was his main entertainment?

. . .

On second thought, it probably really was.

He was leaning back, suspended in the air in a casual manner, glasses case in hand. His eyes were closed as he drifted towards the ground and stood up. Crimson red almost seemed to glare in deep blue as his hand pressed against her head, slightly ruffling her already messy hair. Wincing a bit from the gesture, Nicola felt like a kid again and was about to reach up and remove his touch away on instinct but kept herself still, a smile growing on her weary face. "I am here for you. Do not hesitate to ask for my assistance. I would prefer not to look into things on my own."

"Then don't. But... uh..." Her voice trailed off awkwardly as she ducked away from her brother, finding herself suddenly lost for words. This was new. How the hell did she not know what to say? Was it just that she was hesitating to say it because it was weird? But she had said these things all the time as a younger kid. It wasn't that embarrassing. "Thanks for worrying about me. Time to go fix everything."

Without waiting for his answer, Nicola darted out of the room and back to her phone, typing in her message as soon as humanely possible. The recipient wasn't Owen. It was for Madison.

Here's to hoping that she could do something decent instead of being a complete jerk.

Sorry 'bout the other day. Mind if I talk to you?

Once she confirmed that the message had sent - curse the school's poor signal - Nicola opened the door to her dorm, the hinges creaking from old age, and her eyes fell to the ground to the object in front of her. There it was. Reaching down to grab it, she firmly adjusted it on her head before leaving her room, walking towards the tall figure made smaller by distance with silent steps. By the time she had made it beside him, she managed to see just in time the message he had sent, peering off from the side and poking her head in.

"What's a no go?" The question came out teasingly as she tilted her head a bit in a mock confused gesture before leaning on one of the walls. "My hat's not for bribing me to do things, by the way."

Sorry 'bout the other day. Mind if I talk to you?

There was a sense of relief on the wings of this message, the kind of relief nobody wanted. It was the bitter flower of relief, a tulip breaking through the frost she had built up for Nicola. No matter how long she wanted to keep that frost, the snow that dappled her feelings for the girl, she could feel the thaw. She couldn't help it. It was a part of her, a laze to the effort of hating. It was hard to hate, taxing to hate. It made her bar herself in her room, and disjointed her life. But she hated Nicola. But she liked Nicola. But she loved Nicola.

Madison looked up at her room, at the crack in the door. "What do you think...? she called emptily to the man standing in the door. He chewed on his sleeve, biting bits of thread and flesh from its purple form. He of course, didn't answer. Perhaps there was no right answer. Perhaps accepting Nicola and denying Nicola were both good answers.

Perhaps they were both bad answers.

Madison put down her phone, ignoring the buzz of Owen's response as her eyes peeked up, tracing themselves in a trance to the traintrack patterns of the three windows of her living room. She walked, slowly, methodically placing one foot in front of the other as she passed her door, heard the jerking movements of the man's limbs in her dark enclosure. She opened them, the windows, and was met with a blast of cold. She narrowed her eyes, her breath exploding like dandelions, August dandelions, dissipating like seeded parachutes into her living room. Her living room was getting darker, the sky was getting less so. She could look for a few moments. It was either the window or the door, the sky or invaders. Perhaps they were both bad answers. In the choice of accepting Nicola or denying Nicola, the key to this was the "or." There was nothing else; to keep on living, she would need to choose one. Perhaps they were both bad answers. She had to die.

She drew the window up far, lifting a leg over the ledge, then another. Her bare feet were numb to the cold, but her whole body was numb long before she had opened the window, and she found herself sitting on the ledge, feet swinging calmly as her cotton pants rippled with the winds of a northern autumn. She stared out into the trees that stretched beyond campus grounds, lively and free, and she wished she could fly to them. She looked down to the ground below, three stories below. It was enough. Everything was enough. She heard the man in her doorway grumble squeals of encouragement, mumbling and bumbling with his words as whispers came out, fly, fly. She was truly alone, as she had always meant to be.

Nicola surprised him. Owen jumped half a foot away from her in shock, and then attempted to brush it off by shrugging, glancing at his phone before putting it on standby and tucking it in his pocket.
"Looks like it's only a go now," he said, smiling in relief at her. "I didn't mean for it to be bribery, I was just returning your property." Truth was, he had debated all weekend about whether or not he should return it to her. While it was hers, she clearly hadn't cared enough to come looking for it, or even to notice it was missing. But his upbringing told him it was wrong to hold onto it. Besides, it had brought her out here anyway, whether he had meant it to or not.

"Madison told me she was sick today, so I wanted to see if she needed anything," Owen explained to Nicola as they approached Madison's door. He raised a hand and knocked, much softer than he had on Nicola's door. Returning his attention to Nicola, he added, "Thanks for coming with me."

"If that's all you were going to do, then it'd make more sense if you did it ASAP, right?" Nicola replied nonchalantly, absentmindedly twirling a lock of hair with her finger. The way he backed off as though he were trying to struggle out of his own skin was something she'd keep of mental note to hold against him. It was way too humorous and the attempt to pretend it was nothing was even better. She just had to not take it to as far to an extent as she did with Madison. But they already called him the Human Flashlight for all that's worth. One more little thing shouldn't embarrass him all that much, right?

On second thought, she shouldn't try and test how fast it would take to break him.

When Owen re-explained everything that he had told her in his text before, she rolled her eyes, mumbling something under her breath. Did he really think Madison was sick? Sure, maybe that really was the case and she was actually ill with a fever or some disease that she caught. That was a slim chance - it wasn't winter yet and the weather wasn't all that chilly; only the occasional autumn breeze bringing a crisp draft in through the vent. Granted, she had parents from Russia. Were those kinds of traits passed on through alleles? If memory served her right, they did, but it'd be better to be safe than sorry and look it up in one of those dusty, old textbooks. Or, you know, be like every other kid in the world who searched everything up on Google. It was easier than scouring through each and every archive in the library.

A scowl deepened on her features, almost annoyed that he had taken Madison's words upfront. "After everything from before, 'ya think she's locking herself up in her room because..." Nicola paused for a few moments, allowing the words to sink into his mind. Owen should at least try and make sense out of everything. He could just be too willing to trust people, though. Didn't matter to her in the end - his way of life was drastically different than hers after all. Their upbringings were strikingly lurid. "... she's sick? At least try to think about it a lil'."

The mention of a "thanks" made Nicola divert her eyes, crossing her arms across her chest. A slight rosy pink surfaced on her cheeks, trying to pass it off as nothing. "It's not anything to thank me for. My brother made me come to my senses." Once he began knocking on the door, she couldn't help but notice the difference in treatment they got. Each pound when he was trying to get her out of her dorm had sent pain through her temples and here Owen was now, almost making no sound as though the ancient, Victorian door was fairy floss. Granted, if Madison really was sick like he had said, then it'd be no good to give her a headache and make it more difficult for her to recover. Favoritism seemed likely. It was in human nature.

Not a peep or sound could be heard from the other side of the door. An eerie, dead silence. What the hell was she doing in there?

Nicola didn't know what happened before they met that night on the rooftop. She never tried to look into it or ask, simply assuming that it was because of the hallucinations that drove her on the brink of attempted suicide. Her skin paled to an abnormal shade. Good grief, there was no way Madison would do something like that again. There was her mentor helping her and everything, she knew what to do with her gift. But after the events from that Friday night and the fact that she had locked herself in...

Fuck.

There was a light rapping on the door, a knock she almost didn't hear over the whipping of the wind. It was now or never. She had to pick one or the other. She leaned forward, feeling the gravity of height, the suspension she had as the last grips of her life came into being, and she closed her eyes, felt the wind like a bird.

When Madison opened the door, the window was closed, and she held her arms crossed, stammering a little as she murmured, "I t-told you not to come..." She looked at Owen, and to Nicola. The latter was longer, more engrossing, but there wasn't any anger or resentment in it. In fact, there wasn't much of anything. There was something different about her, something less conscious in her eyes, and she seemed glazed over. She kept her mouth closed to hide the clattering of her teeth. A single autumn leaf sat slanted at the foot of the couch behind her.