11.
chapter eleven
let him go?

A day bled through, the anticipation of attending an orientation programme that was completely because of me hurting May and Dawn was holding a dagger to my chest.

"Hey, it's okay," May whispered, her hand hovering over mine as if to comfort. That was the least anyone could do to physically reassure someone who wasn't your biological parent or soulmate. "They won't mention our names."

I nodded, although in disbelief, biting my lip. The only thing interesting was the soles of my sneakers—the way the black Converse had life easier than someone in deep.

"Serena," Misty hissed from beside May. I tilted my head towards her in confusion, but she was motioning to something to my right. My eyes followed her gaze, and my breath caught in my chest.

Those very brown eyes that held something masked under the radar of regret stared right back. His eyebrows were knit together, his lips down in a sad frown.

The chatter, the cacophony of the hall, the speakers, Misty, May—everything drowned to the blurred background. Everything else seemed to turn gray. Everything but him.

He stood in sharp contrast—coloured—but holding the monochromatic key that shut me out from his life within himself.

Each breath I took felt like the daggers actually prodding through my chest. I studied him. It wasn't just his downturned mouth that showed he was hurting too. Too.

Every part of him carried a tint unique to humans. But one part—it was darkened. The circles around his eyes. As if he hadn't slept ever since I had walked away. Or he had cut me short.

To sharpen the contrast was how his sun-kissed skin now seemed devoid of its tan, leaving him a shell of someone really pale and blanched out.

Even his usually present boyish smirk was wiped clean—the one that had been most probably obliterated ever since he refused to lock into the sealing embrace.

His lips parted softly, as if hearing my thoughts. He stumbled forward but managed to catch himself before he crossed the boys' line.

But we couldn't stare forever.

I snapped my focus back to Aria's words, biting my lip to stop it from trembling. But my hands had it worse. May and Misty's voices echoed somewhere beyond.

But I disregarded everything—drowned out Aria too—when all the unbidden flashes of laughing with him surfaced in my mind, not for the first time in two days.

Once the crowd was dismissed to go home, I turned to May and Misty with a pleading look. They seemed to understand, even if they couldn't exactly empathise.

"Message us when you reach home," May cooed softly, taking my locker keys and the books I had to drop. Misty quickly assisted her, shooting me a worried glance.

"And go safely," she added, nodding as if she trusted me with myself. I returned the gesture, securing my bag and crossing my arms to hold myself.

"I'll see you guys tomorrow," I whispered. After a quick round of see-yous, I broke into a sprint. It wouldn't do good to linger within the building.

But then, something warm suddenly caught my wrist. The air was knocked out of my chest. There was only one other person who could do that in this world.

I didn't turn back, but staggered off-balance. Then another hand shot up to my bare shoulder and steadied me—the grip warm and possessive. Just how much more would he put me through?

I jerked my head back to face him. They still held pain. Funny how they could, when they were the ones who stared right through mine, transferring the essence of that four-letter word.

"Serena..." he trailed off, my name dying on his tongue. I gulped, shaking his grip off me. But then he gave another go, and this time, resisting got hard.

My voice caught within the web of phlegm in my throat. But I swallowed hard, fighting tears to look at him in the eye. "Can't you see what you're doing to me?"

He didn't reply. Just considered me, his own eyes growing moist. The crowd thinned around us, everyone filing out for the day and discussing happily where to hang out.

When he spoke, his voice was barely a whisper heard over the cacophony. "I made a mistake, and I'll tell you—I am sorry." His sentence cracked, and his free fist clenched at his side. "I'm sorry if you blame me. If I were you, I would."

"Stop!" I cut him short. "Stop with your small talks! I'm not ready to hurt myself over and—"

His grip tightened, and I bit my tongue to keep from yelping. His height was very helpful for him to tower over. But it wasn't intimidating. Rather, draining.

My knees felt like giving way at any point, but I held on—not wanting to fall in his plain eyesight.

"It's okay if you don't want to listen to me." His voice was still low, trembling, and oddly vulnerable. "But just this thing. Please."

I tilted my head, challenging him to go ahead. He caught on, but his grip only tightened further, almost to the point where his touch wasn't providing the usual warmth, but rather burning scars of his fingers over my pale skin.

"Don't. Don't, for the good name of the saints, tell anyone that you are my soulmate."

Something within me went out. My knees sent a warning signal; they were ready to lose the battle I was fighting in vain. Whatever came over me was violent—something so unlike me.

Jerking his hand away, I stepped forward, meeting his eye with a fury that reflected the blood boiling in my veins. "Don't worry. The feeling is mutual. I don't care if you want me as your soulmate anymore or not. It was just the universe and its freaking plans. You're not mine, neither am I yours."

With that, I left him behind. The tears I had fought for so long now rushed out, my hands trembling madly by my sides.
The words lingered around us as I chose to leave.

To let him go.