maybe that's all we'll ever be --
an incomplete sentence,
a half - written story.
finished, without an ending.

recap of chapter twelve: eilish thinks that the new feeling is a phase; temporary. for the next experiment, everett tries to make them imagine a world without the other. eilish suddenly realizes more things about what she's experincing with carson.

T H I R T E E N

E N T H R A L L E D

THIS IS CERTAINLY NOT THE FIRST TIME. I'm sure of myself -- after all, I'm not a stranger to the extensive, stretching nights of sickening romantic contemplation. Nor am I foreigner to the plague of awfully crafted butterflies gliding through my system.

I'm still a girl, prone to the humane effects of attraction.

Quite surely I can live with this; assurance that the epitome of emotions temporarily residing in my heart will vanish someday. But there is the tremor of self doubt when he enters the laboratory.

"Hi Eilish," The double brown doors squeak when he pushes them open. There is a glimpse of people walking by; students and teachers in a bland state of grey.

"Hi. . . " I mumble quietly.

Something thrums against my chest. All I perceive is the rippling drum of my heart.

"What are you doing?" He takes slow, pracarious steps nearing me.

"Eating this pack of sour patch before you and Everett arrive," I say in between chewing.

I dodge the aim before he lays a finger on my stash, transferring to the bench against the window. Carson follows suit, sitting in front of me as the sunlight dribbles from the window of pristine glass.

"Please, Eilish! I haven't eaten lunch," he pleads.

"Then why pocket my candy? Grab some food at the cafeteria, don't victimize my sour patch," Safe to say, I'm putting up an outstanding facade that manages to conceal my emotions thouroughly.

"You're mean, Eilish. You stole my candy." he pouts pretentiously.

"What?" I hiss. "This candy is mine, you jerk,"

"Candy thief," he accuses.

But then our eyes meet for a split second.

Oddly enough, I don't feel like ripping out his throat.

The luminosity of the sun -- it brings out a lighter shade of brown to those eyes -- triggering an onslaught of emotions inside me. I break contact immediately and return to the sour patch. A few green and red sweets drop to the floor in the process, but I feel his gaze linger for a bit longer.

"Look. A candy thief and a candy waster," he blames playfully.

"Shut up, Carson." I scold, picking up the candy and leaving it on the table.

"Besides, where's Everett? It's nearly five o'clock,"

Unless my brilliant cousin intends on ditching simillarly to the countless times before, I'll be too adrift with emotions to even care about the experiment. Let alone remember that this is an experiment.

"But give me candyyyy!"

Especially because Carson's teasing is irregularly out of the blue.

"And Everett will be here, you're going to be coughing later because of all the candy you're refusing to share,"

Yep, the 'abandon your cousin with her almost crush' tactic isn't so far fetched from becoming reality.

So we wait (not that I care, particularly because Carson's company is growing on me).

He retrives an orange sketchpad, and scavenges for coloured markers scattered around separate pockets of his backpack.

"Dude, would you care to organize your stuff once in a while?"

It's simply a front, a miniscule enthrallment that should be obscure enough of my emotions.

"Nope," he responds blankly, continuing his task. As if he isn't satisfied with his reply, he adds, "But you could fix it if you want to."

Laughing comes automatically to me suddenly. Not the giggly cheery kind, but the 'this is pathetic but somehow hillarious' type. It surprises me more than it does to him, and my eyes widen in surprise.

"Never in a thousand years, Miller,"

But then I see it. With the tilt of his head and that twinkle in the warm, orangey-brown honey coated eyes. His hair. . . the curls of coffee colored locks that bounce with every tremor of a laugh. Amusing, that inkling of an emotion I presume is directed towards me.

I look away when he catches me staring, bringing my attention to the window. At this rate, my heart is fluttering in a cage and I am utterly hopeless against its power.

"Look at what I drew earlier," he flips the drawing book to a different page, a vibrant sketch of two kids in a school uniform. They are connected by a thin red string under a midnight blue sky lingering below a vertex of stars.

"Is it any good?" he asks, analysing the detailed artwork.

It's magnificent.

But I'm not going to tell him that, not if I want to inflate his evergrowing ego. And perhaps because a daunting bit of me believes that maybe I might be too obvious if I give a compliment. If I care.

"It's. . . okay," I mumble wordlessly. He frowns in dismay, placing his sketch on top of the essay I'm writing.

"Okay? On a scale of one to ten, how good is it?"

A hundred.

"Five,"

When he still looks unsatsfied, I can't help but burst into laughter. Carson knows his work is good, but I myself am having trouble grasping the fact that this boy in front actually pulled off a stunning portrait. And to think that his penmanship is simillar to that of a five year old's.

"Isn't that Mitsuha and Taki? From Kimi No Nawa?"

"Yeah!" he instantly lightens up. "The anime. I copied it from a magazine the English teacher gave,"

Carson's hidden talent continously captures me in a blister of shock. What I thought were most likely materials for school requirements turn out to be elements for making real art.

It brings another smile to my face, and I don't feel like holding it back anymore.

My mood does not change when the pocket of my jeans buzzes, the irrefutable caller ID of my uncle flashing on the screen.

"Hello?" My voice is dreamy, stuck in a fairytale.

"Eilish. Come quickly. . ." His voice alarms me, sudden and quick and the exact opposite of what I am feeling.

A pin drops to the floor. The sand within the hourglass stops the onslaught.

"Eilish?" Carson asks, standing up and taking my hand. "What's happening?"

The engulfing rush of adrenaline fuels speed; tints of color blurring to a prudent black and white. The world collapses underneath my eyes, every time I blink the cliff collapses little by little. The searing combination pierces my every nerve as it rises alive.

Come quick. Come quick.

a u t h o r ' s
n o t e

i feel like this is the most intense chapter yet! you know that feeling when you're just sooo inspired for writing as if nothing could stop you from constructing the best sentences ever? it seldom occurrs but when it does it's just the best (srry if u don't understand, again it's 2am and i'm just a mess HAHAH)

anyways, i also just finished reading anne's dream house (anne of green gables series by L.M Montgomery, book 5). it's a classic, and i just adore the series which i think may have caused a result in my vocabulary in this chapter.

tell me your thoughts below and pleaseee vote!

(i edited this chapter just now, still ain't perfect and probs gonna edit some more, BUT IT'S ALMOST 4AM AND MY BRAIN IS SPINNING HAHAHA)

l o v e ,
s t e l l a