Chapter Text
The fresh mid-October air plunges into your lungs and fills almost to max capacity the exact moment you manage to escape through the metal doors belonging to the lecture hall. The concrete steps leading to and from the lecture hall are worn with partial wear and tear from the foot traffic accumulated by the thousands of students attending the university. Yourself included. The sturdy material beneath you carries the weight of your abrupt footsteps as you strategically zip along past and through the animated bodies of those moving around you.
Though the temperature outside is brisk and partially nips at the exposed areas of your skin, the sun is shining brightly overhead, lending the pleasure of warmth from its' dull rays. White clouds above within the same frame of the sky as the sun condense together almost like plentiful puzzle pieces, and clutter the sky as if they have yet to bridge the gap and merge as an entire entity.
You were more than grateful to have the opportunity to experience such perfect weather on a day like this. The kind of days to include extensive, but informative, hours of torteours lecture that just so happen to have the life drained out of you once completed- those days. Rightfully so, the radiating smile of utter bliss on your face simply cannot be contained- not that you wanted it to be. In all fairness, being cooped up and subjecting yourself to the stuffiness of the lecture hall for the entirety of the day was not the most thrilling thing to do, nor was it the most ideal, but, it is something that was required from you- the thousands of dollars paid in tuition said so.
Pinching at the thin cotton material of your jacket, you pull the fabric closer against your body when a gust of wind whips past you. Okay, maybe the weather wasn't so perfect as initially thought. And, perhaps you should have thrown on a thicker jacket before departure this morning. Still, it's not like you took the initiative to check the weather for the day ahead when your attention was more preoccupied on the fact that you were running late to your eight am lecture due to the faultiness of your morning alarm.
Stopping at one of the campus's most well-known landmarks, an old, large water fountain positioned perfectly in the center of the intersection between two sidewalks that travel from opposing lecture halls. Taking a slight step, your body weight shifts as you turn towards the crowd of people passing by you. Awkwardly, you begin to skim through the unknown faces that make up the majority of the crowd while the sound of water gently overlapping from the fountain hums in your ear lightly. Today, the plan was to meet and hangout with your boyfriend as per usual. The plan for today? To meet with him at a pre-determined location after the both of you were free.
As the minutes pass by slowly, you keep your eyes peeled for his familiar face. Anticipation eats away at your insides while the minutes pass by at an excruciating pace. Yet, still, even though enough time has passed, there has yet to be any sighting of him. And, at this rate, surely anticipation would consume you whole.
Enduring enough awkward instances of random eye contact with strangers, you finally pull out your cellphone to check his status. When the notifcation screen appears clear and empty of any messages or calls from him, it surprises you- maybe even worries you just in the slightest. Instead of dwelling, you manage to shove the hollow feeling deep inside of you in an attempt to ignore it.
Today 16:12
Where are you?
Your message was sent; all you had to do now was play the very torturous waiting game for a response.
Your. Favorite.
He would not just randomly ghost you out of the blue for no reason, at least , not without an explanation of some sort. These thoughts all of the same similarity race through your head as you search for some reasonable explanation behind his dissapearance.
Tearing your vision away from the consuming phone screen, you faced an internal battle of whether or not it was best to distract yourself with something other than your phone while aimlessly waiting around for who knows how long exactly. After only one glance around the perimeter, you elect that a nearby coffee cart parked further down right along the concrete path would be your means of distraction during this odd and questionable time.
After a long day of lecture, what's else would be a better distraction than caffeine anyway?
As you close in on the dark oak stained coffee cart, you cannot help but notice a familiar face standing behind the cash register. Your demeanor shifts brightly before sizzling out again upon realization. A young man stands slumped over before you, a disengaged expression weighing on his face, almost as if he is frowning. His expression was almost unnoticable at first, mainly due to the angle, but also due to the shadow casting down over the details of his face from the brim of his visor.
Naturally, you lift a brow quizzically while completing the last few steps of your stride toward the cart.
The man with blond hair and prominent sideburns perks up behind the register as you stand adjacent to him, his face flashes brightly as he says your last name, "is that you?"
"Yeah! Hey, Thomas!" your lips peel into a smile that matches his sudden perk of energy, "I didn't know you worked here? It's been a while since we last spoke. How have you been?" The smile on your face transitions now and beams brightly from reflecting the friendly moments you share with Thomas.
At the beginning of the semester, Thomas was in your German class- that was until you decided to drop the course and swap your minor out for French instead. The two of you always sat beside each other during lecture, ever since the first day of the course, you come to learn that conversation between the both of you was always pleasant. But, since your change of heart, there has not been much or any conversation at all between the two of you since then. It is more than likely that this is probably the first time you've even seen him again in weeks.
"I just started two weeks ago, and about that..." The slight smile he manages to wear on his face because of your arrival fades away momentarily. "Not so good actually," his cheeks flush with embarrassment, and his smile keeps wavering.
"What happened? Are you okay?" You ask, genuinely concerned about his well-being.
"My girlfriend broke up with me yesterday," he admits with a sigh and tugs on his visor to cope.
"Mina?" You ask and surely, Thomas nods quietly, "That really must suck, weren't you and her together for a while?"
Thinking back, you are able to remember the few mentions of his, well, now ex-girlfriend in some of the conversations you had together before. No matter what, Thomas always talked of her so fondly anytime she was mentioned.
"Since junior year of high school, she was my first girlfriend," his light brown eyes fall to the counter. "It was so... sudden. She didn't even tell me why, but, in all honesty, I think it was for another guy," his fingertips tap away at the counter anxiously.
Hearing Thomas explain his painfully fresh breakup makes your stomach twist and turn into knots for some unknown reason. Suddenly, there is a burning temptation to check your phone, but you refrain from doing so. Now was not the time nor the place, and instead you focus on the weight of his words and the concern etched on his face. You cannot help but feel a mix of empathy for him as well as the strange sense of unease within yourself.
"I'm sorry to hear that, and I wish there was something I could say to make you magically feel better," you shoot him a sympathetic smile when he finally lifts his head to look up at you.
"You know, I kind of feel a little bit better talking to you about it," Thomas admits with a meek chuckle. "Anyways," he flicks the brim of his visor, "enough about me. Is there anything I could get you?" He suggests the menu of drinks.
The corners of your mouth lift once more, "Surprise me?"
A small grin pulls at his lips, "on it."
You can't help but notice how Thomas's emotions seem to have pulled a full one-eighty compared to when you saw him standing idle behind the counter just a few minutes ago.
"Here you go, one large pumpkin spice latte from our seasonal fall menu," Thomas reaches over the counter, handing you a rather large paper cup, "Be careful, it's quite hot."
You accept the latte with slight hesitation to not accidentally burn yourself, "Thanks, how much do I owe you?"
While struggling to reach your wallet from the inside of your purse, Thomas speaks again, "Don't worry about it, the drink is on me."
"Are you sure?" The weight of your purse plops to your side, "Because I can-"
"Think of it as thanks for talking to me," Thomas flashes you a genuine smile while plucking a napkin from a dispenser to give to you, "just in case you need one of these."
"Fine, but I'm paying for my next drink," you say, still feeling reluctant to walk away without paying.
Quickly, you reach into your purse, feeling around for any loose money lying about. After a few seconds, you swiftly insert a few crumpled bills and loose change into the nearly empty tip jar without even examining the amount. The clink of the coins echoes softly, and you hope it can lighten his mood even in the slightest.
Thomas laughs after watching your efforts, "I hope to see you around."
"Me too! Thanks again, bye," you sip on your hot beverage as you steadily depart from the coffee cart.
When you pass by someone looking down at their phone, it reminds you to check yours to see if there was any response from your boyfriend.
To no avail, there are no new messages on your lock screen—only a single notification alerting you of a spam email. You tap into your text messages once again, curiosity gnawing away at your insides. Each second feels like an eternity as you scroll through the conversation, searching for any sign of life from your boyfriend.
Today 16:12
Where are you?
Immediately, you feel your heart sink through your chest as you notice that he's read your message. The same annoying, worrisome thoughts intrude your mind once again, and this time it's difficult to clear them from your headspace as previously done before.
Today 16:21
Floch?
Unfortunately, the smile you had plastered on your face quickly fades away. You groan under your breath, the lid of the hot beverage ghosting at your lips. The scent of various warm spices tickles your nose as you precariously watch the chat bubbles from Floch appear, then disappear, and reappear once again.
The hot liquid almost scorches your mouth as you anxiously draw in a sip, and then another, all while waiting for his response. Each moment feels like an eternity, and the warmth of the drink does little to soothe the growing tension in your chest.
A sense of bile rises through your throat as the chat bubble disappears, and finally, a response from Floch appears. You read the message over and over again, trying to decipher if there's some hidden intent behind it.
Floch:
I'm at your dorm building
The page stills for a moment when the second message of his comes through.
Floch :
We need to talk
In a complete and utter panic, and with every intent on running to your dorm room, you force your phone into the depths of your pocket feverishly. Carelessly cutting a sharp right turn on the sidewalk, your better judgment- and self control, are clouded by the thoughts running rampant inside your mind.
Your mistake was forgetting to double-check for any people around you before taking off into a hurried sprint. Because now, you big yourself pleasure by coming into contact with what feels like a slab of concrete in a direct head-on collision in the middle of the sidewalk.
Everything happens in the blink of an eye. The fresh latte flies out from your grasp and tumbles onto the sidewalk, splashing you with its scorching liquid mid-process. The hot liquid sears your skin and seeps into your clothes, all while your purse falls from your arm as you land flat on your back in front of everyone. As you try to process what just happened, you realize your "victim" has fallen to the ground with you—wait, on top of you?
Blinking continuously to shake yourself from the surprise, your heart is racing, and not just from the fall, but from the unexpected closeness.
"I'm so fucking sorry," you hiss through cinched teeth at the burning sensation from the drink, but also at the pain you felt from falling onto your back.
The contents of your backpack digging into your back was also hindering your comfortability.
Hovering above you was a man dressed in a heather grey tracksuit. In one ear was an earbud, while the other earbud dangled in your face from the neck slit of his hoodie. A few pieces of his hair fell over his forehead and the sides of his face, giving him a slightly disheveled yet charming look. You swore you could hear the faintest music pumping through his earbuds, a rhythmic beat that seemed to contrast with the chaos of the moment.
You blink a few more times, unsure if you're seeing things clearly as he pushes himself off of you and holds out a hand for you to take. Without another word or any hesitation whatsoever, you place your hand into his, and he firmly clasps it, pulling you up onto solid ground. The two of you bump into each other slightly, and you feel a rush of warmth at the contact, but you promptly take a step back once you find your equilibrium.
"I hope I didn't crush you, are you alright?"
"Huh?" your eyelashes flutter together rapidly, snapping yourself out of this weird and sudden trance you were in.
The unnamed man chuckles dryly, "Are you okay? That was quite a nasty fall. I hope I didn't break you or anything," he says with a hint of amusement in his voice, but overall, he seems genuinely concerned about your well-being.
"Oh, yeah, I'll be okay," you say, taking a look at your ruined jacket and shirt that was damp and beginning to grow cold from the latte, "shit."
His intense light brown eyes stare down past your feet, examining the spoilt cup of coffee and the rest of the scene itself.
"Here," he scoops up your purse from off of the ground for you.
You awkwardly accept your purse from the man and readjust both straps of your backpack on your shoulders.
As he stands in front of you, you can't help but stare at him, fully taking in his features. He is tall—much taller than your boyfriend. His long jaw is sharp and perfectly lined with facial hair, giving him a rugged look. His hair is long and a nice shade of light ash-brown, appearing to be shaved on the sides like an undercut. However, it's hard to tell for sure since the locks and strands of his hair are sporadic from the fall. Some pieces are stuck to his forehead from a thin layer of sweat, adding to the disheveled yet intriguing appearance.
It is now that you realize how his chest is rising and falling rapidly with quick, heavy breaths. It seems he had been on a jog before you came crashing into him; at least that would explain the outfit. The realization adds another layer to the moment, and you can't help but feel a bit guilty.
"Again, I'm sorry for running into you like a crazy person," you breathe out an anxious breath, "but I have to get going now, I have somewhere to be."
You snatch the littered coffee cup from off the ground and shove it into the nearest wastebasket as you clear the scene quickly. You had to get the hell out of there. The remnants of your earlier embarrassment still linger, unfortunately, and you can feel the warmth of heat radiating in your face. You could have sworn you heard the man calling out to you, but you refuse to turn around, leaving him in the same exact spot of the incident.
All you want to do is get to your dorm, talk to your boyfriend, and change clothes. Preferably to change out of the ruined clothes first, of course. The urgency of the situation with Floch weighs heavily on your mind, pushing aside any lingering thoughts about the man in the tracksuit.
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"Hey babe," the words that fall from your lips are uneasy whenever you see Floch standing just outside of your door.
Floch has his back pressed against the door, his eyes glued to his phone, and his face is expressionless as the blue light from the screen casts a glow over his pale skin. When he hears your voice, he slowly tucks his phone away into his front pants pocket, finally shifting his attention to you. You open your arms widely, ready to greet him with a hug as you normally would do, but at the last second, you decide against it, aware of your damp top and the lingering scent of now-spoiled coffee.
"What the hell happened to you? You look like shit," he says with a slight chuckle as he dismissively examines your appearance.
His words sting a great amount, causing you to bite at the inside of your lip, but you ignore him.
"I fell on my way over here, and my latte spilled on me in the process," you groan, the memory of the collision still fresh on your mind. "Do you want to come inside and talk while I change out of this mess?"
"No, I wanted to make this quick actually," he exhales uneasily.
"Okay," you wrap your arms around your chest, holding onto yourself tightly.
Your pulse quickens at the suspense, and the air around you can almost be cut with a knife while you wait for him to speak. It feels like an eternity passes until those dreadful words leave his lips.
"There's no easy way for me to say this, so I'm just going to come right off the bat by saying that I think we should break up and see other people."
Those dreadful words feel like the ripping of a Band-Aid, that or a complete slap to the face. The horrible predictions you tried to ignore happened to be true.
Oh, how you wished you were wrong.
You stare at him like a deer caught in headlights, trying to make sure that you heard him correctly.
"Wha.. what?" you croak, your mouth now feeling insanely dry.
The silence was deafening, and the ringing sensation began buzzing in your ears. You watch as Floch's mouth moves, but no words can be heard over the persistent ringing in your ears. Floch gracelessly goes for a hug, and even though you wanted to hug him- cling onto him, and try to talk things out, he'd already let go of you. The bitter scent of citrus, the smell of him, plagues you and almost brings you to your knees with a wave of emotions following along with it.
"I'm sorry," you were finally able to hear him once again.
"Floch..." The absolute last thing you did not want to happen was to sound like you were begging for him to stay, but you didn't want to just break up as if your relationship meant nothing either. "Are you sure about this?"
Your relationship with Floch was nowhere near as long as that of Thomas and Mina's relationship, but the two of you were almost at the three-month mark when November was to arrive. The two of you met on your first day at university at the cafe on campus, and somehow he was able to charm you in a dorkish way, and you allowed him to buy you a coffee. Considering your past track record with relationships, you weren't opposed to saying yes whenever Floch inevitably asked you to be his girlfriend. The rest was history.
And after all of this time, you were beginning to think that maybe it was possible you were falling in love with him. But, apparently, those feelings weren't mutual.
"It's been fun, but I think we'd just be better off going separate ways," Floch takes two steps back while staring at you, but your eyes aren't on him, but rather at his feet. "Again, I'm sorry for this."
The sounds of footsteps grow distant until there is no more sound left and you are left alone in the empty hallway. Your eyes stay nailed to the spot where he once stood.
He was gone for good.
You blink an infrequent number of times, lost in your thoughts, only being pulled out of your hypnotic state when the sound of people walking down the hall catches your attention. As soon as you look up to examine the hall, your gaze locks on a girl who is blatantly staring at you.
Ignoring the unknown girl, you turn to your door and fumble with the lock and key for more than a handful of tries, your hands shaking slightly from the mix of anxiety and frustration. After what felt like an eternity, you finally manage to unlock the door and push through the entrance, closing the door behind you with a soft click.
As you enter the dimly lit room from the lamp stationed on your bedside nightstand, your chest concaves whenever the door behind you supports your weight. Without your control, a wave of emotions crashes over you like a tidal wave. The skin of your cheeks begins to wetten from the salty stream of tears that bead and trickle down the paths of your face. The moment of solitude felt both liberating but also suffocating- as if the walls were bound to close in around you. Still, leaning against the oak door for support, you attempt to lessen the racing of your fastened heartbeat by controlling your breathing with slow methodical breaths.