A/N: Not a lot to say before this chapter, it's two scenes and that's about it. Still fiddling with the chapter after this one.

Special thank you to Kitkatkatester for the reviews on the last two chapters :D

Enjoy!

"You're home early," Zoey's mother remarked as her daughter entered the kitchen. She had been finishing up a snack of grapes; she worked from home nowadays, so she was there most of the time. "Did they let you off school already?"

Zoey dropped her backpack off near the door and bee lined it to the fridge without a word. She had yet to take her coat off.

"Or were you not feeling well? You look a little pale, now that I think about it…" She reached over to feel her forehead, but was unsuccessful in getting an assessment of her daughter's temperature.

"I don't want to talk about it, Mom," Zoey snapped quietly as she poured herself a glass of water and downed it all in one go. "I'm gonna go sew some scrap fabric into dish towels."

"Oh…you only do that when you're upset; did something happen at school? And you have some blood on your hand-"

Zoey didn't respond, taking her empty glass with her to her room. The blood wasn't hers, it was nothing to be worried about.

Her bedroom was stuffed with all sorts of little bits and bobs; old records sat in a box next to a vintage record player; her bookshelf was half-stocked with bins of fabrics and extra sewing machine parts; the desk was covered in papers and leftover threads, and the end was occupied by the sewing machine itself. The walls were decorated with artwork and band posters.

She placed the glass on a coaster on her side table, took her coat off, and set a record into place to play softly in the background. She then rifled through her box of scrap fabrics for a few minutes until she amassed a handful of various strips and swaths to patch together. She had homework, sure, she should probably do that.

She wasn't going to pretend like she could focus on school right now, though.

Pins soon held the cloth fragments together loosely, a crude puzzle forced to connect to itself.

If I could piece together what their deal is like this, things would be a lot easier, she thought as she turned the machine on. I'm not trying to play detective…it's a confusing situation.

The thumping of the needle up and down, stabbing the fabric and pulling the thread through, made her feel an anxiety it never had before. It matched her heartbeat that still hadn't really calmed down since she drove away from that house.

The gravity of her impulsivity was starting to come back to her.

I should be in class right now, it's not like me to ditch…

She nearly pierced her finger with a pin when she took it out.

People are probably wondering where I went.

She hit the end and turned the fabric to start a new seam.

I can't go back today, though, people will ask questions…

Even as she concentrated, her vision was starting to go a little blurry. A guitar riff hummed through the air from the record player.

She rubbed her eyes and tried to complete the short seam but just…couldn't focus right. Leaving the unfinished project on the desk, she went to lie down on her bed. What is wrong with me…I need to sleep, that must be it…my eyes hurt…

She turned off the world outside, but did not dream that afternoon. Her mind was empty. Quiet.

Too quiet.

The weekend came and went. School was becoming a blur of the same old same every day. The hard chill of late fall was more obvious than ever.

Zoey had not spoken to Mike since that time in the car. She had been warned not to; even if she wanted to try it would probably go poorly.

This was made more difficult when he was the one to approach her.

"Hey, um, thanks for bringing my bag to my house, my mom told me you came by to drop it off," he said as he stopped by her seat in history class.

The temptation to respond verbally was great, really, she wanted to say something back. But she didn't look him in the eyes and merely nodded, staring down at her unopened notebook. She could see out of the corner of her eyes that his hands were covered with bandages and then partially obscured by hoody sleeves. Do you really not remember telling me to leave you alone? Why are you talking to me?

"I don't…really know exactly what happened that afternoon, not going to lie, but…I appreciate you driving me home from school, as out of it as I was. You didn't have to do that."

…Does he not remember anything from that day he was missing?

Zoey was so tempted to look up; she could practically hear the smile in his voice…

"You haven't earned it."

What did that even mean? She hadn't earned his voice… of course she had!

Still, she would respect…his wishes. The wishes were his. They came out of his mouth, they had to be his…

She didn't see his smile fade when she said nothing back. She kept her eyes down, watching as his shoes walked off to his seat, his facial expression a little more concerned and sadder than before.

She had a bad feeling in her stomach after that. It didn't feel good to ignore him. If it was him.

She hated not being sure anymore.

Oh boy I sure hope this doesn't turn into a huge misunderstanding that leads into a fight, that would be just awful!

Lol nah they're not close enough for that, still gonna have some hurt feelings tho

Next chapter's partially written already so keep an eye out :)

Laters *dissolves into confetti*