~ 4 ~

Lily

At school on Monday—and even leading up to it—Damien was acting incredibly weird. Sunday was our rest day but we continued to talk about the project over a video call. I asked if he wanted to come over along with Max and AJ for "Bad Movie Sunday"—where the three of us watched movie critics' lowest-rated movies and mock them, but he wasn't having any of it. Monday morning, the three of us showed up to Mrs. O's class early to prepare for the seat swaps. Max and AJ, of course, were to remain in the same spots they were originally in, but my desk got switched with "High-Maintenanced Heather", who was sitting in the seat to my right, so now she sat behind me and Damien sat to my right. When the bell rang and the classroom flooded in with peers, I expected Damien to be one of the select few in the front of the crowd but he was nowhere to be seen. Of course, Heather threw a huge fit and made a big charade about having to sit in the back of the class and "knowing what it felt like during the Civil Rights movement". Because she's Heather, though, and typically gets away with everything she was given a slap on the wrist.

At lunch, in which we decided to stay on school grounds, AJ and Max talked about the raunchiest of things and cracked jokes about the upcoming football game championship that our school's team were headed to, but I just sat silently with my head in my hand as I twisted the plastic fork around my pre-packed frozen spaghetti now thawed and spread out on my tray. Where was he? Not that I was his keeper or that I was obsessed with him or anything, but it was going to look really bad if my chem partner didn't show up on the second day of his attendance and the first day of our official partnership. Added to that, Friday was the day we were supposed to carry out the grand plan; if he wasn't around at that time, I'd expect that he was going to ditch me completely. What would happen then? Would he tell someone? Tell my parents? Tell his dad?

The day progressed and there was still no sign of him. Expecting him to wait right by the entrance doors, I hurried out of my final class and made my way to the set of doors that the three of us typically did. Max was fixing her lipstick with a pocket mirror and a soft-shade pink gloss and AJ was (of course) pew pew'ing his life away. I approached them with each hand gripping the straps of my backpack; Max smacked her lips and AJ didn't even take notice.

"Either of you guys see Damien at all today?" I asked pensively.

"Nope," AJ quickly replied.

"You know I would've said something if I did," Max sighed dramatically, "but no, I didn't."

I let out a frustrated breath. "Where is he? He was supposed to at least be in chem class today to help me with brainstorming on this project and he didn't show up there. He wasn't in Abernathy's class, either."

"Why you buggin'?" AJ questioned me with light humor but never lost sight of his phone screen.

"I'm 'buggin'' because I'm totally screwed if he leaves me to do the project on my own!"

AJ and Max peered up at me in unison, both giving me that look—you know the one. The look that says "are you sure that's what's going on?" without actually using words. I rolled my eyes and huffed.

"Okay, okay… and maybe—just maybe—I'm a little worried about him."

"Well, he'll show," Max snaps the mirror closed and stuffs it haphazardly into the back pocket of her light-denim jeans. "He has to."

I nodded my head in agreement, but even I wasn't entirely sure.

…

At home I stayed up in my room, sitting at my desk to finish another round of calculus questions that pestered me teasingly. Even though I was excellent at math, I struggled with this particular unit in calc so I recruited Anthony's help via Skype. He was walking me through the problems one by one and had helped me complete two others, in which I double-checked for accuracy. Not to my amazement, each one was correct.

"...and then you just plug it into that formula and solve for the z-component to get the final answers for the sequences."

"You are a lifesaver, Anthony, thank you so much."

"It's my pleasure," he replied pleasantly. "I just… like to help, I guess."

"Anthony, don't ever let anyone make you feel insignificant. You're an amazing person."

He nodded self-consciously. "Thanks, Lily."

My phone chimed, notifying me of an incoming video call.

It was Damien.

"Shit, okay—Anthony, I gotta go! Thank you again for the help."

"Okay, L-Lil… any time. See you in class tomorrow."

I gave him a wave before disconnecting the call and switching over to Damien's tag. I picked it up, seeing his face pop up full screen on my phone. I couldn't make out what was in his background, but Damien himself was lying on his bed head resting to the side with hair frazzled. Bags were present under his eyes, and maybe it was just the lighting but he also looked paler than pale.

"Whoa… Damien, you don't look so hot. You okay?"

"Hey, Lil… listen, I'm sorry I haven't been in class lately. I've just been sick and that's why I haven't been around much."

"You had me scared shitless, dude; I thought something happened to you—"

"What? You're saying you were worried about me? And here I thought you still hated my guts." He gave me a smoldering smile. I felt bile rise in my throat; this was definitely one of the times where I could punch him and feel nothing but pride.

"Don't start," I warned flatly. "I mean… I'm just saying—you dropping off of the face of the planet without warning or communication… it's worrisome."

"Yeah, I know…" his voice trailed off. "But hey, I'm gonna be in school tomorrow—don't worry!"

"Okay, just… make sure you get some rest. You look like shit, and I need you focused and ready for this project."

"Yes, ma'am."

I gave him a smile before I disconnected the call, laying my phone on my desk. Hoisting myself up from my chair, I used my remote to turn on my stereo, adjusting the volume to a lower level. Calming indie music helps me soothe, and with everything going on I could use some soothing. As confident as I seemed, I was scared shitless. Max and AJ were right: this is a stupid idea—a real suicide mission.

I couldn't help but push through it. What if my brother was being tortured—has been tortrued all these years? Who was responsible for his kidnapping? Why did they kidnap him?

I didn't understand why I felt so confused—my parents' honesty was supposed to set me free. It was supposed to answer all of my questions—ones that I'd been looking for for a long time.

So, why did it leave me with more?

Soft lo-fi music played through the speakers of my stereo as I trekked on my carpet with bare feet. Pulling out my top drawer for a set of pajamas, I laid them out neatly on my sheets before grabbing a towel. A nice shower would help me, for sure. I know rinsing water doesn't actually clear your mind, but the feeling of something washing over you was so comforting.

Comforting and relaxing.

Enough to leave me room to focus.

Damien

My father showed me a prophecy of what was to come—a halfa would infiltrate the sanctity of the Ghost Zone in an attempt to combine the dimension with that of the human world before completely taking it over altogether. Human beings would be slaves under one tyrant, dwelling in a world where humans will do their bidding. It was safe to assume that Danny Phantom would be this tyrant, and I was desperate to come up with a plan to stop him. The major idea that stuck out was the fact that three of the Ghost Zone's strongest, most resilient nemesis' were leading a revolution. When I questioned this to my father, he explained that the Ghost Zone and the human world co-existed for a reason; both worlds needed the other to function—to thrive. If a halfa, one who was strong enough to do so, completely took the reins there would be no more freedom for either dimension.

As much as Undergrowth, Nocturn and Freakshow enjoyed the power of being on top of the world, they'd come to realize that taking it over would be much more complex than they'd ever understand. They didn't mind, in the slightest, coming together to minimize casualties and keep the playing field even. They knew that humans wouldn't stand a chance against a halfa with an army.

The first step was to put up defenses—once the initial attack commenced it wouldn't be long before the moths came to the flame. To be prepared, we had to be well-equipped. The next was to penetrate enemy territory—we knew of his last whereabouts, and all we had to do was follow the scent. The final stage of the grand plan: wait until he was alone to take him down. It was rumored that Danny Phantom had a child of his own, but nothing was ever proven; we had to be careful and time it right in order to succeed. His two accomplices, Sam and Tucker, were still likely involved with him. We were bound to face some heat.

When the plans were discussed and mapped out on paper, my father and I felt that it was a good time to return to our home in the human world. When we got back to the portal and went through, we transformed back to our human half; I didn't have time to ask my father any questions before he left me to my own devices. With the span of everything that had happened in the past few hours, I was overwhelmed and exhausted. I could feel the amount of time spent in the Ghost Zone was wearing on my body, and I perceived the message as needing to go upstairs to get some rest. Taking a couple of steps forward, I paused when a flurry of dings erupted from my pocket.

My cell phone.

I forgot I had my cell phone; they don't work in the Ghost Zone.

As soon as you step foot into that realm, almost every piece of technology ceases to function.

I pulled it out and awoke the screen, seeing multiple text messages—some were from Max, one was from AJ, and a plethora of them was from Lily.

Shit… I should call her back.

…

The next day in chemistry class, I had a hard time being able to face Lily after practically ditching her. Even after the call that we had the night before, I still felt like there were some stones left unturned. I mentally prepared myself, though, when I showed up about five minutes before the final bell. Our desks were swapped around to where Heather Revere was in my original spot and I was sitting to the right of Lily. There she was, though, remaining at the same desk with her nose in a piece of literary work. Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë—a very good read.

I gave a rather weak smile, forcing my muscles to contract despite their efforts to remain sullen. Making my way to my seat, I set my backpack down and unzipped it, gathering my class materials and spreading them out. She peeked to the right, removing her eyes from the bolded letters along with the pages. When she saw me her entire demeanor lit up like a child in the aisle of a Christmas shop.

"Hey! You made it!"

I didn't have the same energy that she did grant my mindset from the previous nights, but I did what I could to fake it. "Yeah… I did."

"Did you get the layout that I emailed you last night?"

"Yeah, I looked it over," I responded, taking a seat in my chair. "Seems doable. I asked my father for some money to get some of the materials. What do you say we calculate cost today and split it evenly down the middle for what to get?"

"Yeah," she nodded with a smile. "Sounds like a plan."

I moved my head in a random rhythm, tapping my pen along as I tried to quiet the near-deafening thoughts in my head. How would I tell Lily just what I was going through? How would I tell her that her mission would infringe on my plans with my father? Things weren't adding up about the whole situation and I knew in my heart that somebody was lying; I didn't know whether it was Lily or my father, but I knew that neither of them had a reason to.

Lily seemed to notice that I was lost beyond the depths of thinking because her entire stature changed from restless teenage girl to caring guardian. She leaned forward, eyebrows furrowed in pure concern. "Is something the matter?"

"Huh?" I snapped my head towards her and vigorously shook my head. "No, I'm okay."

"You know you can… talk to me… about anything, right?"

"Uh… I mean—"

"Damien," she cut me off. "Anything."

My heart thumped in my chest. I don't know why I felt so nervous to just be honest with her—I don't know why I felt immense guilt every time I looked her in the eye and blatantly fibbed. All I knew is that she wouldn't look at me the same if I ever came clean about my real intentions. She wouldn't understand; my father said that no one would understand.

I shrugged, my chest protruding out and reeling in as I sighed acutely.

I didn't respond and she assumed that meant that I wanted to change the subject. She shook her head profusely, immediately changing the atmosphere before the awkwardness settled in.

The final bell rang aloud and Mrs. O shut the door briskly. "Good morning, class! Today we're going to proceed through the unit by pairing up with our partners and drafting a written hypothesis. You're going to map out your elaborate plan for what you and your partner are going to achieve and the expected materials needed to formulate your final construction."

With her back turned to the class, Jared and his two jock-cocks used a plastic straw and wadded up salivated-on paper and stuck it in the end of the straw. They scanned the crowd to pick a target until they landed on Ethan, and followed through with their mischievous plan by hurling the spitball at the back of his neck. He reacted quickly, placing his hand on the marked skin and looking behind him to find the source, which elicited snickers and snorts and rounds of high-fives from the three boys.

Moving in synchronization, Lily and I both shot them death glares and a warning look of what was to come if they continued to harm innocent peers. Though they didn't make eye contact and continued to talk amongst themselves, I could feel the passion coming from Lily—she was protective of those she cared about. She was protective of those she deemed vulnerable—as was I.

Not too shabby for a pair that disdained one another merely four days before.

I looked over to the lonesome and degraded kid, who was continuing to wipe the saliva off of the skin of his neck. Giving him a wavering smile, I reassured him by mouthing the words "you ok" to him to which he gave me a rather frail but satisfying grin. Lily seemed pleased as if this were my first time caring about someone other than myself, but she out of all people should know that that simply wasn't true. I cared about her when no one else was around and whether or not she wanted to admit it, that had an effect on her.

"You want so bad to make me the bad guy, huh?" I asked her discreetly in a voice just above a whisper. There was slight irritability in my voice that even I had trouble waiving, but I couldn't help how I felt—no matter what I did to prove my worth, I still wasn't entirely good in her book. It wasn't like she owed me anything, but it would've been nice to get the slack I desperately deserved.

She turned to me, confused by the sudden shift in my mood. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me. Why do you do that? Why do you act so surprised when I do the right thing?"

She was silent, her pensive face her only reaction to my sudden confrontation.

"All I'm asking for is a break, Lil, but you can't give me that."

"What are you talking about?" She hissed in a whisper. "Where is this coming from?"

Mrs. O was still lecturing, her back facing us all as she marked characters down on the whiteboard.

"Nowhere important, I suppose," I grumpily huffed as my back fell flat against the back of my chair, and she gave me a raised eyebrow in pure puzzlement. I guess it did make sense that the mood shift was sudden on her end, but to me, it was festering—even more so after I returned from the Ghost Zone trip with my father. The world around me had gone mad and I was the only one who could fix it.

Weird how all of this worked out.

Lily decided to drop the topic altogether, feeling a rising and unnecessary tension come from it. It seemed like her whole demeanor shifted once my mood was deregulated. Her once light-hearted grin melted into an unenthusiastic frown. It was easy to feel that way when attacks seemed personal, but it wasn't personal towards Lily—I was just tired of feeling like the bad guy and continuously having to prove my worth to her. If I'd truly meant her harm, then I would've done so when she was out stone cold the day I met her.

Is this what it felt like for my father—he made one wrong move and all of a sudden he was the enemy to everyone?

No wonder he was so adamant about me taking over the Ghost Zone and severing the tension; we needed unification and he needed to redeem himself. It really was a two-way street.

For now, though, I had to give myself the benefit of the doubt and trust that Lily was just looking out for me. She did seem like that kind of person, after all, and even though I didn't quite know her friends yet, I trusted that she wouldn't keep the company of those untrustworthy—especially with a secret as big as hers. I just had to continue focusing and keeping my cool around them; if I let off that something is wrong, they will automatically assume something is up. I don't want that to happen; Lily already had so much on her plate.

I sighed, twiddling the pencil between my thumb and index finger. I immensely regretted putting Lily on the back burner like that; it wasn't fair to her to be discarded just because I had issues communicating.

Maybe I can try to let her in just a bit.

"I'm sorry," I whispered over to her without taking my eyes off of the dry erase board. "I didn't mean to be so curt with you… I'm just going through a lot."

"Yeah, well… when you're ready to talk about it, then I'm ready to listen."

I gave her a smile and a small "thanks" before I set my pencil down on the tabletop.

It felt good being respected and valued and… heard.

As protective as my father was, he had his faults—one of them was his lack of empathy for others. I couldn't lean on his shoulder as a child; it finally felt good to be able to.

Maybe I was lucky.

Life isn't so bad, after all.

…

Lily

I could use the girl-talk with Max; she always knew just what to say.

I didn't want to dump everything onto her, especially with what she was going through, but boys had me so confused. I didn't know what I'd said to Damien that set him off and even though he apologized, I still felt like I was the one in the wrong. As I picked supplies off of the shelves and dropped them into the cart, I vented my frustrations to her.

"I mean what gives? Why did he suddenly switch up like that?"

"Girl, who knows," she shrugged, biting in a sour Nerds rope. "Sometimes boys PMS too; you know how it is."

"It just doesn't make any sense. Do you think he would come to me if he ever needed to talk about something?"

"Judging by the fact that you guys haven't even known each other for a week yet, I'm gonna say 'no'."

I lightly scuffed, scanning the shelf for the cheapest brand of copper wire. Chem class was a mere eight-and-a-half hours ago, but I still remember the tone of voice that Damien used when he accusingly jested at me for treating him like a villain. I didn't mean to, honestly—why had he been acting so guilty?

"I just don't get," I continued on, grabbing a generic brand off of the shelf and looking it over. "I didn't mean to make him feel bad; he's so mysterious, Max. I can't figure him out."

Before she could even so much as utter a response, a couple of Latinos came down the same aisle that we occupied and gave me an intense glance before muttering amongst themselves in Spanish. They giggled as they walked past the both of us and Max's face contorted in disgust.

"Mirale el culo a ese," the taller one said.

"Cerdos repugnantes," she hissed at them. "Vete de aqui!"

They look rightfully spooked, likely because they didn't think that Max understood Spanish, and rushedly left the aisle before anything else could be exchanged.

It was moments like this that I wished I'd understood Spanish.

I cocked an eyebrow. "What did they say?"

"Don't worry about it," she shook her head and rolled her eyes. "Just chicos being estúpidos."

People undermined Max on the regular. Her blonde hair and light-colored eyes are not for the faint of heart—behind the standard of beauty, she is a full-blooded Latina. Her mother immigrated to the United States with her grandparents from Barcelona and basically, the entire family spoke Spanish. It was interesting to see her hold a conversation out in public; many Latinos mistaken her for being (what she commonly said) a gringa, and therefore spoke Spanish around her in the assumption that she didn't understand what they were saying.

Fools.

They should probably know better than to mess with a cloaked Latina.

Max was mighty feisty when she needed to be.

"What do I do, Max?"

"I'll tell you what you do," she snapped another piece of her candy into her mouth, "not a damn thing. You don't have anything to apologize for, hermosa. When he comes to terms with his feelings and learns how to communicate properly, you let him come to you. He can't expect you to read minds."

"I know, I know…" I sighed, getting behind the cart and giving it a gentle, slow push to leave the aisle. I wish I could drop the conversation altogether, but I don't want to be bothered with the thought of constant emotional pestering.

Was I really the innocent one? Or was I blinded by pure ignorance? Did I just refuse to take accountability?

"I don't know, Max," I said with an ending tone—a voice droned with somber. "Maybe I'm just being too difficult on myself."

"You are. One-hundred percent." Max crossed her arms, still holding her more than half-eaten candy in one hand as she trailed behind me. "Necesitas ser amable contigo misma—"

"Max, you know I can't understand you."

"Sorry, sorry," she jerked her head left and right. "Un habito. You need to be nice to yourself, chica. It's hard enough with your lifestyle to give yourself a much-needed break, but you can't do good all the time. The hero in you wants to, but sometimes you need to understand that making a choice means minimizing casualties, not completely eradicating them."

I nodded my head; Max always knew just what to say to cheer me up.

As we cleared out of the aisle and made our way to the self-checkout, I let our conversation really marinate in my head. I didn't typically enjoy being wrong, but I was (for once) glad that I was. Max was right—I can't play the good guy all the time and not every choice that I make will be entirely good. It definitely won't always be easy.

I needed to learn to better set myself to baseline when I felt under immense pressure. Max and AJ knew all too well that I struggled with severe generalized anxiety disorder; it's been something I'd been treated for for a long time. High-pressure situations, tension, public speaking… these were just a handful of things that tightened my chest, causing me to break out in a sweat and nearly pass out with tremors.

The two of them were always there to help me keep it together.

Overthinking was a common problem with a simple solution, though.

…

Max had just walked out of the house not even five minutes before Damien showed up at my doorstep. I told him to meet me at my house so that we could start the project early on. I offered to join Damien and just have us get the supplies together, but AJ wanted to be nice and "spend some time" with Damien—probably in a way to get to know him better.

I didn't expect to hear about it, but Damien definitely gave me a taste of it when he entered into my humble abode.

As we were taking things out of paper bags and setting them out on my bed, Damien went on and on about how AJ practically "threatened his life" when it came to my mental and emotional well-being. "Do you like her?" He'd ask; "what are you gonna do with her?" he'd continue on.

"AJ really reamed me," he stated, removing his black denim jacket and laying it out on my bed. As he did, I couldn't help but stare at his rounded-out, protruding muscles that were sure signs of a proper diet and consistent ghost fighting. His white sleeveless tank-top left very little to the imagination, and I could see why Max liked him so much.

Damien was hot.

Like… really hot.

His chiseled, broad jawline was just a fraction of his beauty compared to his high cheekbones; his dimples contoured his face when he smiled ear to ear. His shaggy, jet-black hair rested haphazardly on his head in certain places where there was obvious cowlick but was mostly flattened by a slick gel. His biceps were about half the size of my head; his corneas were hypnotic like a swinging pocket-watch before the eyes of a helpless servant.

I wouldn't say I was attracted to him, but… damn, I'd be lying if I said I wouldn't date him.

Too weird—he looked too much like me. We could almost be mistaken as siblings.

"Gross," I let out a laugh. "Max already claimed dibs on you, anyway."

"No one has 'dibs', okay?" He grinned, shaking his head.

We pulled out our plans for the project, walking over Mrs. O's instructions on forming a valid hypothesis long before the implementation of any object. We started with the name of our project, in which we simplified it to "Lemon Lamp", and gave our theories on what the process would consist of in regards to a lemon powering a bulb. After writing down all of the supplies that were to be used, we mapped out our theories starting with insight on citric acid and how it pertained to the idea of physics.

Moving on from this, we drafted out a step-by-step outline on how we would use five lemons to power a small Christmas light, which Damien managed to salvage from an old Christmas tote he'd found in his basement.

Things were going pretty solid until we shared our hypothesis with each other. Pretty soon we realized we were stuck in a rut. We couldn't seem to agree on how to proceed; not surprising considering we already butted heads in the past.

"Lil, you need two copper wires."

"No, Damien, you need one nail and one copper wire. Leave them out a little bit, then you connect the electric cables to the two—one side each."

"Why not two copper wires?"

"Why do you need two copper wires? One is made of zinc; the other is made of copper. Two copper wires will not hold a charge; to make a battery, you need a positive electrode and a negative electrode."

"Yeah, I know that—"

"Then you should know that galvanized nails are zinc-plated and because zinc loses electrons more readily than copper, it's considered a negative electrode, or an anode. Paired with a cathode, which is copper, that makes a battery."

"Well… let's just see."

"'Let's just see?' Is that your final answer?"

"Yeah. Let's just see!"

I shrugged and the two of us each grabbed a lemon and squeezed as much juice out of it as we possibly could. Getting down to the final lemon, we cleared all of the juices out of each fruit and placed them back into the bowl. I unwrapped the copper wire while Damien opened the box of zinc nails. Using a pair of wire-cutters, I snipped off a few thin strands of copper and poked one into each lemon; Damien followed suit with nails of his fingertips.

Reaching back into the paper brown bag, I pulled out the electrical wires and connected them to the corresponding positions. A slight bit of tinkering was necessary in order to jump-start the project just the way we needed to, and a few minutes of fiddling painted a pleasantly smug look onto Damien's face—a smile as if he'd won.

Damien should've known, however, that I was much smarter than people gave me credit for.

After an additional few seconds, the small Christmas-light bulb lit up causing Damien's face to fall sullen. I turned, a smirk now occupying my face as the sweet, sweet taste of victory pooled in my mouth.

"You were saying?" I questioned him cockily and he smacked his lips, puckering his bottom one out to hang stiffly.

"Whatever," he shrugged, stuffing his hands in his pockets, "I was never the greatest at chem-phys; I'm more of a biology kind-of-guy."

"So, then why aren't you taking AP biology?"

"Well, 'cause then I wouldn't get to see your beautiful face every weekday," he grinned. I gave him a light-hearted shrug and a disgusted scoff followed by body shivers while he teasingly laughed breathily. I watched as he quickly recuperated.

"You're actually gross."

"Gross in a good way?"

"Gross in a gross way."

His smile began to fade gradually, shifting his focus intently on my face. This was one thing some people did with me that I actually hated; I played like the toughest girl you'd ever meet, but deep inside I knew that I was vulnerable and I hated when other people noticed it, too. Max and AJ knew about my past, my fears, my insecurities… they knew everything about me.

They probably knew what I'd eat for dinner on a given night before I even knew.

There was something about someone like Damien knowing, though, that made me uncomfortable. I didn't display weakness in front of others because I didn't want to give them yet another tool to put in their box that they could use to tighten or loosen me up. Staring deeply into my eyes in the way that Damien was then told me that they were seeing an exposed, broken soul. I fell silent as he brought his palm up to my face and I backed away rushingly, afraid that his touch would burn my skin.

He held his hands out mercifully as he reassured me through soft features and raised eyebrows. "I'm not going to hurt you; I could never hurt you. I'm just…" he trailed, letting his fingers touch my cheeks. He poked softly at my broad features, highlighting the detailed contours of my face. It was almost as if he was… comparing?

Had he been waiting for the right time to do something like this?

I'd imagine doing it to someone you'd just met would've been too weird, but Damien and I were at a point now where I could trust that he wouldn't cause me pain, and he could express himself without coming off creepy or flirtatious.

Besides, the intent stare actually painted me a more colorful picture.

Like, very colorful.

Damien really did look like a male version of me, and that was petrifying.

"How can you and I be so similar… and yet so different?" He whispered in a tone that didn't dare disturb still waters and I sighed heavily.

He was a real heartthrob.

"I don't know," I responded back just as quietly.

His hand had gone from my cheek to my hair, taking a few strands of it in between his closed fingertips and slowly pulling away, letting them fall from his appendage. He traveled to my jawline, running his hand from back by my ear to my chin.

"Are you trying to arouse yourself or something?" I asked jokingly but crawled into myself when I didn't see a shift from his serious appearance.

"Are you?" He asked in a sultry tone.

I felt my blood run cold.

This was… weird. Not bad or creepy, but… weird. Uncomfortable.

I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but there was something very different about Damien—aside from the obvious. It was either something that he knew that he wasn't telling me, or something even he didn't know that hasn't been told to either of us.

I cleared my throat abruptly and softly took his hand away from me, stepping back and wiping my now sweaty palms on the denim of my jeans.

"Okay, enough soap opera caricatures," I gave a stifled chuckle. "Let's start prepping the poster board for the presentation."

He gave a stiff nod, his face still flushed from the likely embarrassing break from his infatuated trance.

Taking a soft yellow-colored construction cut-out board from its resting place against the wall behind my door, I laid it out flat on my bed and tried to shake the trickling feeling of driven hormones and a flailing ego.

Keep it together, Lil, I gave myself an internal mantra. Keep it together.

Though, I wasn't really sure how much longer I could…

…

Damien and I used the remainder of our time together cutting out pictures of demonstrations and typing text boxes full of bullet points before we temporarily taped them to the board for further experimentation. It was a somewhat awkward encounter throughout this, but we were quickly able to bounce back once we focused. We had just finished taping the pictures and texts to the presentation board when we decided to spend the remaining ten minutes at my house decompressing and going on about life. We talked about a variety of different things—more on his background, more on mine…

Somehow, though, we looped back around to my idiotic and borderline death-wish plan that I was bringing to fruition come the end of the week.

With arms braced in interception and palms firmly pressing against the back of his head, he watches the ceiling intently as he focuses long and hard on the questions prying at his brain before he vocalizes them.

"Do you really think this plan of yours that you've developed is going to work?"

I felt a grumble stifle in my chest, but I did my best to suppress it. It's not a personal attack against him, but I was tired of the cloud of doubt following me. If Max didn't believe in me… or AJ, and now Damien…

Was it too melodramatic to say that I was the only one who did?

I'm not sure if that was scary or saddening, but either way, it did more than disappoint.

"It has to," I responded carefully, letting the 'to' dance longingly on my tongue. Maybe the doubt was overshadowing me, too.

"Lil, it's not that I don't believe in you, but…"

"No, you don't, and neither do AJ or Max."

"Lil, that's not true." He sits up abruptly, pivoting his body slightly to lean solely on his left forearm. "You're the bravest girl that I know, and you going to the ends of both worlds to find your brother is beyond admirable… but do you really think it's worth risking your life? Your friends' lives? And what about your parents—how do you think they'd feel if something happened to you?"

"My parents are too busy moping about what could've been to focus on what is," I replied abrasively, "and that's that my brother is still missing, and rather than putting their might into finding him… they've given up… they've given up but I haven't."

"Lily, you barely knew he existed a couple of weeks ago—"

"It doesn't matter! My parents confirmed what I'd always known was true and that a huge part of my life has been hidden from me—that someone special was taken from me. If I have to go 'till my dying breath to find him and bring him home, then it will be one of the better reasons to go."

"I can't let you do something this stupid," he said flatly. Cold. Near emotionless. Authoritative.

If I'd said it once, then I'd said it to beyond infinity—I will let no one stand in my way. Not AJ. Not Max. Not my parents.

And especially not Damien.

And I wasn't sure why, but in that moment all I could feel was contempt. A chaotic brew of fury boiled in my stomach and coursed through my blood.

"Then help me," I commanded with dark eyes and furrowed expressions, "or get out of my way."

He drew back, his features painted in a way that showed pure hurt with just a hint of trauma response. I knew enough about Damien to know that he, too, lost many people he'd held dear. This was his way of preserving what was left of his humanity—I understood. I felt his pain. I really did.

But I feel my brother's call for help more—more intensely and more consistently.

I almost—almost—regretted emotionally crushing him into a trillion little pieces, but he recuperated much faster than I did. He said nothing as he dragged himself off of my bed, standing to his feet to throw on his denim jacket and drape his backpack over his shoulders. Transforming into his ghost self, he started towards my bedroom window and turned back to give me a pleading look with calming eyes.

Those eyes screeched at volumes his voice couldn't reach.

"You can't save everyone, Lil," his voice carried sternly, but gentle enough to remain sullen. "Obsessions like this are going to get you killed, and they're gonna take your loved ones right down with you. Sometimes… sometimes it's best to focus on what we do have compared to what we don't."

"Damien…" I shook my head in remorse, and despite my attempt to try to talk him out of leaving my presence my vocal cords ceased to vibrate.

He faced back towards the wall and turned intangible before taking to the skies. I sat there, dazed and confused about what was previously a neck-deep conversation that left me completely hollow. How did I get to a point in my life where I felt as if I needed to sacrifice my friendship and the built, albeit weakened trust that I had with my family for the closure of knowing my long-lost brother was still alive?

I didn't need this; I didn't want this.

The only thing that's left of me now that I can truly hold onto is my brother.

Come rain or shine, life or death, alone or accompanied—I will do whatever it takes to find him.

…

Alright, y'all. I'm stopping this story temporarily; it's getting fewer reviews than I thought it would and I don't want to talk to dead air. We will see how this story plays out if it gets more hype. This will give me some time to change up the brainstorming ideas for it I have jotted down so.

Thanks for those that actually do read and review, though! I appreciate you all!