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It is three more days of waking up to her before she actually leaves.
It was an experience, you tell yourself. Having the big and the bad Faye Chamberlain in your bed for three days with a nasty cold, grieving for her late grandfather, cuddling up to you while wearing your clothes. There had been a few times of drawn out streaming tears and body wracking sobs that ended in her falling asleep on your shoulder. When she was pushing you away desperately, it usually started from a nightmare, screaming for you to leave her alone, but you flat out refused until she woke up.
"It's okay," you would chant, clinging, almost hoping if you chanted long enough some magic would spark and her pain would go away instantaneously.
In the mornings, she would wake up slowly and apologise for keeping you up all night, spotting the growing bags under your eyes. You brush it off and sink into the covers a little further. They were a drug, these sleepless nights you found yourself having.
No, it wasn't the sleepless nights; it was what you found yourself doing during the night, watching her, watching over her. She was the drug and you were hooked and it scared you how easily you found yourself forgetting about the boy you loved for four years.
You felt so proud for being the one that could calm her down, send her off to sleep, to be the one she had become so comfortable around to the point where you were always attached one way or another.
You had spent the passing days playing hooky and avoiding phone calls and text messages from the circle, and her mother because this little world had been created in your room, for just the two of you, was better than the reality outside the four walls. There was a little magic performed, but nothing to heavy that it would start a heated debate about power. Just spells small enough to keep her distracted, and focused on you.
She even smiled once or twice and something swelled inside of you.
You were standing in the middle of your room, rather close, palms and fingers almost toughing. Sparks, blue lightning bolts zipped between the tips of your fingers, connecting the two of you for a quick moment before she broke the surge out of shock.
It was lucky because your father walked in and announced her mother's arrival, and that's when you realised the time and how hungry you were and how much it was going to suck not being able to wake up to her anymore.
When she hugged you and shrugged off her mother on the way to the car, your eyes followed them until they disappeared around the corner. Faye had actually thanked you for something, before leaving you to dine alone with your dad instead of in your room with her. Something was missing, and it didn't quite feel right.
You didn't like it one bit, but you swallowed it anyway and smiled through a meal with your father, casually joining in on mindless chit chat automatically. You couldn't focus properly. That's when you came to understand withdrawal symptoms first hand and excused yourself from the table.
You needed another fix. And soon.
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