"I hate them so much," I gritted, taking a seat beside Jake. The words came out as a surprise for me, and I felt the same burn in my heart. The way Brinda's body spasmed with pain as Jake carried her down the stairs of the Retirement home had started the fire. She had a seizure when she somehow got hold of her son's childhood picture from an old trunk. Hatred was what I felt for the ones who were responsible for her son's demise. That hatred only set its root deep in my heart every time her body convulsed in my hold and the way Jake's face twisted as she cried in agony.

The whole ride to the hospital was full of nerve-wrenching helplessness. It was even more excruciating to see that Brinda wasn't the only one suffering. Jake was pretty shaken up too. Even when we brought her to the hospital and she was under immediate attention from the medical staff, he didn't regain his calm. His forehead glistered with cold sweat, and his entire body was trembling when I held his hand. He momentarily stopped pacing across the hallway outside Brinda's room when I ran my hands through his tense shoulders.

Maybe that was also one of the reasons for the fire in my chest. But the moment I said those words, Jake's body went rigid. His dark eyes reflected a spiral of emotions, pain, disappointment, and something I couldn't grab at that instant. He pulled himself out of my hold, maintaining that intense gaze with me.

"You hate them?" Jake's voice was deep but shaky. He possibly felt more anguish than me. He might be good at hiding, but I read it all over his face how much troubled his soul was at that moment. That's what I thought.

"Of course, I hate them a lot. Because of their recklessness, a mother lost her son, and look where they got her. I'm sure they must be enjoying their lavish lifestyle while Brinda has to go through this pain every day." I spat, crossing my arms across my chest. "Don't you hate them too? You seem closer to her, and given the bond you two share, it must be hard not to feel like I'm feeling right now."

He didn't say anything, but his jaw locked, and his eyes turned a shade deeper. "I hate them too, Amy," he squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. His eyes were tear-soaked when they met mine. He laughed through his tears. "I hate the person more than anyone could imagine. I loath him with all my heart."

The next second, his tensed back faced me, shutting me out. I was about to place my hand over his shoulder, but he turned towards me almost immediately. "I will drop you back to the apartment."

"What about you?" I asked but didn't receive a response. By the time I could register his snappy behavior, he was already halfway down the corridor. There was certainly something going on in his mind, something I knew wasn't pretty. I had known him enough to envisage his grimaces. I followed him nonetheless.

The ride back to his apartment was quiet. Jake held the steering a little too tightly. I could feel the coldness in his aura as if he had put on some blanket around his whole existence. Suddenly, Jake felt too far away to reach. I knew he was hiding so many emotions underneath his undulating façade. His eyes were no more showing any other emotion other than agitation.

As soon as we reached the high rise, he shut off the engine almost mechanically, still maintaining his icy cold composer. He was waiting for me to step out but hadn't said a word. Very carefully and in a calculative way, I placed my hand over his knuckles, rubbing them softly. But like all the other times, he didn't relax under my touch. Instead, he tensed some more. His eyes flickered towards our connected hands for one second before he pulled his hand out of my grasp.

"Go upstairs, Amy," he said in a voice devoid of all emotions. "Get some sleep, and don't forget to lock the door."

I watched him in confusion. The guy had earnest mental issues. He either behaved too good to be true or too rude to be dead. I wanted to snap at him, but I was too drained to handle his mood swings. "And where exactly are you going?"

"I don't know," he deadpanned, rubbing a hand through his forehead. "I guess I'll go back to the hospital."

Somehow, his cold response twisted my stomach. He seemed too exhausted and tired to be going anywhere other than his bed. I opened my mouth to counter but closed it the moment his charcoal eyes snapped in my direction.

"Please, Amy," he said, defeated. "I don't want you to mess up your presentation tomorrow. Go, take some rest. I will be back in a few."

I wanted to argue over it, but the rigidness in his eyes beat me up.

"Suit yourself." I snapped, getting out of the car and shutting it with a thud. The images of an earlier encounter with Brinda flashes in my mind, giving me a taste of Jake's feeling. He certainly needed time to get over it. And obviously, I wasn't his magical wand for all his problems. I heard his car revving out of the parking as I stepped into the elevator.

Something was bothering Jake, but as usual, he didn't let it burden me more than I already was.

~~~

Although I had decided to wait for Jake to return, my body and mind gave up. I ended up sleeping with a book on my chest. A little while later, after dozing off for a fair amount of time, I woke up disarrayed. I checked the time groggily, and a frown appeared on my face. It was 3 a.m. Jake should have been back by then.

I got up, pulling the sheets away, and went in search of him. To my relief, he was home. I found him sleeping on the sofa. He was still wearing the same clothes, his black hair sprawled over his forehead, and his muscular body curled up like a small child seeking a comfortable position to sleep. The frowns on his forehead were enough to indicate how unsettled his mind was even in his slumber. I headed towards the thermostat dial, adjusting the temperature in the room before rushing back inside the room for a blanket.

Under the dim lights, I couldn't see him earlier, but as I covered him with the warm blanket, the frowns on his forehead were clear. Even under the low temperature of the room, he was sweating. I brushed away some sweaty curls from his forehead and placed a gentle kiss, making sure not to wake him up. There were so many unsetting things going on in his mind, only if I could reach out to them. I could feel it, and that's all I could do. He was about to bear his heart to me, and once again, luck wasn't on my side.

Taking a deep sigh, I headed towards the kitchen for a glass of water. I had barely been able to open the refrigerator when Jake's whimpers pulled my attention back to him. I went back to him and kneeled beside him. Pearly tears flowed down the corners of his eyes as he sniffed, holding on to the corners of his blanket. I studied his face in confusion, and my heart tightened with how broken he looked.

"Don't leave me, please!" his lips quivered as he mumbled in his sleep. He screwed his eyes tightly, and tears kept rolling down from them.

"Jacob, I'm right here," I whispered gently, even though I wasn't sure if he meant those words for me or not. I scooted a little closer towards his face wiping away the tears from his eyes. He placed his hand over mine, sifted his fingers through mine, and brought them down to his chest. He held our entwined hands just over his hammering heart, anchoring them there. That's when my eyes fell on his bloodied knuckles. My heart thudded wildly inside my chest as I leaned closer and kissed them lightly. Tears pooled in my eyes for the wounds I saw and also for the ones he was hiding.

I untangled my hand from his hold somehow and rushed to the bathroom, where I had spotted the first aid kit. When I returned, he was shaking, covered in sweat and tears. I dropped back to my knees near him and took hold of his wounded hand. Why did he keep hurting himself? Didn't he know that his pain kept seeping into my skin too? He stiffened in his sleep as I cleaned his bruised knuckles and bandaged them. I kissed both of his hands and was about to get up as he wrapped his hands around mine, pulling me back to his chest.

"Please don't hate me, Amy," he whimpered. I didn't know why he presumed I would hate him, but his words surely melted my heart. I settled myself on the floor beside the couch and buried my head on his heart. I felt him relaxing the moment my heat transferred to his cold skin.

"I'll never hate you, love," I mumbled, running soothing circles over his wounded knuckles as we both fell asleep.

~~~

A few hours later, I woke up to find myself sleeping on the couch wrapped in the blanket. Jake's smell was still fresh in the fabric as I yawned and pulled myself off my sleepy state. I could hear water running in the guest room, which meant he was in the shower.

Heaving a deep sigh, I shuffled towards the other room where all my things were and headed straight to the shower. The warm water didn't seem to be much relief after a crazy night. And all the overwhelming moments I had with Jake only a few hours before. Lack of sleep made my eyes sore, and I prayed for enough energy to give the presentation. The sudden change in Jake's behavior gave me a headache, not that I could blame him. He might be worried about Brinda. I was pretty upset myself. I just wished that he was out of that mood when I met him after getting ready for college.

When did my lucky stars ever stay by my side because Jake was still brooding when I went to the living room. He stood dressed in a fresh set of black tee and blue jeans, simple yet attractive. I smiled at him even though he was busy plating the pancakes. Soon my smile turned into a frown as I saw the bandage missing from his knuckles.

"Why did you remove the bandages from your hand?" I asked, crossing my arm across my chest.

He didn't look but instead engrossed himself in pouring out the orange juice. After he set up the breakfast, he finally gave me a flat answer. "It soaked in the shower."

"Of course," I rolled my eyes, rounding the counter, and walked up to him. "I will put some fresh bandages."

"Eat, Amy. We're running late for the first class if you want to visit your dorm before that." He said, passing the plate towards me. I needed a change of clothes for the day, so I didn't argue with him about that. I could still see the coldness in his guarded presence. When I kept staring at him, he picked up a spoonful of pancakes to my lips and gestured me very calmly to eat.

"How did you hurt your hands?" I queried, searching his eyes for answers. "Did you punch the wall again? How many times?"

"Can we not talk about it now? Let's eat first, and no, I didn't punch the wall. I went to the gym for practice. I have to fight this weekend, remember?" He groaned, running his bruised hand over his hair.

"Ever used boxing gloves while punching people or the punching bag." I scoffed, taking few sips from the juice, and placed the half-empty glass on the counter.

"Yes, but who said I want to protect myself from pain." His eyes once again reflected the flashes of hurt, but he concealed with a casual shrug. He drank remaining of the orange juice from my glass, a habit he had developed recently. Without giving me the time to enquire him further, he collected my backpack and handed it over to me. "Get going if you want to give that presentation of yours. It's not mathematics that I can assure you. It's literature, your thing alone."

"Give me a second," I said and went to the room to grab some antiseptic along with a roll of bandage before rushing back. Jake was indeed right. Literature was the only subject we didn't have in common. So most definitely, I had to handle it alone. Maybe, it was better to give him some time to settle whatever emotional turmoil he was going through.

He was standing by the door when I got back, his busted knuckles gripping the doorframe for support. I could see the tiredness in his eyes and restlessness all over his face. I so wanted to wrap my arms around him and take away some of his anxious thoughts, only that he wasn't willing to share.

"You never give up, do you?" He shook his head with a half-hearted laugh as we locked the door and headed towards the elevator.

"Never," I grinned at him, relishing his smile, which I had been missing with my life.

Even if it was brief and unconnected, it was enough that I could bring a smile to his lips.