A/N : Hey, peeps! I'm here with another chapter. Please vote & comment if you like it <3 Happy reading!

PLAYLIST : Who - Zayn Malik

     There was a knock on my bedroom door followed by my mom's voice. "Honey, are you still awake?"

     "Hey mom, come in." I sat on my bed and put down my phone which I was staring at for a long time, willing it to ring.

     "I saw the lights on," she said. "So came to check on you." I scooted over, to let my mom sit beside me.

     "Yeah, I was waiting for a friend's call, I guess."

     "Why don't you call the friend?"

     I deliberated over that. I didn't know that Derek would call, I was just hoping he would. And honestly, him not calling would work out fine too. I'd have nothing to confess tonight. "I don't know."

     Her eyes twinkled with amusement. "You know, we didn't have a long talk in a while. What's going on with you? How's school? And who's this friend?" She emphasized on the word friend.

     "Mom," I said. "Can I ask you something?"

     "Ask away."

     "I did something mean to my friend, unintentionally. He doesn't know it was me and he's angry at whoever's done it. That thing could've turned bad for him, but it didn't. Should I tell him that it was me?"

     "Hm, Vivian. You should always tell the truth."

     "But he's going to hate me if I do," I explained with a sullen expression. "What I did had bad consequences for him."

     "You didn't do it intentionally. And anyone who knows my daughter would know that she'd never do anything bad to any person."

     I felt embarrassed listening to that. I did do bitchy stuff. "Mom," I drawled. "Don't sugar coat." And I didn't think that's how Derek saw me.

     "You know what?" my mom said. "You can take your time to tell him. But you gotta do it before he hears a twisted version of the truth from someone else. You're the only one who'd tell him the truth. He deserves that."

     I didn't have to worry about that, because no one else would tell him. But, she was still right. "You're right. I should tell him. Thanks, mom."

     She smiled. "Okay, now get some sleep. It's late."

     "Night, mom."

     The door closed and my mom's footsteps receded down the stairs. Okay, so I have to do this. I decided I'm going to tell him. He'd be angry, I knew that. But eventually he'd understand that I made a mistake.

     Now how do I initiate the conversation about the diary? I didn't know how to go about it. Whenever I started talking about it, Derek steered the conversation to another topic. He doesn't let me talk and I somehow follow his lead. I start somewhere else and end up talking about something else.

     Ugh, I'm terrible at this. He hates talking about this. I can't do this. Maybe I'll talk to him tomorrow in school. Yep, it'd be better if I'm standing in front of him. Nuh, uh, I'd just roll into a ball and die if I had to look at his face while I own up to what I did.

     I was still over analyzing every possibility when my phone rang. Oh, shit! It had to be Derek. I looked at the screen.

     Yes, it was him. Now I'd have to tell him right now. I groaned loudly.

     "Hey, Derek," I answered.

     "Hey, how was your day?" His voice sounded so full of energy that I almost changed my mind about telling him about the diary.

     "It was good."

     "No rabbit poop today?"

     "Ah, no. Rabbits are banned from my house now."

     He laughed and I felt butterflies in my stomach. "Good for you."

     Before I got distracted again and changed the topic, I had to tell him. I shifted uncomfortably on my bed. "Derek, listen. I have to tell you something. It's . . . important."

     "What's it about?"

     Here goes nothing. Mustering up all my courage, I said, "About . . . Suzy's diary."

     There, I said it. Now I can't go back.

     "I told you I don't want to talk about it." His voice was even, signaling the end of any further conversation.

     "But this is important. I can't stall this anymore."

     "Just let it go."

     "No," I said softly. "I shouldn't."

     The line was silent. Just when I was wondering if he'd say anything, he began, "Okay, Vivian. Here's the thing. My life's fucked up. Every word of what Suzy wrote is true. I don't like how my family is. So I try to stay away from it. I just want to block it out. That's why I don't talk about it. There's nothing to talk about. Nothing." He cleared his throat. I could see how uncomfortable he felt talking about it.

     ". . . Guess not," I said quietly.

     "This is what you wanted to know right? Are you done?" He sounded exhausted.

     "That wasn't what I was trying to do."

     "Then what was it?"

     "Never mind. Maybe you'll find out another day. Can I ask you something?"

     "You might as well."

     "How does Suzy know everything if you never talk about it?"

     "She knows because she's sneaky."

     "What does that mean?" I asked in confusion.

     "Uh. . . When my mom left, she wrote me a letter. About, uh, everything. The letter was all I had left of her. We don't talk now because, uh, we have some issues. But I still held on to the letter because that was all I had from my mom.

     I always had it with me. I noticed one day that it was gone. I thought I had lost it. But then, Suzy found it and returned it to me the next day. She told me I'd dropped it. Looks like she had a peek in before giving it back."

     "Oh my god," I said outraged. "You can't just read other people's letters." Or diaries, a tiny voice in my head told me.

     My subconscious wasn't helping me in any way. All she wanted to do was find faults with me. Shut up now. I'm going to tell him the truth! Stop guilt-tripping me! I scolded her.

     "And she went and wrote it in her diary. Whatever she wrote, she got it from the letter." He sounded deeply resentful.

     "Gosh! That's what happened?"

     "Yep."

     I never knew this part of Derek. I felt guilty for making him remember all that he went through. I wanted to comfort him but I didn't know how. "Derek, I'm so sorry."

     "Don't be. Nothing you can do about it."

     "No," I admitted. "I wish I could say something to help you. To comfort you. But I'm just not capable of that."

     "Well, the thought counts."

     "I'm making this worse. Poking into things that don't concern me."

     "Don't say that. This is actually good, you know. I never talked about this stuff before. It feels good to have someone listen to me. It's, how do I say it . . . liberating."

     "Really?"

     "Yeah, really."

     I calmed. "That works out. I'm great at listening to people. The talking part. . . not so much. We're gonna be great together."

     He laughed and I realized what I just said.

     "No, no. I didn't mean you and me together. Like dating together. I just meant these talks we have. Us, together, every night."

     It still sounded wrong, probably worse. Something was seriously wrong with me. "No, it came out wrong. All I'm trying to say is that you talk. And now, I'm just going to shut up because I finally realized why I don't talk much. Because all I say turns up into a mess. Hello? Are you there?"

     "Oh, yes. I'm listening to you talk." His voice was laced with amusement and I groaned inwardly.

     "Ah, I know what I did there. I contradicted myself. The thing is, I don't talk much and when I do, I end up saying the wrong things which totally embarrass me. And then, I embarrass myself even more trying to explain what I originally intended to say. So I'm shutting up for good this time."

     Everything I said was only making him laugh even more. I was making a fool of myself in front of Derek. Something in me told me it was okay. That I can be myself with Derek.

     "You're crazy, Vivian," he said between his bursts of laughter. "You don't even have to explain the meaning behind everything you say. I understand you."

     I didn't know where he was right now, but in my mind I had a vivid picture of him sitting down somewhere like on a couch, with an arm resting behind his head and chuckling at every silly thing I said. "That's nice of you to say. Although, I'm not sure you really mean it."

     "Do people always share their secrets with you?" he asked.

     "A lot of people do, yes."

     "Why do you think that is?"

     "Maybe because I'm a good listener. Also, I don't write a diary."

     "Wow, that's an added bonus. I really feel lucky now," he teased.

     I suddenly remembered an incident from school. It was a long shot, but maybe this was the explanation. "Hey, speaking of diary, I remembered something. Do you still keep that letter with you?"

     "I do."

     "Like in a book?"

     "As a matter of fact, yes I do. How do you know that?"

     I knew it! "Is that why you freaked out when I took your Calculus notes in class one day? Because you had the letter in it?!"

     He was silent for a minute, probably wondering what I'm talking about. It was more than a month ago. "Damn! I didn't even remember that. You're right. That was it." He laughed.

     I chuckled with him. "And I was wondering till today what had gotten into you."

     "I bet I freaked you out. You must've thought I was a dickhead."

     "I did!"

     "I get that a lot and it's always a pleasure to hear that. Anyway, I'm sorry. I didn't want to lose that letter again and have anyone else read it."

     "And then you came waltzing in your car, threatening me."

     "That's what it looked like? Oh boy, I just wanted to catch you off guard. It was like 'surprise, I know it was you.' Coupled with the classroom incident, you probably hated me."

     "That's right."

     "Ha." He let out a small laugh. "I hope you change your opinion now that I clarified stuff."

     "I'll think about it."

     "Well, take your time ma'am. I ain't going nowhere." Did my phone make Derek's voice sound better or was it the silent night that was doing the trick? Whatever it was, his voice sounded sexier than it already was.

     I laughed. "No, you're not. Good night, Derek."

     "Night, Vivian."

     Only after I hung up, I realized that I didn't do what I intended to do. I got him to talk about stuff that he wasn't comfortable talking about. I brought back memories of his mom that he wanted to forget.

     How can I tell him now? I can't bring it up again. I knew how much it hurt him to talk about it. I don't think I'd ever be able to tell him.

A/N : Thank you for reading! Feedback please, I need to know how I'm doing. So that I can make future chapters better :) xoxo

# Would you rather spend a year in a psychiatric hospital or a year in jail? Lol, I'm running out of wyr questions 😂