"See you later!" Anastasia puts up another smile, nodding to her colleagues before exiting the locker room.

As soon as the door closes, her smile falls down. Her cheeks are aching by dint of plastering the same forced smile on her lips for two days. It isn't that she has had to do it a lot, but it seems to require her an insurmountable effort to just lift the corners of her mouth since she has last seen Nathaniel, her ex-friend – she doesn't know how to call him. Maybe she should call him Captain Johnson, yet she can't.

She has forced smiles right after he has left, and has dispelled tears when she has explained the donations of a generous donor to the other volunteers. She has offered this fake smile to anyone who would ask her how she is because she can't explain the reasons for her dull and tense mood, and she will plaster on the same painful smile tonight for her date with Fergus.

Luckily, she has got a break yesterday. Her overfilled and pressured brain has been busy with a full day of exams, not leaving much room for guilt, worries, and lonely feelings.

But right now, back in the Army Center, her mind has all the time and space to fill her stomach with tight knots and heavy weights. Though, no matter how many times she repeats herself that she is being ridiculous, and even if it is for the right reasons, the final nature of their decision is leaving an empty hole in her chest that might be surpassing the guilt, shame, and fear that they have broken the law again.

Can they really not be friends? A small hopeful voice resonates in this hole. However, all the flashbacks of every encounter they have had, of all the times they have crossed the lines or neared them are there to stifle this faint voice, and also remind her how dangerous and wrong this has been.

Breaking the law, why this idea keeps lingering in her mind? She widens her eyes as she realizes the path of her thoughts, and she notices that she has stopped walking. So she rushes through the hallways, almost running to start her work, or maybe just to escape her thoughts.

It all comes to a stop when she bumps into a hard chest, and her breath is knocked out, but not from the impact, from the gaze she meets when she looks up.

"S-sorry," she stutters at the same time as Nate.

He reaches his hand before retracting, remembering their agreement as his lips are itching to ask her if she is alright, especially when he catches the shadows under her eyes and her tense features. 

Yet he isn't allowed to care. So he keeps the questions inside like everything constricting his chest as they share a stare for a second, full of too many emotions and memories for two strangers.

In spite of the crushing sensations in his ribcage, Nate is the one to snap out of it – surely right before his lungs would have given out – as his reason is reminding him that if he gazes too long in these warm autumnal shades, he forgets everything.

Acting as two strangers – since they can't be friends or anything else – they both resume their rush, avoiding each other, except that their bodies recognize they're no strangers, and they bump into each other again as she goes left and he goes right; he goes left and she goes right, mirroring each other. Their bodies, like two magnets attracted to each other, don't let them get away.

"Err..." She lets an uneasy laugh under her breath, which sounds too much like a faraway echo inside his tight chest, when two days ago they've formed one, and he instinctively leans closer when she opens her mouth to speak.

Yet a loud siren cuts her off and makes her jump back, accentuating painfully the distance between them, while the deafening and familiar sound is already taking his thoughts too far. His heart picks up its pace inside the vise grip of his ribcage, and when he looks down at his vibrating phone, there's no doubt: 'Code 5'. 

He swallows the nerves building up in his throat and lets his trained reflexes take over, sliding his phone back in his pocket and putting his muscles into movement. 

Though in the rush happening everywhere around and inside him, he still slows down in front of Anastasia's wide eyes and worried frown to gently brush her arm.

"I have to go, it's an emergency." His voice is so smooth, such a contrast with the ear-splitting sound resonating around, and she can only nod, speechless and breathless.

She doesn't have time to say anything, and she regrets not telling him to be careful as soon as he is walking away. Yet maybe they don't need words, as he still glances quickly behind him, and while his gaze is reassuring and confident, in hers, he can see the fear crossing the hazel shades.

What he doesn't see though, is that after he disappears at the end of the hallway, the dread isn't only in her eyes, but in her whole body, spreading with the shrilling siren and swallowing all the guilt, loneliness, and any other worry she has had minutes ago. All that is left is a bad feeling taking over her stomach, and every painful bang of her heart trying to run after Nathaniel.

The siren finally stops after what feels like an eternity, and it's only then that she is pulled out of her frozen state. She still isn't breathing, yet it allows her brain to think a little bit more clearly. Though the quietness is far from coming back around, as soldiers are rushing in every direction with helmets, masks, and other gear she can't name but that doesn't help her find her breath, and the air is even more electric with all the other employees gathering and gossiping about what is happening.

She spots Vera among them, and her feet are instinctively put into motion in the direction of her colleague, who probably knows what this is all about. Vera knows about everything, or almost everything.

Indeed, Anastasia has been right because as soon as she approaches her, she doesn't have to ask; Vera addresses her, "Do you know about the attack?!"

Anastasia's gaping expression gives her the answer, so Vera eagerly continues, "The siren, it was because the rebels organized an attack on a campus – Oh my god! Is it your campus?! At which college are you studying?! It's at the Westview University!"

Anastasia is staring at her, paralyzed, though, in her brain, her thoughts are resembling a lot Vera's frantic rambling. Between all the unsettling emotions she has felt in the last two days and now the shocking emergency setting her heart in an erratic pace of worry, it is getting a little too much, and all the information and emotions are colliding in her usually ordered brain.

She doesn't even know how she manages to reply, "Um, no, I study at the UNIT College." She shakes her head as if it could put some order or connect something there. "But... What... What happened exactly?"

"They don't know exactly. There was a big event, apparently with lots of people, and the rebels put several bombs and unquenchable fire propellers–"

"Look, it's on the news!" Lauren, another of their colleagues joins, pointing to the computer screen a secretary has just switched on with the news broadcast, and the blow of the explosion knocks the rest of Anastasia's breath the second her gaze lands on the screen.

Immense clouds of flames are appearing on the video, and the foundations of the wide buildings are almost indistinguishable under the blur of bright red, sparkling yellow, and opaque gray. The fire is taking over everything, consuming, bursting, and springing in more sparks, so much that Anastasia can feel the stings of burn on her skin as if the flames were reaching through the screen.

The red inferno disappears to give way to wide-eyed reporters, yet the images stay imprinted deep inside Anastasia as she tries to focus on what they are saying. Unfortunately, the reporters on site seem to know hardly more than Vera. They just announce the important number of people who have been there for a big interschool event and how the flames are out of control in the big buildings where many people are still stuck.

And Nathaniel is running there, like a hero throwing himself into this death trap, because that's what it looks like from the videos on the screen: flames, smoke, collapses... Her chest is constricting more and more as the images are flashing, taking up from her guts until her throat in a sour crushing, and inside this vise, her heart is breaking for all these people dying there. 

This could have been on her campus, people she knows, her schoolmates, even if she barely knows them. This cruelty is disgusting. These innocent young lives taken away, they have done nothing to deserve this. They have just been there to learn and build their futures.

"But... why did they target students?" Her logical brain can't help trying to comprehend everything, maybe trying to hold onto some familiar order in the chaos, the same way her trembling fingers are clutching her scale pendant.

However, her question is left unanswered as a supervisor passes by. 

"The soldiers are doing their work. How about you go back to yours?" This is clearly not a question, and his cold order immediately disperses the small group.

Anastasia once more watches everyone rushing around, and she forces herself to move and give another small rictus under Vera's worried gaze. Yet it tears on all her muscles for just those simple movements.

For her, it is so appalling to go on with their tasks as if nothing is happening while people are dying, and soldiers are risking their lives. She can't work properly, especially with her hands shaking so much, and she has never felt as useless as right now pushing a cleaning cart and dusting already clean shelves.

But this job will allow her to study and maybe one day become a lawyer, and then, she will be useful. She will make sure those evil people get punished. It is with this determination that she puts her headphones on and tries the best she can to focus on her lessons.

***

Anastasia jumps on her phone at the first small, almost imperceptible, vibration of the device in her bag.

'Tomorrow you take me to the selections at 9 a.m.'

Archie's 'sweet' text reminds her that she is still at his mercy. However, there are already too many knots from her stomach to brain for her to mind it, and the heavy sigh she lets out has nothing to do with this message as her shaky fingers are already sliding through her contact history.

No other text, no reply to her texts, and no news after her unanswered calls. She knows she shouldn't expect replies from a 'stranger'. She shouldn't have texted or called Nathaniel after their decision, but those are exceptional circumstances; at least, that's justification she has repeated to herself every time she has pressed the call button next to the ID contact she should have deleted.

From the news, which she has last checked five minutes ago, some buildings are still on fire and the number of deaths and casualties keeps increasing. 

She hasn't seen Nathaniel come back from his mission when she has still been at the Army center, and he is still probably on the scene of this deadly trap. Yet how is he doing? This question is throbbing and resonating in every knot from her guts to her brain, and especially in the middle of her tight chest.

She fears so much for the life of this 'stranger'. But he isn't a simple stranger. He will never be. She wouldn't be worried sick like that otherwise, and even though she has claimed she has been affected and concerned for everyone in this tragedy – which is true – in her mind, only dreadful images of Nathaniel in the flames keep flashing.

"Are you okay?" Fergus's forehead creases in front of her restless and tense gestures, surely noticing that the squeaking sounds of her chair are filling the silence more than her words.

"Yeah, it was just Archie asking me to take him to his baseball selections."

She is relieved that for once she doesn't have to lie. She doesn't know if she would have the energy anyway.

"Oh, baseball?! I won the championship when I was captain of my team in high school! If he ever needs tips..."

The word 'captain' immediately brings her back to Nathaniel, and she has to blink the flashes away before the smoke can suffocate her.

"Are you sure you're okay? You seem a little on edge," Fergus asks as she shifts anxiously on her seat.

'A little on edge', that is a euphemism. She has to literally sit on her hands to stop herself from checking her phone again, and her legs are restlessly aching, as if they knew how much she wants to run to the scene of the fire. 

If it was just up to her, she probably would already be there. But the access is forbidden to the public, and she has no reason to be desperately worrying and asking news of the married Captain Johnson.

Nevertheless, sitting here at their usual table in the Cloak Cafe in those circumstances feels so wrong. It is Fergus who has insisted that they maintain their date to 'not let the rebels win with fear', according to him, and everyone seems to agree with his view as everything goes on like nothing is happening. Yet Anastasia can't understand this. 

How can everyone carry on with their lives while others' are being taken away? She has questioned this when she has seen her colleagues going back to work as if the deafening siren wasn't still resonating in their heads, and then, in the subway, where people have been watching the news on their phones while still discussing their weekend plans. 

It appears even more disturbing here, with all the regular customers sipping their drinks like every day, and as she turns to Fergus's casual smile, she could almost believe she has imagined it and she is going crazy. But no, the flames she has glimpsed have been too real, still burning her inside, and it is this world that appears crazy when those shocking events can be so easily overlooked.

"No, it's just that this attack affected me, and I'm tired because of my full day of exams yesterday..." The words are barely out of her mouth that she wishes to swallow them back, as she has just provided arguments for Fergus's constant plea.

She blames the restless worry for this careless rookie mistake, and judging by the glint in Fergus's eyes, it hasn't fallen on deaf ears. He is already opening his mouth when Sienna appears with their drinks on her tray, and it is probably the first time today that Anastasia's eyes brighten, even if faintly, as her friend comes up as a savior with distractions in her hands to spare her from a never-ending debate.

However, this doesn't stop Fergus, who, after taking a gulp of his shake, speaks up, "You see, I told you it's too much for you. I don't understand why you keep going to college. And now it's dangerous!"

Her words clearly haven't fallen on deaf ears, and listening to him declaiming his arguments, she can really notice the 98% of compatibility. He is as determined as her to prove his point. Yet she doesn't have the strength to fight back right now, and the creaking noise of her chair is the only reply he gets as he continues to defend his point of view.

She has no doubt his plea is strong and well-grounded, though she doesn't hear it as she takes a sip of her Underground shake, or more exactly, she plays mindlessly with her straw to occupy her hands, as her favorite drink is turning her stomach.

Even this place that always brings her comfort in a strange way doesn't manage to loosen the tight pressure inside her chest, and the quietness that usually helps her to put her thoughts into order, only blur them more as she keeps hearing the news reports in the back of her mind, along with a familiar and faraway voice 'I have to go, it's an emergency'. 

All the beautiful and unique decorations can't erase the soft chocolate shades, and the recyclate materials appear so cold and dull today. It isn't better when she looks back in Fergus's eyes, and she finds they're missing a softness that would warm her up and ease a little her anxiety.

Do you think Nate will be okay? And what do you think of those rebels' attacks?

Let me know in the comments and vote if you liked this chapter ❤

I want to thank you again for all your sweet support and feedback! This means so much to me, and when I doubt (which is happening really often) you're my biggest motivation, well you are my little rays of sunshine 🌞😘❤