Unknown: Hey, can we talk?

I try to blink the sleep out of my eyes as well as I can. It's either really early in the morning or really late in the evening, based on the multiple colors in the sky and the amount of light escaping from behind my curtains. 

Besides the small stream of light coming through the window, my room is dark and silent. I take time to become aware of my surroundings. Somewhere, in the back of my mind, I know I have to answer the random text, but I decide it can wait.

Hitched breathing sounds next to me. I startle and try to get away, only to see it's Flynn. He's passed out next to me, on top of my two (?) blankets and with drool on his chin. I wipe it away with a napkin, very gently to not wake him. 

As I try to remember how I got here and what Flynn and the extra blanket are doing in my bed, the door of my bedroom opens. I look up, glad my head isn't too heavy anymore to do soon.

Eliot is glancing through the small gap. I wave him over. I'm awake now anyways. With a surprised face, he opens the door fully and sits down next to me. "I thought you would never wake up."

My eyes narrow in suspicion. "What do you mean? I'm not allowed to sleep?"

He nervously chuckles. "Oh, you are, but after you passed out in the restroom and slept for almost two days, we got a little worried." 

With wide eyes and a feeling of panic welling up in my chest, I grab my phone and look at the date. Then I look at the message and the date of it. 

Two days ago.

"Oh my God," I whisper, remembering all the assignments and tests and lost attendances. Horror tremors through me. "No."

With a sympathetic look, Eliot lays a hand on my back. "Don't you worry, please. Coach called the head's office and everything is taken care of. All you have to do is get better now."

"But—"

"No," he warns. 

"But wha—"

"No, Jake."

"What abou—"

"Do I have to repeat myself? No. Here, I brought some hot chocolate milk and there'll be toast in the kitchen after your extra powernap. For now, wake up Flynn and tell him you're okay. That dude is worried sick and hasn't left your side for a minute."

Realizing there's no way he'll let me go to or even work for school, I fall back onto my pillow and turn on my side. Flynn's deep asleep next to me, dark circles underneath his eyes. "Did he stay up all night for me?"

Eliot nods, standing up to leave again. "Yeah. He didn't even party this weekend. And you know it's serious when he doesn't."

With a little smile, I tap his cheek until he wakes up. With a groan, he finally does and curls up. ". . . What?"

"It's me, Jake," I whisper, having him open his eyes. The obvious and immediate relief in his eyes is enough to make me feel less bad about the missed classes. "Are you okay? God, Jake, you just—you—I couldn't catch you and—"

I put my fingers against his lips, stopping his ramble. "I'm doing alright. A little freaked out that I slept this long, but alright. You were right all this time, I shouldn't have stepped onto the ice while I was sick. But I'm okay now."

His eyes roam over my face, but I'm truly speaking the truth. With a sigh, he rests his head on the mattress again. "You scared me so much. I thought you had a brain injury or something. Shit, I'm so glad you're okay."

I give him a pat on the head. "I'm a tough one to crack. It was just the combination of a cold and all the missed sleep getting back at me. Maybe you're right about that, too, and maybe I do need to sleep more."

Except that sleep won't help me stay at the top of our class. Our professors are already asking so much of us, but if I want to get into the best law school, I need to work better than the others. 

"How does breakfast sound to you?" I ask Flynn, getting up to go eat some myself. He rubs the sleep out of his eyes before slowly sitting up too. He nods, "I'll be there in a minute."

With a fresh mind, I walk into the kitchen. Eliot is making some pancakes, which honestly sounds better than just toast. It smells better, too. 

He grins when he sees me. "No power nap?"

I shrug, sitting down on top of the counter. The cupboards are so damn high in this house, I barely get there even when I'm standing on my toes. "I feel well enough without. Thank you for looking out for me."

Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say. His light-hearted smile ebbs away and changes into a scowl, but he doesn't say anything. I tap his shoulder so he has to look at me. "What?"

One of his shoulders lifts into a half shrug. "I don't know. You're always apologizing for things you can't help and thanking people for things that come naturally. It's like you don't realize how much you do for us and whenever we do something for you, it seems so surprising to you."

Oh. I blink, not expecting he'd say this. A cough sounds from the other side and when I look, Flynn is leaning against the fridge with his arms crossed over his chest and a nodding head. "I agree, J. This isn't criticism for you, but it's very noticeable how your eyes light up whenever we have time to do something together."

My eyes cast down to the counter. I didn't know it was that obvious. 

"I, uh, I don't know what to say," I whisper, flushing a little. Of course I know why I'm surprised when they have time to do things. I've tried going to therapy for it, but always chickened out at the last minute.

"You don't have to say anything," Eliot gently speaks, turning and putting the pancakes on three plates. "Sugar?"

"Yes, please," I nod, watching him go through the different cupboards to present a nice plate. I've always wondered why he didn't open a bakery. He'd be sold out every day.

Flynn picks up the conversation again. "No, you don't have to say or do anything. We just want you to know that we noticed and we understand. We're busy a lot, but if it's that important to you, I'll gladly party less and play more Monopoly with you."

I roll my eyes. We played Monopoly once, and he won because I was distracted by the game on tv. Ever since, he's never let me live it down.

Yet, I kind of like them spending more time with me. Being alone is nothing for me, unless I study. But even then, I am more comfortable when someone's home. Knowing someone's close, someone I know and care about me, relaxes me. I have no idea why, though I can guess.

The topic shifts after that and soon enough, I'm looking outside and sorting my own mind. It's a nice day, but if I got it correctly, I don't have to go to class today or tomorrow. Coach took care of that, which is actually a pleasant thought.

Now I have two days to let my body rest and catch up with my assignments. I have time, and that's somehow equal to freedom for me. Time means not having to rush for the deadline or the next class. Time means. . . peace.

Eliot apparently has a class at 10, so he ditches his dirty plate in the sink and leaves our apartment with a wave. Flynn looks at me with a grin. "I have an online class in ten minutes, but I can sit here in the living room if you'd like that more."

With a shy grin, I shake my head. All this sudden attention has my skin heating up, while I normally never blush. "No, that's okay. I think I'll work a little for school too."

His face goes back to a frown. "Don't—" "Overwork myself, no I won't," I tease, though I know very well that's exactly what he was going to say. "I promise."

Pleased with my answer, he walks back to his own room, leaving me alone in the kitchen. I notice the dirty plates of the past few days and sigh, realizing my roommates may be very sweet or a very good cook, but I'll always be the one who has to clean up after them. 

While doing the dishes, I let my mind wander over what I could do today. I'm not spending my whole day inside, that's for sure. Maybe I can do my school work in the morning and go on a walk in the afternoon. That does sound nice.

My eye falls on my phone. It reminds me of the unanswered message and my desire to know who it could be. Maybe it's someone's friend to ask me if I'm okay?

I sigh. If that's the case, I'm going to die of embarrassment. Why was I so stupid to go on the ice anyways, despite the headache and the multiple warnings of teammates?

Me: I'm sorry for the delay. Who's this?

Subtle, Jake, subtle.

Of course, I don't get an answer the very next second. Maybe they're in college too. Not everyone has a free day like me.

Thought, after ten minutes, they do answer. I'm surprised, I'd kind of thought they would ghost me as long as I had ignored them. Except that I didn't really ignore them and I was just passed out. But obviously they didn't know that.

Unknown: No problem. I was already lowkey suspecting you weren't going to respond. How's your head?

I glare the screen. Did this person just avoid my question about their identity?

Me: My head is fine but wondering who you are

I face palm myself. I need to learn how to be less straight forwarded. 

Unknown: Oh, this will probably come as a shock but this is Alexander Barett. I hope this doesn't stop you from responding

With a trembling hand, I put my phone on the table. Alexander Barett. So I wasn't hallucinating at the ice rink last weekend. He really is back. 

The first time in years he's contacted me, and it's because I almost fainted in a match against him. I groan, tempted to pull my own hair out. 

Would Flynn be too busy with his lecture to listen to my crisis? I decide yes and walk around the living room, trying to decide what I should do. What would Alex want to talk about? And why now? 

I thought he'd chosen to stay out of each other's lives after that one night. He was gone the next day, without a note, message or phone call. My parents knew he'd leave and they didn't tell me. He didn't tell me either. It hurt so much I was unable to be alone for months. 

I would threaten to do all sorts of things whenever my parents or siblings left all together. Shuddering, I try to removed my thoughts out of that head space. 

Maybe I should just ignore him. Block his number and keep him out of my life. That's the most responsible and smartest thing to do, right? Yet what if he's searching contact to apologize—

"And what are you so anxious about?" 

I look up to see Flynn with a cocked eyebrow, making his way to the couch. With crossed legs, he waits for an explanation. When I sta silent, he motion with his hand. "Well?

Sighing, I drop on the space next to him and show him the conversation Alex and I just had. His neutral expression falls more and more with every text he reads. "Why is that asshole contacting you again after so many years?"

I wince, shaking my head. "I don't know. He was captain of the team of last weekend and the one who called you, so I guess he's just making sure I'm okay?"

With narrowed eyes, he looks up from my phone to glare at my face. "Okay. Jake, I think I know what's going on here."

My eyes widen with hope. "Really? Oh, great, because I don't—"

"You want to meet up with him, listen to his poor excuse of an apology and forgive him way too quickly." His tone is challenging, as if daring for me to tell him he's wrong.

I fumble with the hem of my shirt. "W-well, what if he's really sorry? What if he has a good explanation?"

At my comment, Flynn rushes closer and grabs my shoulders, shaking me roughly. I have to close my eyes to not get dizzy. When he lets go of me, I open them again and glare at him. "What was that for?"

"Well, obviously you needed it if you think he has a good explanation. Listen to me, Jake. He left you on the morning after your first kiss, leaving you alone and desperate. He knew he was going to move the next day, and he still kissed you and then left anyway. He didn't even bother to text you to keep in touch! You were so in love with him and on the night you finally thought it would all come true, he left you. There's no proper explanation for that."

Damn him, always being reasonable. I gulp down the urge to cry at that memory. "What if he's really sorry and actually has a good reason?"

Flynn sighs, shaking his head as he looks around the room. "I did not shake you hard enough for the idea to fall out of your head."

I grin a little. "How would that even work?"

My grin disappears when he looks at me with an annoyed expression. "If a ridiculous idea can pop in your brain, then surely it can disappear too. At least, I hope so."

I just stare at him, hoping I sound convincing enough when I say, "I really do want to know what he has to say."

He sighs again. I'm aware I'm being difficult, especially after all those nights I cried to him over Alex and the fact he just left. 

"You can join and sit a table further or something. If he's disrespectful, you have my permission to punch his handsome face," I joke, trying to lighten the mood.

He glares, pointing at me. I laugh and raise my hands in surrender. "Ugly face, ugly! I'm so sorry!"

The corners of his lips tilt up. "Alright. I can't talk it out of your head, but I can at least protect you, right?"

"You're the best!"