I MISUNDERSTOOD WHAT BREAKING UP means.

I watched Mom and Dad go under the knife-edge of loss and I thought I knew what separation looked like. In the days that Mom left, when Dad became a ghost, I thought that breaking up meant learning to live without all the things you got used to. After she walked out Dad threw out old photographs, bought new sheets and linens, changed the layout of all the rooms in the house.

I thought breaking up meant learning to let go of the past—but it's letting go of the future you thought for sure was yours.

Yeah, fuck, I miss all the things Suki and I did. Studying in the library after school. Taking the bus together and pretending we weren't friends. Staring at the back of her head in Math class. Strolling through Haywood Park. Dancing around in my bedroom. Watching her doze off in bed. I miss that.

But coming home to an empty house, because Dad's still at work, devoid of the laughter and crying and life that I was certain would fill it right about this time? That cuts like nothing else ever has. I imagined being a family with Suki. I imagined a future with her. Notching Cassie's height on a door jamb. Giving Suki massages because she always carries tension in her shoulders. Teaching my daughter how to throw a punch.

And now I'm giving her my blessing to date new guys just so she doesn't have to feel the same pain. So she can move on.

I'm not ready to move on yet. Behind me is a happy past with Suki, but that's been wrenched away. In front was a happy future, but that's been wrenched away, too. The road I walk has crumbled either side of me, and I'm left teetering on a single pillar of asphalt. I can't go forward and I can't go back. I'm just stuck, in this maddening limbo, trapped in a present that offers me nothing.

I blink my eyes open through a splitting headache. The sunlight streaming into the room feels like a laser, searing my retinas. I drag my hands over my eyes, but that motion sets off a wild nausea in my stomach. "Fuck."

I roll over on the bed, emptying the contents of my stomach into Reece's wastepaper bin. Derek must have put it there last night. This morning? I lost track of time. However long I slept for wasn't enough to metabolise the alcohol saturating my blood.

I'm beginning to understand Dad better. If he feels anything like I feel, suspended between the past I had and the future I crave, I get it. I may not approve or condone drinking his life away, especially when he's supposed to be looking after me. But I get it. Moving on isn't an option. Going back isn't an option. Standing still hurts.

I haven't really had best friends before. In middle school I was simply close with the students in my class, and after I was wrenched from the public school system and dropped into this private school hell, those connections inevitably faded and snapped. I liked Jethro in freshman year, but I made the mistake of pouring all of my time into Suki—there was no-one else I would rather have hung out with.

These four really crept up on me. At parties or during lunch or when we drive to the Stereo Shack after school, Madison will say, "Smile, Terry," tag me in whatever picture she's posting to social media, and ignore me afterwards. Whenever I'm dragged into plans to hang out, Reece drives to my house and honks to announce himself without messaging first. Derek saw my inexperience with drugs and alcohol and seemed determined to not let anyone else at school notice, teaching me how to roll or use a bong or cut a line with no judgment.

And Brittany...she really surprised me. When she's not involving me in her drama, she's a good listener. Smart. Intuitive. Her cruelty really only flares up when people encroach on her territory, on the people and relationships that she holds close to her. It's bad to like that side of her, but the only reason Reece offers a ride and Derek looks out for me and Madison publicises our hanging out is because Brittany started it first. Because she pities me, because she knows me, whatever the reason, she makes an effort.

After Mom left and the colour went out of Dad, after competing with her parents and commitments and grades for Suki's attention, having this weird spotlight on me feels like pushing a hot water bottle up to a wind-nipped cheek.

Yesterday I drank more in one sitting than I ever have. Yesterday was also Suki's birthday. Correlation, and totally causation in my case. Reece, Derek and Madison all noticed I wasn't enjoying the party as much as I usually do. I was drinking to forget, rather than drinking to have fun. They don't know why, but they don't ask. Brittany noticed, too, but she knows why, so she doesn't need to ask.

My squinting eyes fall on the random chick who's lying next to me. She resembles Suki. Straight, inky hair lopped in a blunt edge, and graceful features. She blinks lazily at me, stretching her arms behind her head. "Good morning," she smiles.

"Morning," I choke out. What did I do?

When she tries to roll over and put her head on my chest, I bolt upright and slip out from underneath my covers. I spot my shirt on the floor and pull it on. Then my jeans. When I'm fully dressed, shoes and all, I clear my throat.

"So much nervous energy," she drawls, casting a derisive eye over my clothing. "Pity. I was going to offer round two."

"I can't. Sorry," I snap. I am itching to get out of this house, but somehow it feels weird leaving her here. Does Reece know her? Who is she? I can't remember her name. "Do you have a way to get home?"

"Wow," she scoffs, not hiding her affront. "What crawled up your ass and died?"

"Nothing. I just—" When she folds back the duvet, revealing her bare chest, the words die on my tongue. Thank fuck I didn't leave any marks on her. "I just gotta go."

And then I race out of the bedroom, wanting to shed my skin and burn it. It's impossible to miss the markers of the Dormers' wealth even underneath the party detritus. The modern, five-pronged chandelier on the ceiling. The open floor living room with a giant TV on the wall, the pristine white-marble kitchen island covered with empty bottles and solo cups.

An unfamiliar guy is passed out on the arm chair, with two girls sleeping on the couch. I skirt around all of this and head into the spacious backyard. Why is the sun so bright? It bounces off of the cyan water in the mosaic-tiled pool—an empty fried chicken bucket floating calmly on the surface—and the gleaming barbeque in the corner of the bricked patio. The outdoor umbrellas haven't been opened, but I opt for throwing my arm over my eyes when I pick a lawn chair and sink into it.

I don't like parties or meeting girls or driving out to the beach or into the city for concerts, but I like when Brittany invites me or drags me or complains that I was missed. She shows her care in a very demanding way.

In the distance I hear the front door open and click shut, hoping that it's my bad decision leaving. Good riddance. The padded cushion of the lawn chair cradles my throbbing head. I hate hangovers.

"Yo, Tee," a deep, familiar voice calls, cracking the silence of the backyard. My arm falls back to my side. Derek and Reece step out onto the smooth cobbles and slide the glass door closed behind themselves, both dressed for the day but with unruly bed hair.

"I'm going to make a breakfast run," Reece announces. On cue, his stomach rumbles loudly.

Derek arches a dark eyebrow my way. "Where'd the chick go?"

"Home."

"A waste," Reece clicks his teeth. He pulls out his phone. "Pancakes?"

"You seen the girls?" Derek asks. I shake my head, covering my eyes again. I need sunglasses. Or eye removal surgery.

In an obligatory way, I appreciate my friends' twisted and-or insensitive way of trying to make me feel better. But maybe I want to be sad for a bit longer. Can I just wallow where I am for the time being?

Reece lets out a low groan. "Don't find them till after I order. They're going to want açai bowls, whatever the fuck those are, but it's my money."

"Your parents' money," Derek quips drily.

"Ergo pancakes," Reece laughs. I can't see anything but the red-yellow haze of the morning light through the skin of my eyelids, so I don't know if the boys are watching me, or the tiny quirk of amusement on my lips.

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Suki has to quit ballroom, and she's a mess about it.

"You can practise on your own then." I know these are empty words because ballroom dancing requires a partner and she won't be able to take hers with her when she quits.

Suki rolls her eyes. "Prancing around my bedroom alone is hardly practise."

"I can be your partner." I push myself off the bed. "I've been told I'm wildly co-ordinated for my age."

Suki bites her lip at my sense of humour. "I'm not taking students at the moment." Suki's face is sombre, but her eyes are warming with mirth. I'm a complete joke of a human being, but I'll gladly be that if I can make her laugh.

"Not even a prodigy?"

"Well," she hums thoughtfully. "Maybe I can give you a trial class. See if you're up to standard." She searches her phone for a suitable song, and a familiar tune fills my bedroom. You and Me. She appraises me with technical precision, glancing up and down the distance between us.

"Hold me," she whispers. I raise my hands, one aiming for her waist and the other for her fingers, but they fall right through her body like she's a hologram in the air.

"Hold me, Terrence." Her dark, clever eyes are begging me to reach out. Swimming with longing and sadness. I hate seeing her like this, so broken. "Hold me, baby."

Breathing heavily, I try again, grasping desperately in front of me. I might as well have been trying to swipe at the clouds. Never going to hold her again.

"Why aren't you holding me?" she murmurs, tears streaking silently down her face. "Don't you want to be with me—"

I wake up drenched in sweat and shakily switch off my alarm.

Checking my phone before setting it down, I see no new messages from Suki. The last one was last week. It was a stream of videos of Cassie gurgling with her toys, but Suki's voice or face never appeared in it. Cassie's a cute baby. She has Suki's eyes and my light hair. But I want to see and hear Suki.

Suki was right. I love her more than I love Cassie. I love her too much to love Cassie. I have no room in my heart for a kid I've never met, nor energy to love yet another person I can't hold, and seeing videos of Cassie—who's perfect and new and unscarred—makes it clear just how broken and empty I really am.

When I see her, I feel like someone is hollowing out my stomach with a spoon, scoop by scoop. Where do those parts of me go? Maybe I'm destined to lose more and more of myself until I just vanish.

I take a cold shower because the temperature still feels like summer, even though it's fall. The first day of junior year, to be exact. I didn't do anything exciting over the break. Just drinking, getting up to trouble, getting pulled out of trouble by Brittany, and more drinking.

Dad's not even awake when I leave the house, heading for the bus station. I've got my learner's permit, but I have four months to go before I can sit the test. Plus, Reece picks everyone up if we're going anywhere. Nor will Dad ever let me take the car anywhere, unpredictable as his shifts at construction sites are. I've since quit my job at the cinema, and all the money I earned sits untouched in my account.

What's the point in doing anything? Driving, working, studying; why work for a life I can't even imagine?

Ten minutes later, I step onto the bus and stop short.

A new year means new kids. New kids who don't know to stay out of the seat that Suki always sat in, reading her thick paperback books. Six rows back, on the right, window seat. If I narrow my eyes enough, I can see her through the blurred vision. I can imagine she's there, waiting peacefully for me, almost smell her tantalising plum scent.

Even when Suki left last year, no-one bothered filling the seat next to me. Mostly because I started building a reputation for myself. Breaking into people's lockers or planting incriminating shit in their bag—which they make easy for me, leaving them lying around on the floor—committing the occasional act of arson. Small things, of course. I don't blame anyone for not wanting to get too close.

"Hey," I greet the tiny beanpole of a boy sitting in the chair.

"H-hi," he smiles weakly, glancing up at me leaning against the railing.

"First lesson of school," I lean closer, dropping my volume to a conspiratorial murmur, "I really like that window seat there." I help him out with a hand around his shirt collar. He's so light I yank him up with no effort. "So get another one, okay, buddy?"

His eyebrows crinkle dumbly. I didn't lay a hand on him, but the bus takes that moment to turn a corner. The freshman, still stupidly unsteady on his feet, is flung into the nearest chair by the centripetal force, a satisfying oof ricocheting out of his lungs. A flicker of concern curls around my gut, but some other students are consoling him and making sure he's uninjured. I didn't tell him to keep standing on a moving bus, God. Rookie. Lesson number two.

"What's your problem, Terrence?" a boy with earphones around his neck says. I glance over my shoulders. What's his name? Drew or something.

"I don't have a problem."

"Really?"

"Really. Do you have a problem?"

Drew glares at me from across the aisle, two seats back, but he doesn't make a move to stand and fight. I wish he would. I wouldn't mind hitting something and not having to hold back. Lockpicking is only a satisfying outlet for so long.

"Thought not," I scoff, turning away.

I don't need to glance back or even raise my voice. I bet some fuckers are still videoing, like the gossip-hungry vultures they are. Can't they find something better to do with their lives? Instead of poking their noses into places where they aren't wanted. I fucking hate this place; these ignorant, vapid people.

I think they all learnt the lesson, though.

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A / N :

before I started writing WTT  Terrence was a meh character to me, but now he's one of my favourites in terms of psychology and complexity - so now I have to tell myself not to write too much on the rise of the Monarchy era. WTT was supposed to be a prequel and slight sequel to TGR, and this period was going to be expanded in other books. Hope his fall from grace is not too jarring however!

Aimee <3