TW // mention of attempted murder, blood

( ARIA'S POV )

"NIGHTY-NIGHT, PRINCESS."

     "IS SHE BREATHING?"

     Miren's voice was panicked. I wanted to let her know I was okay— but from what?

     "Yes," Issac answered. "Heartbeat's okay, too, but I think she's in comatose."

     I could hear footsteps inching closer to me. The rustling of leaves was a delight to hear, until I felt a sting of pain. My forehead ached, but I couldn't utter a word. Someone started putting an antidote onto it, but without speaking a word, I wouldn't have a clue to who it was.

     "You idiot," Mateo hissed. "Why didn't you pull her up? We were counting on you."

Even without context, I knew that was a sugarcoated version of 'we trusted you.'

     What happened to me?

     I wanted to tell them that I was well— that my head only hurt a little. That I would wake up, soon. Why could I hear them, yet I was sleeping? Was I sleeping?

     What did Giovani do to me?

     Despite his shameless efforts into getting our attention, not to mention his stubbornness— there was something about him. I couldn't understand why, just as with Issac, but I felt I could connect to them. Nevermind our contrasting personalities.

     "I was going to, I swear—" Giovani tried to explain, before ultimately getting cut off by Haven.

     "But you didn't."

     The throbbing of my forehead was put to a stop, as someone placed a bandage over it. The group was eerily silent— an occurrence I didn't think was possible.

     "We should've left someone else to the task," Peter stated, before promptly walking away.

( GIOVANI'S POV )

    
     A MEMORY FLASHED before my eyes as I watched her struggle to breathe.

     She looked helpless— vulnerable. I held her ankles firmly, not leaving any room for her to escape my grasp. Everyone's pleads felt distant, as if my ears were covered by headphones, but all I could hear was his breathing.

My fingers trembled. I was holding the tube. I snuck a look at his weak, defenseless body. His nasal cannula. Anger spiked inside of me, and I wanted him to feel the burn. The flames, the heat. I wanted him to know that he made me feel rage. And maybe, he deserves this.

Until he didn't. Until I let go of the tube. Until I realized I would be leaving my father lifeless. Until I saw a mental image of myself, my hands stained with the guilt of being the reason my father is deceased.

When I was finally able to brush away the memory, my hands gripped on themselves. Aria's forehead was stained red, and her skin was pale. The group swarmed around her. Issac laid on her chest, trying to listen for a heartbeat. Nayari eyed me, heavily breathing. She wasn't angry— worried. For me?

     How ironic. I almost let Aria die the same way I did with my dad. If third time's the charm, would someone pass away on my watch the next time?

THAT WAS 30 minutes ago.

It's no secret that everyone else is avoiding me. I wouldn't blame them— there's no point in using my trauma as an excuse for a dick move.

I leaned against a group of snags— basically dead trees. I toyed around with the lace of my school ID, cringing at the picture. No wonder my mother said I resembled the look of a stoner. Because, really, that's all I was in the view of everyone who hadn't known me since birth: some teenager getting high on the streets, living life on the edge as if tomorrow didn't exist.

     Miren might've been the best person to talk this through with— but even she doesn't see me behind this image created by society. And now, with Aria stuck in Snoozeville, who have I got left?

     I chugged down a tumbler of water, making myself comfortable as I nestled myself between the altered bark. Before leaving the group to themselves, I stole a handful of berries, which I barely got away with.

     I bet if I wished for endless food supply to rain from the sky, they'd take me back.

     But that would be a stretch. What kind of God would bestow the gift of prophecy to a 16 year old? The youngest of our unhinged group of 8, might I add.

I scoured my backpack for anything I could fidget with. My mother would sneak little toys in one of the pockets, which admittedly, comforted me when I was younger. I haven't checked for them since 7th grade. She thought it would help with the grief, but little did she know, it was for the guilt.

Underneath a few notebooks, I found a rectangular object. Pulling it out, I see that it was a Waterful Ring Toss— a vintage one. It was a classic red, with one button on the right side. I once did my research on the 80's, specifically for clothing ideas, and instead found myself scrolling through an article about toys that emerged in that decade.

I must've looked like an 8-year-old fresh from the local fun fair. My hair flew various directions, while my legs were tampered with scars that barely reached lower than my epidermis. My hands were perspiring from the heated rays of the sun, while my lips were chapped.

     I could never really understand the ways of the sun. If it was meant to dry clothes and break your 3-year-old heart by melting your ice cream, why did it turn me into a flowing waterfall?

     "Gio," she said.

     I flinched to the sound of her voice— a mixture of seriousness and responsibility. There was only one person with that tone in our group, and it was Nayari.

     I knew all too well that she was going to lecture me on safety and awareness. And what's a guy got to do to get out of that situation? Sweet talk.

     "What's a pretty lady like you doing in the dead part of the forest?" I ask her, with one eyebrow raised.

     Nayari's eyes shot open, bringing both of her hands behind her in timidity. Blinking back her expression, she straightens herself, showing a solemn expression compared to her usual whimsical one. This girl does not back down.

     "What happened with you earlier?" She asked me, holding a sincere tone that contrasted her facial expressions.

     "Who's asking?" I countered.

     Nayari let go of her stiff position. I watched as her lips turned into a sweet smile. She was the embodiment of care. "Just me."

I smiled, but I was hesitant in giving her an explanation. She sat down in front of me, waiting patiently for an answer.

     "Pass, my Waterful Ring Toss and I are perfectly fine, thank you—"

     As I tried to stand up and avoid the conversation, Nayari took my hand. I subconsciously pulled myself down for her. Our hands remained clasped together, nestled in the remains of the grass.

"I'm willing to listen, you know."

But I'm not willing to tell.

I couldn't speak straight with her around. I wouldn't know if she'd understand— or bear, what I did and didn't do.

If I had to tell anyone, Nayari would be the last person I'd go to. And it's not for the wrong reasons.

"Hate to break it to you, but I've got nothing to say, Miss Nightengale."

She slipped her hand away from mine. "I doubt you'd drown Aria for fun."

"What makes you say I wouldn't?"

"Because you've got a soft spot for her."

"Where'd you get that information?"

The two of us fired responses back and forth at rapid speed.

"The way you so subtly regret reading one of her journal entries last night."

"It's called the bare minimum of humanity."

I'd felt like we were settling a debate, but she was wittier than I expected.

"Which all the more proves that you aren't a monster. Hence, you wouldn't drown her."

Nayari wore a victorious grin.

"You should wear that more often." I told her.

She looked over at her shirt, then her pants, before trailing her eyes back on me in confusion.

"I meant your smile."

Nayari raised her eyebrows in judgement, but her cheeks were flushed. A dash of pink seeped into her skin, matching the colors of her lips.

"You're flirting to get out of trouble, aren't you?"

"Who said I was in any trouble?"

Except I was. Not because of what happened half an our ago— no, I'd already gotten my handful of punishment and resentment for that.

I'm in trouble with her. Nayari Nightengale.

"I understand if I'm not the one you need to talk to. I'll let you know when Aria wakes up," she stood up from her seating position, patting my shoulder. I wanted to reach for her hand— and have ourselves stuck in this moment again.

But at least she respected me. And my boundaries.

( ARIA'S POV )

"PLEASE DON'T DIE."

I felt a damp cloth wash over the wound on my forehead. It was cold, similar to the freezing air on a winter's day.

"Gio needs you. We all need you."

I was certain that Nayari had been the same person to provide an antiseptic for me.

"We'd gotten an object out of the river. It's a wooden box, but we decided to open it once the group's back together."

She proceeded to tell me about Giovani straying away for a while, and Haven being the one to take the aforementioned object from the water.

I still couldn't remember what had happened.

And I'm certainly not used to hearing people's conversations while I'm at my deep sleeping stage.

"He sees something in you. I don't know what, but you seem to attract all the boys despite being a lesbian— God, I really hope you're sleeping right now, or that would've been awkward."

I don't think I'll tell her when I wake up.

"Is she still breathing?" Another voice entered.

"Yeah, we're all good."

Their voices turned distorted, I could barely make their words out.

"Sleep tight, princess. This is only the beginning."

That wasn't Nayari— or anyone else from our group. Princess. I remember hearing that nickname a while ago.

"HEY! SHE'S MOVING!"

     I could hear Mateo's distant voice. My head only throbbed a little now, and my eyes started to flutter open— like a butterfly emerging from its cocoon.

     Getting a full view, I see them bundled around me. My throat felt a surge of water rising upwards, causing me to cough out a concerning amount of liquid. Miren held me, sighing in relief.

     "Thank goodness."

     "So, how was your beauty sleep?" Issac asked me, trying to be comedic amidst our situation. I half expected it from him, but it made me feel welcome from that who knows how long coma.

     Peter flicked him off, "Somehow you're worse than me at saying things at the wrong time."

     Miren sat me up. Nayari offered me a jug of water and fresh berries to eat.

     "Here's our find, by yours truly," Haven announces, holding the wooden box in front of me. It looked damp and crusty, with an already-picked lock. A hair pin wasn't hard to attain in a group where half of you were women.

     My hands reached out for it, before getting blocked by Miren. "Eat, then we solve the mystery."

     I gave her a whiny expression. Without a second to waste, I flipped the container open and drank from it, all the while chewing a handful of berries.

     "Done, refreshed, nourished, satisfied, show me what's inside the box." My voice was raspy.

     The group shared a laugh, before presenting me the container we spent an hour to find. I grazed my fingers against the dampened wood, trying to get a sense of how long it had been sitting there. Waiting, waiting, waiting.

     Haven urged me to open it, wanting to cure her craving for puzzles and enigmas.

     But then I remembered something— someone.

     "Where's Gio?"

     They all shared a face of disappointment. Stares and looks were given, but alas, they offered me no answer.

( GIOVANI'S POV )

"THERE YOU ARE."

My body shivered in fear as I heard her voice— which slightly sounded of a broken toy losing its ability to talk. I was certain my heart would escape my chest, as my skin took shape of a cartoon ticker.

Where would I begin?

"Oh hey, you're awake," I started, offering Aria a spot next to mine. Her maroon-shaded blood stain seeped through a cotton bandage. I could smell the aroma of fresh berries through her breath. Scars marked on her palm and fingers, but she seemed rather unfazed.

"Yeah, and apparently, you did something to me. What's that all about?"

Did she say apparently? Was this a trick question? A sick joke?

"Stop messing with me, you know what."

Aria's eyebrows scrunched together, her hands trembling lightly. Strands of her hair followed the trail of the wind, but her palazzo pants remained damp. She was unmoved.

"I don't remember." She answered plainly.

Great, telling her will feel even worse. As if her head didn't already throb enough.

I ran fingers through my hair, tugging at them a generous amount, causing Aria's concerned expression to grow. If I could scream at myself, I would.

"You've had your fair share of trauma, this'll only make things worse for you." I told her, but like every woman I'd ever met on this heck of a planet, she wasn't leaving without an answer.

     "I'm no therapist," she began. "But if you decide to keep all those feelings in, they'll let loose stronger than ever. A devil trapped in a crystal, if you will."

     Aria and her fantastical mind. Aria and her never-ending metaphors. Aria and her poetry.

     She's dealt with topics like these in books, right? I'm sure hearing it up front wouldn't be any different, right?

     But then again, what would you do if a friend of yours told you they almost killed you by reminiscing a memory of them almost killing someone else?

     "Seeing you drowning— it flooded my head with something I did, or didn't do."

     Aria's eyes grew wider. "I was drowning?"

     I nodded. "I was holding your ankles for support, but I couldn't move so you ended up bumping your head onto a rock."

     We weren't the same. If I'm going to come clean, she'll hear every detail for what it is— not a sugarcoated, storybook-like description of it.

Aria's face and body expression became unreadable in a blink of an eye. Anger seeped through as a closed fist, sadness as her lip shivering, and confusion as her squinting eyes.

"You mean you could move, but something was stopping you. What was it?" She fired back, cracking her knuckles. Considering I was one of the more careless teenagers in my generation, hearing her bones made my stomach turn slightly.

I started my in-depth explanation with lightness. "We've really had our fair share of daddy issues in our childhood, haven't we?"

     She reacted surprisingly mildly to that one. Context wasn't visible, so I understood.

     "Your dad left you too?"

     "Passed away. It was almost my fault, actually, but I saved myself from that guilt. Kinda."

     If I had a ranked list of career paths that suited me best, any job concerning my feelings would be the very last, as you can tell. I don't think Aria had a clue on how to react. It's not everyday that someone trauma dumps on you.

     I continued. "I hate talking about him, because my mistakes would come flooding back to me each time. You look like you'll understand, though. And I owe you an apology anyway."

     "I will understand." She told me. "And you do owe me an apology."

     I let myself lie down on the ashes from the tree and its once flourishing leaves. Aria altered herself to a more suitable position, with both legs stretched out and her elbow keeping her balanced on the ground.

     "The way you were earlier— urging to rise for air, having to breathe— I saw him. Through my eyes." I began. "The whole situation brought put the worst in me by letting the memory slip through, until I couldn't see you. Or feel you— that's why I held tighter.

     "I was a spoiled brat, being mad at him for selfish reasons. And, for a moment, all I wanted was for him to be out of the picture.

     "I wanted to pull the plug."

     Soon enough, the roles reversed. My voice was hoarse, and hers wasn't. I had the unreadable expression, while she wore the sincerest look of empathy.

     She gripped onto my arms, hovering over me. I wanted to close my eyes and disappear completely from this moment, but she held close. She understood me. The feeling of rage building up inside of you. The endless choices, but you chose the worst one— the life-threatening one.

     A teardrop slid its way down, falling into my ear, which felt like a fly landing itself onto a slice of steal. I disliked the feeling, and decided to sit myself up.

     I didn't have to finish the story for her. She knew how it would end, and she understood. I felt her fingers graze my skin, trailing away from mine, and soon enough her feet followed.

     She had left. I wiped off all signs of emotion inked onto my face. There's no point in using a method of expression that no one knows you by.

And then I heard boots thumping, pages turning, and the song of the birds from a distance.

"It is never better alone, for when you have risen up from the depths of despair, who will be left to watch you make all your dreams come true?" She whispered, as she leaned against the opposite side of the tree. You've been fighting a fight unbearable to one's soul.

AMELIE SPEAKS !
i never pushed myself harder to meet a deadline, for a chapter for a book without a posting sched <3
if theres typos n stuff iM SORRY IT'S 1AM.

soooooo here we are exploring giovani a little bit more ! he's not all careless && edgy, he's actually a softie if you squint hard enough

what do we think ?????? (this is 3k words btw....)

i like the idea of making the weirdest endings for each chapter— like a sudden cliffhanger or a passage of serenity that will disappear when the next chapter begins :))))))

also, aria && gio aside, NAYARI && GIOVANI. ASDFGHJKL i love them a normal amount. i think.

i think i'll do multipovs for future chapters because some words on the plaque will be related to the other members, so they'll have their moments <3