"He kissed me," I tell Aris.

He drops all the drawing stuff he's holding straight onto the ground.

"Oh, sorry," I mutter. Quickly, I help him pick everything back up.

"Thomas kissed you?"

"Yes," I say. "But he was drunk."

"...a bit tipsy or very drunk?" 

"Totally wasted," I reply.

Aris's eyebrows fly up. "That's... um, I don't know. Wait, isn't that just harassment?"

"No, no. Don't think in the negative way." I wave it off with a few awkward laughs. "It was just weird. He doesn't remember. I won't tell him, obviously."

"What if you do?" Aris interrupts. "How would he react? Who knows he will be like 'let me try that again' and he'll kiss you again."

I sit down on his—AKA Finn's—bed with a lazy shrug.

"Was it at least nice?"

"No."

"Oh."

"He smelled like alcohol and he wasn't acting like himself but at the same time he was and the kiss was quick and very sloppy and then he turned around like nothing ever happened and the next morning, he woke up complaining about a mad headache and when he asked if he did something stupid, I told him about everything except for all the things that happened after he peed in the freaking laundry basket."

When I'm done talking, I have to take a big breath. Jeez, that lifted some weight off my shoulders.

Aris seems at a loss of words now.

"Aren't drunk words sober thoughts?" He then slowly wonders.

"Yeah, but he didn't say anything about the— wait, he did. He asked if he could kiss me a few minutes before he actually did it. I said no. And he wanted to cuddle. And he called me pretty. And 'baby'. And a queen. And ma'am. He asked me to join his shower."

"Well," is all Aris says for a while, his arms crossed. "That's, er, very interesting. And I think in that case, drunk words are indeed sober thoughts."

That's kind of weird. He doesn't call me 'your highness' in his mind when he's sober, right?

I get a notification from my phone. For a second, I hope it's him. Perhaps a very long paragraph on how he now does remember and a very long love confession, but that's not it.

The Changing Room

Ben: Hi Vi

Jeff: We made this chat because we decided that from now on, we're a big friend group

Me: alright

I don't really care that much about a groupchat right now. All I want is for Thomas to realize his actions— no. The only way he'll do that is by me telling him. There is no other way.

It just feels weird to now sleep next to him, knowing we kissed while he doesn't know. And I still feel really guilty about reading the letters, which makes it worse.

"I think you should tell him." And he adds, "I guess."

I allow myself to fall backwards onto the bed, sighing out loudly. "I'm afraid of how he'll reply."

"Why? He's head over heels."

I jerk back up. "He is?"

"A thousand percent."

"How do you know for sure?"

"Same way I knew for sure with you." Aris shrugs. Runs his pencil over a paper a few times. "And I wasn't wrong back then, was I?"

"No, but..." I want to say more, there's just nothing else to say. I have no excuse.

"Confess," Aris tells me. He shrugs like it's nothing.

I gape at him. "What if we breakup in the end? What about our friendship? I can't go without Thomas. There hasn't been a single day in my life on which I haven't seen him. What if you end up being wrong after all and he starts laughing— no, Thomas wouldn't laugh, but it would get awkward. What if—"

"—he likes you back and you will stay together forever?" He interrupts. "Because that will happen."

"How do you know so sure?"

"I share the same history classes with y'all. He literally wrote your name on his test. He was thinking about you. Otherwise, he wouldn't have done that. And a few days ago, I overheard your parents and his parents—sorry about that, by the way—and your father told his father that your father spoke to our geography teacher who then said your father needed to tell his father about the fact Thomas wrote your name all over his worksheet."

"Woah, woah. I didn't understand a thing. Repeat that."

"Your father spoke to our geography teacher, who said that your father needs to tell Dan about the fact Thomas wrote your name all over his worksheet. And then Dan had to give Thomas a warning about it."

I blink. "That can't be true."

He holds his hands in the air. "I know I see and hear things that aren't actually there, but this was definitely real. And for all I care we go ask the teacher about this."

I bury my head in my hands, unsure what to do. "Also, Thomas's breakup is still quite fresh. It's Wednesday today. He got drunk last Wednesday. They broke up exactly four weeks ago."

Yeah, he didn't go to school that Thursday.

"That's like a month," Aris replies. "It's not a big deal. Didn't she say she was interested in others? When they were still in their relationship? In that case, he's also free to go out with others."

"She told him that. He told me she told him," I murmur before I press my head into the first pillow I find. "This is horrible. He still thinks I have a crush on Gally."

For a few minutes, we're silent; the conversation is over and I should really just take Aris's advice and tell him.

"Oh, by the way," the boy says. "Something is wrong with the milk. I didn't know where to throw it away so I just put it on the counter. And maybe I'm just blind and there's nothing wrong with it at all."

"I'll have a look. Which glass did you use?"

"It's in the dishwasher. Only glass currently in there."

With a nod, I walk down the stairs. The milk is indeed standing on the counter, looking fresh and alright. I hold it to my nose for a sniff. It smells like... nothing. Like milk, I guess.

Then I take Aris's glass. He seems to have thrown the milk out, but there's still white prints on the inside of the glass. I see little green dots, thicker pieces—as if the milk has lumps—and a strange color.

Frowning, I grab another glass. Pour milk from the exact same pack Aris used into the new one. It looks just fine.

"Aris?" I yell below the stairs. "Was the milk like that immediately or did you wait a few minutes until it turned weird?"

"All I did was put the milk back in the fridge and I walked to the couch before I looked back at the glass!" He yells back.

I wait for a few minutes after all, but nothing happens to the glass. And even though I dislike milk, I take a sip. It tastes just fine.

But this, whatever was in Aris's glass, is not fine.

"Lord Hades," I read, turning back to the book. "God of the underworld. The unseen one."

Thomas frowned. "If this is true— because it doesn't have to be. It can be really... really crazy coincidence— and your mom's boss might not have been murdered... how would the next murder go?"

"Underworld," I said slowly. "It's possible that someone gets buried again. Or an unseen one. Like, a blind person? Someone who is often... well, unseen? Not the center of attention in the family, or friend groups?"

I nearly drop the glass. Aris is pretty unseen. He was, at least. And he doesn't make himself the center of attention either way.

I take my phone out of my pocket. Type 'Hades'.

After a few minutes of searching, not compares to this. It can just be a coincidence.

'Hades poison' I type.

Hades is the God of the Underworld. This place is located beneath the Earth, serving as a final destination for souls, where they receive their afterlives fate based on their earthly lives. The Styx, a river, formed the boundary between the Underworld and the Earth. The river's water was toxic and deadly to mortals. Its properties could be seen as a form of poison.

Too much of a coincidence.

So if someone tried to poison Aris, right here, in this house— then there was either an intruder or it's someone in our family. Both of those options really scare me.

Or there's just another bottle of milk, of which the date is expired, but Aris put the wrong one on the counter. Or he somehow did this himself but he didn't notice. Or... or he was seeing things. I don't know. I don't think I want to know. Maybe I'm seeing things.

I check everywhere in the house for another bottle of open milk, but we don't have it.

☯︎︎

"You don't have a crush on me, do you?"

Shocked by Gally's approach, I look around. It's lunch break and Thomas is just across the table, talking to Newt.

How does he know—

"Uhm, no," I say. "Wait. I guess I'll explain. Just... not here."

We walk out of the cafeteria and stop in the hallway, close to my locker. I lean against it. "Alright, so. Eh, basically— Minho and I were sitting somewhere, talking about my crush. Thomas and Teresa—they were still together back then—approached. They asked about my crush. As an excuse, Minho told them I have a crush on you."

"Because you actually have a crush on Thomas," he finishes.

Flabbergasted, I stare at him. "Uhm, yes."

He smiles in something that almost looks like satisfaction. "Hm. Alright."

"Sorry," I say. "Wait— how do you know I supposedly have a crush on you?"

"Thomas might not be very good at keeping secrets," he says.

Imagine I actually had a crush on Gally. Then I would be pissed at Thomas for—

"But he said that because he was whining about a crush you have and then Ben asked who it was and he said he wouldn't tell Ben until Ben started threatening to talk to you."

"...why would Ben talking to me be bad?"

"Because he'd talk to you about the crush Thomas has on you."

First Aris, now Gally.

Maybe that does say something.

"Did he say that?"

"No. But it's very clear that he likes you. But he's denying. I don't know why he's so freaking dumb and dares to call me all kinds of things while he's the idiot here. But trust me, if you'd kiss him, he wouldn't mind. At all. And maybe then he'd continue denying, if you don't say anything about it ever again."

That made sense but also didn't because every word he's saying just goes in through one of my ears and out through the other one. My legs feel like a puddle of jelly, purely at the image of kissing him. And not a drunk, sloppy kiss.

Like, a real kiss. In the rain, or maybe just in his bedroom, or at the beach, or with ice cream in our hands. And then not as short as last Wednesday. No, a long kiss, and then a long ass love confession because I want that and not a stupid 'will you go out with me' but something real.

"Hello?" Gally's hand waves across my vision. "You still alive?"

"Eh, yeah." I nod quickly, running a hand down my face. "What do you think I should—"

"Hi, Viviette." We get cut off by a familiar voice and face; Ben. He stops beside us, and then Minho appears as well. "Now that you're here, question: do you like Thomas?"

I throw my hands in the air so fast that all three of them back away. "Why is that currently everyone's number one subject to talk about?"

"Because y'all are soulmates!" Ben insists. Minho nods in agreement and even Gally gives some kind of shrug that shows he thinks it's a valid statement.

"Everyone has been saying he likes me and I will gladly believe that but that still doesn't mean I will make a move because everything can get ruined—"

"No, because you're soulmates," Ben says. "Nothing will get ruined."

"Yeah. You could commit a crime and he's still be obsessed with you," Minho adds.

I hit my head against the locker. Maybe a little too hard, because it hurts. "Obsessed?"

"Yes, obsessed," my brother says. "I don't want to spill his secrets or something, but he said he would steal your wardrobe if he were a girl. He called your hair beautiful with a million adjectives. He apparently wrote a whole ass letter to you."

He's been doing that for eleven years, is what I almost tell Minho.

Jesus. Eleven years.

I mean, I knew that before, but it didn't really get through my head. On the other side, I shouldn't think too much of it because all he's doing is dedicating them to me.

Okay, but I've been his favorite person for eleven years straight, which does say a lot, I think.

But he's also been my favorite person for eighteen years, so, like... mutual agreement?

"And he spent four hours thinking of ways to kiss you," Minho finishes.

Ben's head snaps toward his friend. "What?"

My head also snaps towards him. "What?"

I took three hours, though. I can't judge.

I just didn't know boys also do that when they have a crush.

See that, Viviette? Crush. Said it yourself.

"Whatever. I'm gonna go. Got classes," I tell them. "It was an awesome talk."

I nearly trip over absolutely nothing, then disappear around the corner of the hallway, cheeks burning.

☯︎︎

Art was my last subject today. We had to make an abnormal drawing. Knowing arts, though, we had to sketch like ten different things first, then test a few pencil techniques, and could then begin with the actual drawing. It always takes many weeks like this.

My things looks a bit off. All I know is that it included mangos and a lot of blue and some American football things in the corner—

Talking about that, Thomas never mentions anything about football. He only ever mentioned that he got on the team. Perhaps the team quit after Mr. Keller's death? He was their coach after all. I'm going to have to ask Thomas sometime.

I'm about to walk out of the school when my name gets called. I stop walking, not in the mood for more drama around Thomas, even though they're just trying to help. And yet I turn around. Who said this has to be about that?

It's Evie, the last person I expected it to be.

She's wearing a simple white shirt and straight leg jeans. Her blonde hair is down. It's less long than last time I saw her. She must've cut it. Before, it nearly came to her waist. Now it comes just past her shoulders. I've got to say, it looks really nice.

A ton of gold and beaded jewelry sits around her neck, arms, and fingers. It fits her. And everything combined makes her carry an air of confidence.

"Oh, hi," I say, surprised she even knows my name. I try to sound normal, but this girl probably has a ton of friends and if I mess this up they will all hear about it.

She shifts her weight from one foot onto the other. "Sorry, this is really random. And it sounds weird. But I just figured you have a really cool style. You're kind of cool in the first place, actually. So I was wondering if maybe you wanted to hang out sometime— not just because you have great style, of course. Just... I don't know. You seem really kind and I no longer talk to my previous best friend and all our friends kind of chose her side so I had to find a way to get different friends— now it sounds like I'm using you— I'm not. You just seem really great."

Look at what you did to the poor girl, Minho. Now I understand why she hates him even better; literally all her friends turned her back on her.

"Hang out? With me?" Caught off guard, I tuck a piece of hair behind my ear.

"Yeah," she says. Her nervousness is surprising; she doesn't seem like the type to get flustered easily. "I mean, we never really talked. And surely you're not as annoying as your little brother."

Thank you. She is one of the first people to know he's my little brother and doesn't refer to me as 'sister of-'.

I nod. "Sure. What did you have in mind?"

Evie visibly relaxes. "I don't know. Perhaps grab a coffee?"

"Sounds good."

"I like your top, by the way. Where did you get it?"

I automatically look down. It's a white blouse with blue floral embroidery. It has a deep V-line, a tie-front closure, and quite puffed sleeves. Oh, and ruffled peplum.

"I made it," I say.

I love when people ask where I got something and I get to reply very casually, 'Oh yeah, I made it myself'.

Her eyes wide. "Really? Wow. It's beautiful."

"I can make you one. If you want," I offer, smiling a bit. "But I'm going to need your sizes and it might take a while, with the embroidery and all."

"Really?" A small gasp leaves her mouth. "That'd be amazing! Is pink possible?"

"Yeah, 'course." I nod. "So, eh, skip the coffee and just go to my house?"

"Definitely."

☯︎︎

Evie has a bike. I sat on the back of it as we rode home. Biking up the hill was nearly impossible. First, we fell off it from laughing at our attempts, and then we just went for the walk.

She places her bike against the house before we walk inside. "Alright. So I've also got an older brother, but I don't think he's home," I say. "Oh, and we have Aris. He's my friend. It's a long story which I won't explain right now— he's just temporarily living with us. I think he's home, but he's usually in his room."

Understanding, she nods. "I have two little sisters. One of them is fifteen and the other one is twelve. I'm seventeen."

"When will you turn eighteen?"

"July fourteenth. Will take a while. When will you turn... nineteen, if I'm right?"

"Nineteen, yeah. On march nineteenth."

"Oh, a golden birthday!"

"Yeah." I laugh a bit. "Would you like to drink before we go upstairs."

"Some water is okay."

"Vi?" Uh-oh. "Who's that you're with?"

Before I can even warn Minho, he already walks into the kitchen.

And drops his plate straight to the floor.

It shatters into a thousand pieces, creating a loud sound I wince at. Or that might be the slight pain I feel in my ankle; one of the glass pieces hit it.

"Uh, Evie. Hi. I did not... expect you to be here," he stammers, face bright red in a second. He's wearing sweatpants and a giant sweater. Clothes he probably doesn't want her to see him in.

"That's because I'm not here for you," she snaps.

At first, I was frowning at how bitchy she acted towards him. Now I understand.

I mean, I understand both sides, but I think the consequences of all the issues were worse for Evie.

Not that Minho meant for all of that to happen. Of course he didn't want her friends gone. But he must by now have noticed as he has a ridiculously fat crush on her—I actually can't say a word, I'm crazy in love with Thomas—and he should have apologized by now. But he hasn't.

"I didn't know y'all were friends," he then says, clearing his throat, yet it doesn't help with his high-pitched tone.

"From now on, we are," she replies. "Any problems with it?"

"No," he says fast. "Wait, now that you're here, I got you something—"

"I don't think I want anything from you."

But he still runs up the stairs, comes back, and forces a folded paper in her hands, eyes pleading.

Hesitantly, Evie stuffs it in her pocket.

"Please do read it," he adds, then quickly walks away.

Evie and I share a glance. I shrug at her. I do also hope she will read it.

To me.

Because I want to know if Minho is a bit romantic.

It's definitely possible that he's an even worse writer than seven-year-old Thomas.

'Evie, you take my breath away like a littel poop falling into the toylett.'

With a chuckle below my breath, we walk upstairs.

"Do I really read it?" She sighs out. "I'm curious, but this can be a sick joke of his."

"It isn't. Minho seems like a real prick but he's not. Not really," I tell her. "He has certain ways of communicating, for sure, but he's not that awful. Oh, and I know he is truly sorry for what he did to you."

"You know all of it, don't you?"

"Pretty much." I shrug.

After she has complimented my room and I gave her a small tour, she sits down on my bed. "Okay, I'll read it. Out loud."

Before I can say a word, she begins.

"Hi, Evie. I'm writing this because, to be honest, my friends told me this is better than a simple text. We were kind of tipsy during that so I don't know if they spoke the truth. Maybe this is really cheesy," she reads.

Kind of tipsy? Thomas peed in the freaking laundry basket!

"This is not a love confession, just an apology. I'll give the confession later. Anyway, I am really really sorry for everything I've caused and done. I genuinely thought Camila was you, even though I should have been able to tell because your hair is more beautiful."

She pauses for a moment. "And yes, Newt and Thomas told me to put that in because Thomas is crazy in love with Viviette and we asked him to describe some things so he named her hair with like a million adjectives and I chose the best one with basically summarizes it: beautiful."

Thomas is haunting me at this point. He always appears everywhere.

'Confirmation' number three, though. Or four. Gally, Ben, Minho, and Minho again, but now he's mentioning it in a thing he did not expect me to see.

"And then you were so angry—valid, by the way—that I just gave up on trying. I needed distraction from you so my stupid head decided to start a with-benefits thing with Camila. It was too late when I realized she was your best friend and this could ruin your friendship. Either way, I definitely didn't mean for you to lose all your friends."

She pauses again for a moment. "That's why you are free to become friends with me, if we're not going for the lovers part. And at both ways, I can introduce you to my friends. They are really awesome, trust me. And my sister would like you. See you, Minho."

I'm not sure what to say. Luckily, there's another thing she reads that breaks the silence.

"PS, I'm that one hot guy in your class, in case you've forgotten my name."