School will start in about a week. We still have New Year's to celebrate, which is in two days.

Thomas is still resting. There isn't a lot of others things for him to do. He needs to heal and it can't go wrong.

However, I need to take a look at the wound.

"Thomas," I hiss. "Try to sit up."

"I have not rested well enough."

"You've been resting for the past two days! I need to check your wound. Sit up."

"Wait. Just let me—"

"Thomas."

And just like that, he sits straight up against the wall.

Hm.

"Shirt off."

"My arms are stiff— my whole body is stiff, actually. Can you please—"

"No. You need to stretch anyway."

Muttering about how poor he is, he takes off his shirt. I squint my eyes to look at the wound. The white, enormous band-aid has gained a few red spots; he bled.

"We need to put a new one on," I say. "Come on."

☯︎︎

Aris relapsed.

☯︎

Mom is suddenly very upset and I can tell it's not one hundred percent about the fact Aris relapsed.

☯︎

And Indigo fainted.

☯︎

And they found out about Thomas's wound, because he was forced to come out and eat breakfast with everyone before they'd think he died or something.

It was a few minutes after I replaced Thomas's band-aid with a new one, when Aris approached me and told me what happened, his voice trembling and a thousand apologies leaving his mouth.

I asked if I had to help clean anything and asked how he wanted me to comfort him after he said 'no' to the first offer. Then he said he'd be fine, he just wanted to let me know about the relapse because he did not feel like hiding it.

He said he told Mom anyway; he didn't want her to get angry or something.

After that, we got called for breakfast. Thomas was forced out of his bed, they saw he had trouble walking, and then Dan lifted his shirt up, saw the wound, asked what happened, and the whole explanation came from Thomas.

That was when Mom was on the verge of tears, which is strange, because everyone was obviously worried, but no one was crying. Mom isn't even that emotional in the first place.

I think it's because of the relapse and because Thomas got hurt, but I'm not so sure. It was weird.

And when the Reyes left our house, Indigo fainted. She got up too fast, the blood rose to her head, and according to Google, you have chances of fainting during your fourth month of pregnancy. In the end, she was okay, though. She'll go to the doctor soon.

It's a lot.

Now I'm doing everything I can to cheer Aris up. I don't dare to ask why he relapsed, too afraid it'll be a reason that make me feel guilty for no reason. On the other side, if he'd tell me, I can help even better.

Thomas is at home, probably arguing with his parents: they want to take him to the hospital and to let the police know what happened. Thomas would rather get shot again.

Idiot.

"Okay, so we can—"

"Aris," Mom interrupts me mid-sentence. "Can I talk to you for a second?"

"Mom, he's in the middle of teaching me something on the piano," I reply, motioning at Finn's keyboard, "Can't you do it later on?"

"No," Mom says sharply. So sharply both of us flinch. "Now. I need to speak to him."

With his head down, Aris gets up. He follows Mom outside my room, and I jump up. "Mom, don't be so harsh."

She glances at Aris, as if she's about to say something but doesn't want to say it in his presence, then turns back to me. "Don't protest," is all she says.

For the following minutes, I wait for Aris to return. The urge to walk downstairs to overhear them is big. And eventually, it takes too long, and I just do it.

Except they're not in the living room.

When I'm standing in the kitchen, I do hear their voices. It takes a second for me to realize where their voices come from; the garden. I can look at it through the kitchen window.

Mom's yelling at Aris.

I can't even understand what she's saying because she's speaking so fast and aggressively.

"Hey!" I walk outside once I see the way Aris is shrinking in his skin. "What's going on?"

"Stay out of this, Viviette," Mom warns.

Protectively, I step in front of Aris. "No. Why are you yelling? Because he relapsed?"

"No. But—." She looks past me, at Aris, "Well, yes, actually," she then says.

My eyebrows scrunch. "Yes or no?"

"Yes," she says, more confident.

As if it's a good thing.

"Mom!" I throw my hands in the air. "He's trying his best, alright? You can't yell at him for relapsing! He was doing well and unfortunately, it's not going very well right now, but it's not like we're all going to die now—"

"Viviette," Mom warns again. Her voice is shaking. Is she that angry? I don't think so. I don't know, "get inside and let me handle this."

"I thought you were in for helping him," I snap. 

And again, it's like she wants to say something, but she changes her mind. "Inside. The both of you. Go set the table for lunch."

I take Aris by the arm, softly tugging. "Are you okay?" I ask quietly.

He nods, guilt written over his face; his eyes are abnormally wide, eyebrows scrunched in awe, and bottom lip pouty.

"It's okay," I add. "You didn't do anything wrong— well, you get what I mean. She wasn't supposed to yell at you. Don't take it personally. She often yells. Has she yelled at you before?"

He shakes his head.

"Okay, then it's really not meant personally," I tell him, "She was probably just in a bad mood."

And he nods. "Thank you."

I notice how he's hesitant to hug me by his body language—arms shifting uncomfortably towards me, unsure—so I go for it. Wrap my arms around his slim body.

"If she does it again, tell me, and I'll try to talk to her. No one deserves to get yelled at in these situations."

"Thank you, Vi," he mutters.

"Of course."

As we walk upstairs, my phone buzzes. I let Aris go up first so I can check it out.

STEPH ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Omg.
Viviette.
You won't believe this.