Chapter 132 132- Never Pretend That Touch Didn’t Mean Anything
LEXI
I groan as I force myself to my feet, every movement slow and uncoordinated, my body protesting like I’ve just run a marathon instead of barely making it across a room. Using the wall for support, I push myself forward, step by shaky step, until I finally make it into the bathroom, and then I stop dead. I blink orce. Twice. This is… not my bathroom. It’s different, but not unfamiliar either. The layout, the colour tones, even the little details… they all feel wrong and right at the same time. A strange sense of recognition settles over me, and my stomach twists.
“Blake’s room?” I ask out loud, completely baffled. The door swings shut behind me with a quiet, final click, and I just stand there for a moment trying to process what just happened. What the hell? Did the Academy just… connect our rooms? Because my brain clearly isn’t working properly right now, I reach back and open the door again, and sure enough, this time, it leads into Blake’s bathroom. Mine is completely gone. I stare at it for a second, then slowly close it again. Okay. So they’re not connected anymore. Which means… they never really were, were they? My theory that the Academy doesn’t actually move rooms, but instead moves the connections between them, like doors acting as portals, is starting to seem a lot more likely. Does that mean my room and Blake’s were never actually next to each other? Just… connected that way? That’s… weird. Really weird. But also kind of amazing. I don’t have the brainpower to think about it properly right now. At least no one is banging on THIS door. I can’t even hear anything outside anymore. The silence is almost unsettling, but I’ll take it. I slide down the wall until I’m sitting on the floor, my head lolling back slightly as exhaustion crashes into me all at once. I want to stay here. I want to just lie down and not move for about a year. But I can’t. Not yet. I still need to do things. Important things. Phone. I need my phone.
“Can you get my phone for me?” I ask the Academy tiredly, my voice barely above a whisper. Across the room, Blake’s bedside table drawer slides open. I squint at it suspiciously. I really hope that’s my phone and not the Academy trying to trick me into snooping through his stuff, because I am way too tired to deal with that kind of moral dilemma right now. The bed looks ridiculously far away. Like, unreasonably far. Still, I drag myself across the floor, using my arms more than my legs, until I finally reach the table and pull myself up just enough to reach into the drawer.
“Yes,” I breathe, relief flooding through me when I feel my phone in my hand. Then I pull it out. And my stomach drops. It’s completely smashed. The screen is shattered, the casing cracked, and it very definitely does not turn on.
“Shit,” I mutter, the word heavy with disappointment. There goes that plan. I push myself upright again, using the bedside table for support, my balance still off just enough to make everything feel slightly tilted. As I steady myself, my elbow knocks into one of Blake’s little decorative items. It clinks softly. I
freeze.
“Damn it… oops,” I mumble automatically. He hates when people touch his hoard. Except… Wait. My thoughts stumble, then catch. He hates when people touch his hoard. He notices when people touch his hoard. Right? Because he said dragons can FEEL when someone tries to steal from them. A flicker of hope sparks in my chest. If I can’t call him… Maybe I can get his attention another way?
“Okay… sorry in advance,” I murmur, half to Blake, half to the universe, as I reach out and very carefully touch one of the nearby objects. Then another. Then another. I’m gentle. Extremely gentle. I don’t move anything, don’t damage anything, just… touch. Enough to be noticed. Enough to maybe trigger whatever instinct he has about his things. I spend a few minutes doing it, moving slowly around the room, leaning heavily on his furniture and brushing my fingers over different pieces of his hoard. Then I stop. Either he’s noticed by now and is on his way… Or this isn’t going to work. I don’t have the energy to keep going anyway. I just want to lie down. Just for a minute. But I shouldn’t. Not until I know I’m safe. Not until I know what happened to Ellorie. Not until I know where Blake is. Also… concussion. Sleeping is probably a bad idea. But resting? Resting is fine. I think. I glance down at myself and grimace. My pyjamas are filthy, stained and stiff in places with drying blood, most of it mine, I think. Hopefully. I’m not actually sure, and I very deliberately do not let myself think too hard about that. Nope, Not dealing with that right now. I need to hold it together a little longer. Okay. If I’m going to test, I should at least get changed. That seems… reasonable. I force myself to move again, heading toward Blake’s closet with slow, unsteady steps. My hand tumbles with the
( handle before I manage to open the door. Inside, neatly arranged, are pyjamas. In my size.
“Thanks Academy,” I mumble, the word barely audible as exhaustion drags at every part of me. The bathroom door swings open on its own, slow and insistent, and I groan softly. Of course. Right. I glance down at myself again, taking in the blood, the dirt, the way my clothes are sticking uncomfortably to my skin, and make a face. Yeah… I probably need to clean up a bit before I change into anything new. Not a full shower though, absolutely not. I am way too dizzy for that, and the last thing I need right now is to slip, crack my head again, and make everything even worse. The thought alone is enough to make me hesitate in the doorway for a second, steadying myself with a hand against the frame.
1/2
2:29 pm Ppp PPP
Chapter 132 132- Never Pretend That Touch Didn’t Mean Anything
“Okay… just… minimal effort,” I mutter to myself, like I’m negotiating with my own body. I step into the bathroom carefully, every movement slow and
deliberate, hyper–aware of how unsteady I feel. The cool tiles under my bare feet send a slight chill through me, which is honestly kind of grounding. I grip
the edge of the sink as I approach it, leaning heavily against it as I look up into the mirror, and immediately wish I hadn’t. I look awful. Pale, shaky, eyes
unfocused, hair matted and streaked with blood. There’s a smear of red down my temple that’s still slowly trickling, and for a second my stomach flips
again.
“Nope. Don’t think about it,” I tell myself firmly, tearing my gaze away. I fumble with the tap, turning on the water and waiting a moment before cupping my hands under it. I bring it up to my face, wincing slightly as it stings where the skin is broken, and start trying to wipe away the worst of the blood. It’s messy and not particularly effective, but it’s something. I grab a cloth, conveniently provided by the Academy, and soak it, then press it carefully against my forehead, trying to clean things up without making it worse. I move slowly, methodically, focusing on small areas at a time so I don’t overwhelm myself. My hands shake a little, but I manage. It’s not perfect, not even close, but at least I don’t look like I just walked out of a crime scene anymore. Mostly. That’s… an improvement. I lean against the sink again when I’m done, breathing a little heavier than I should be for something so simple, and close my eyes for a
second.
“Good enough,” I decide quietly.
Now that I’m clean–ish, I drag myself back out of the bathroom and make my way to Blake’s bed, every step slow and heavy like I’m moving through water. The mattress dips under my weight as I climb in, and I let out a long, shaky breath as I sink into it, the familiar scent of him surrounding me. It’s grounding in a way I didn’t expect, enough that some of the tension in my chest loosens just slightly. I pull the blanket over myself, more for comfort than warmth, and stare up at the ceiling, trying to ignore the way everything still feels a little off, a little tilted. I really hope he shows up here soon. Because if he doesn’t… well, I don’t really have a plan B. The thought settles heavily in my chest, uncomfortable and unavoidable. I should probably work on that. It isn’t fair to Blake, or to me, that I depend on him this much. It limits both of our freedom. And I don’t want to become something he has to take care of, some responsibility he feels obligated to protect. And I definitely don’t want to end up like part of his hoard, something precious that needs to be hidden away and guarded from the world. The thought makes my stomach twist. I want to be able to protect myself. I want to be able to stand on my own two feet and not feel like everything falls apart the second he isn’t there. Ellorie said she would help me…
“Is Ellorie okay?” I ask the Academy softly, my voice barely more than a whisper in the quiet room. The lights shift in response, not fully dimming or brightening, but settling somewhere in between. I frown slightly, trying to interpret it through the haze in my head.
“Is that like… she’s half okay?” I ask. The light brightens slightly in response, and I let out a small breath.
“Is she in immediate danger? Does she need saving?” I press, worry creeping back in despite everything. The lights dim down this time. No. Relief washes through me, weak but real. I don’t think I could help her right now even if she did need it, and that thought sits uncomfortably in the back of my mind.
“Is Blake on campus?” I try next, my fingers tightening around the small compass at my throat. The lights go completely dark. My chest tightens. I sigh heavily, the sound soft but filled with exhaustion, and clutch the necklace more tightly as I curl slightly on my side, pulling the blanket closer around me.
Please hurry, Blake.
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R Visitor
Oh lexi.. loving she’s having a small break culed up in Blakes bed.
3 days ago
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