Amira gathered her courage and rose from her chair. She made her way to Draco’s desk, where he was slumped over his arms, apparently asleep.
“Draco,” she whispered. “I’m really sorry about your phone.”
Draco didn’t stir. He just muttered and turned away, his back facing her.
“I know you didn’t mean to do it,” Amira said. “But I still feel awful about it.”
Draco remained silent.
“I’m here if you need to talk,” Amira said. “I know you might be angry with me, but I want you to know that I care about you.”
Draco slowly lifted his head and looked at Amira. His eyes were swollen and bloodshot, and he looked like he hadn’t slept in ages.
“I’m not angry with you,” he said. “I’m just…exhausted.”
“Exhausted?” Amira asked. “But it’s only the second day of school.”
“I know,” Draco said. “Just… been having trouble sleeping.”
“Is there anything I can do?” Amira asked.
Draco shook his head. “No,” he said, yawning loudly. “I’ll sort it out.”
Amira nodded. “Okay,” she said. “But if you ever want to talk, I’m here.”
Draco smiled faintly. “Thanks,” he said.
Amira smiled back. “You’re welcome,” she replied.
Amira turned and walked back to her seat. She sat down and sighed. She was relieved that Draco wasn’t mad at her anymore, but she was still concerned about him. He looked so tired and stressed. She hoped that he would be able to get some rest soon.
The teacher started talking, and Amira had to focus on the lesson. But she couldn’t help but think about Draco. She hoped that he would be okay.
|•|•|•|
After class..
It was recess, and the homeroom was completely deserted. No one was inside, save for a certain blonde-haired boy occupied in his own world.
Draco opened his journal and looked inside, flipping through all the stories he’d written in the past. He loved writing stories. It was his escape from reality, his way of expressing himself, his source of joy. He had a vivid imagination, and he could create all kinds of characters and worlds in his mind.
He had been writing stories since he was a kid, but he never showed them to anyone, not even his parents. He was afraid of being judged, mocked, or rejected. He kept his stories hidden in his journal, which he always carried with him.
He wrote about anything that inspired him: books, movies, music, dreams, people. Sometimes he wrote about his own life, but he changed the names and details to make it more interesting. He wrote about his hopes and fears, his struggles and triumphs, his love and hate.
He pulled his pen out of his back and uncapped it. He put it to the paper and began to write.
Draco was so engrossed in his writing that he didn’t hear the door open. He didn’t notice the footsteps approaching him. He didn’t sense the presence behind him. He only realized that someone was there when he heard a voice.
“Hey, Draco.”
Draco jumped and dropped his pen. He quickly closed his journal and turned around. He saw Amira standing there, smiling nervously.
“What are you doing here?” Draco asked, his voice cold.
“I just wanted to see how you’re doing,” Amira said. “You looked really tired in class.”
Draco frowned. “I’m fine,” he said. “Why do you care?”
Amira bit her lip. “I told you, I’m sorry about your phone,” she said. “I know it was your favorite thing.”
Draco felt a surge of anger. He remembered how Amira had accidentally knocked his phone off the table and shattered the screen. He remembered how he had lost all his photos, videos, contacts, and messages. He remembered how he had cried in the bathroom, feeling like he had lost a part of himself.
“It was more than just a thing,” Draco said. “It was my lifeline. It was my connection to the world. It was my only friend.”
Amira looked hurt. “I’m sorry, Draco,” she said. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
Draco snorted. “You don’t understand,” he said. “You have everything. You have a nice family, a nice house, a nice car, a nice life. You have friends who care about you, who talk to you, who laugh with you. You have nothing to worry about.”
Amira shook her head. “Said the son of the CEO of Winters Tech.” she muttered…
“To the daughter of a best-selling author!” he snapped back.
“You don’t even know anything about me!”
Draco rolled his eyes. “Oh, please,” he hissed. “Don’t play the victim card with me. You’re the most popular girl in school. Everyone loves you. Everyone wants to be you.”
Amira felt tears sting her eyes. “That’s not true. You don’t know anything about me.”
Draco sighed and turned away from her. He opened his journal and picked up his pen.
“Whatever,” he said. “Just leave me alone.”
Amira felt a pang of sadness and frustration. She wanted to help Draco, but he wouldn’t let her in. He wouldn’t listen to her, he wouldn’t trust her, he wouldn’t give her a chance.
She looked at Draco, who was writing furiously in his journal. She turned and walked out of the room, clenching her fists. She left him alone.
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