Darn Stupid Brother You Are

(Angel's POV)

I noticed it more and more with each passing day. Hendrix wasn't just distant; he was absent; he'd become a shadow of the person I knew. He avoided eye contact, his sharp remarks were clipped, and the warmth that used to simmer in his voice when he spoke to me was gone. Completely.

I remembered my conversation with Hande, the way she'd assured me Hendrix didn't hate me. That maybe he loved me too much, in his own messy way, to bear seeing me with someone else. But as I watched him walk past me in the hallway like I didn't exist, the doubt ate at me. What if he did hate me now? What if I'd broken something between us that could never be fixed?

I had to talk to him. Even if he brushed me off again. Even if it made things worse.

I caught up to him in the rec room, where he was leaning against a wall, headphones in and staring at nothing in particular. "Hendrix," I called softly and stepped closer. He didn't look at me.

"I need to talk to you," I said, louder this time. His jaw tensed, but he didn't respond.

"Please, don't do this," I pleaded. "Don't shut me out."

He finally looked at me with cold eyes. "There's nothing to talk about, Angel."

"Yes, there is," I pressed. "We can't keep pretending this distance between us doesn't exist."noveldrama

He yanked his headphones off and glared at me. "What do you want me to say? That I'm fine? Because I'm not."

"Then talk to me!" My voice cracked. "Please, Hendrix, I'm trying-"

"Stop trying." His words were sharp, final. "Just... stop."

I stood there, stunned, as he walked past me without another word. My chest felt heavy, and my breath began coming in uneven gasps. I barely made it to the nearest bathroom before the tears started pouring.

I locked myself in a stall and slumped to the floor. My hands gripped my knees as I cried harder than I had in years. The sound of my sobs echoed off the tiles, but I didn't care. I felt like I was crumbling from the inside out. When my phone buzzed in my pocket, I wiped my face and glanced at the screen. Thomas. His name lit up, but I couldn't bring myself to answer. I hit decline and tossed the phone aside, letting the tears take over again.

...

(Ava's POV)

Dr. Joe's office always had this eerie sterility to it, like it wasn't just a place for work but for calculated destruction. Sitting across from him, I felt like a bug under a magnifying glass. His piercing blue eyes never missed a thing. "This next task requires concentration, Ava," he said and slid a small box across the desk. "You'll switch the injection in Room 8's treatment cart. The original dosage needs to be... adjusted."

I didn't ask why. I'd learned not to question him. Instead, I nodded and slid the box into my bag. My heart was pounding as if it wanted to escape my chest.

"Remember," he added and leaned forward with that wolfish smirk of his. "Your mother's future depends on your ability to follow instructions."

His words twisted in my gut like a knife. The constant reminder of her debt, of her shame, crushed me every time I thought about it. I'd do anything to save her. Anything. But at what cost?

Later, as I sat in the dorm room staring at the box, Dilrah walked in. She gave me a long look. Her usual timid demeanor was now quiet observation.

"You look like you haven't slept in days," she said bluntly and sat on the edge of her bed.

I tried to brush it off. "I'm fine."

"You're not," she countered. "Whatever it is you're doing... it's eating you alive."

Her words hit harder than I wanted to admit. I felt exposed, like she could see the cracks in the shield I'd built around myself. I forced a laugh, but it sounded hollow even to me. "You don't know what you're talking about." She didn't press, but the way she watched me made my skin crawl. Maybe she didn't know the details, but she could sense it-how close I was to falling apart.

.

(Thomas's POV)

I found her in the bathroom, curled up on the floor of one of the stalls. The muffled sound of her crying made my chest ache. I tapped lightly on the door. "Angel?" There was a pause before she answered hoarsely. "Go away, Thomas."

I didn't leave. Instead, I leaned against the door, speaking softly. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Please," she whispered. The sound of her voice breaking was a stab to my heart. "Just... leave me alone."

I rested my hand on the door, wishing I could reach through it and hold her. "You don't have to do this alone, Angel. Whatever you're feeling, whatever's hurting you... let me in." There was silence on the other side, then the soft click of the lock. I pushed the door open gently and found her sitting on the floor with her face buried in her hands.

I crouched down in front of her, hesitating before reaching out. "Hey," I said softly. "Talk to me."

She shook her head as more tears streamed down her face. "I'm a terrible person, Thomas. I'm selfish and... and broken. I ruin everything."

I grabbed her hands and pulled them away from her face. "Stop. You're not terrible, Angel. You're human. You've been through so much, and you're doing the best you can."

She tried to pull away, but I held on tighter. "I don't deserve you," she said in a whisper. "Or Hendrix. I don't deserve anyone."

"Don't say that," I said firmly. "You deserve everything good in this world, Angel. And I'll remind you of that every day if I have to."

Her shoulders shook as she let out a broken sob. Slowly, I pulled her into my arms and held her as she cried against my chest. "I've got you," I whispered. "I've got you."

As she calmed down, I pressed my chin against the top of her head. My thoughts slowly drifted to Hendrix. The tension between us was suffocating, and I hated how it affected Angel. I wanted to fix it, but I didn't know how. Part of me

wondered if moving to another room would help, but the thought of leaving Angel felt like tearing myself in two. (And Bundah and Eddie too)

For now, I held her, hoping my presence was enough to keep her from falling apart entirely.