Chapter 2 - Chapter two

*Trigger warnings: attempted drink spiking, underage drinking, anxiety attacks, violence, injury, swearing. *

I hurled myself through the entrance and leaped over the overturned, long-dead refrigerator in front of me, which had acted as an ineffective barricade. My legs drove me through the room and out the other side into the short corridor. I couldn't stop myself from eating the fridge's expired contents, which, despite their stink, appealed to me after several days without meals. Despite my hunger, the shrieks of misery and screams for compassion around me pushed my body forward and gave me an unexpected burst of energy. We were at battle with each other. In front of a small bathroom, I came to a standstill. There was a noise. There's something lurking behind the shower curtain. My fear grew worse, and visions of the enemy began to fill my head. Merciless animals dressed in human skin, consuming indiscriminately, with no regard for appeals or arguments. Zombies. It had all started with a virus, as we had predicted. The first infected were a bit of a stereotype. They had lost all sense of humanity. Just irrational hatred, deformed bodies, and a primitive desire to devour others. Our generation had spent years preparing for this monster, almost obsessively. The initial wave was wiped out with such ease that it was almost comical. We had not anticipated the need to change. We weren't expecting the beast we created by eradicating the instantly recognisable zombie. A creature with a higher level of dexterity. Because longer range strikes were less likely to be deadly, the majority of the first zombies were slain at close range. Even before the pandemic, we had conditioned ourselves to associate "infection" with "death" when it came to zombies. When a person's eyes glazed over and they began biting, they "died," not when a bullet was fired into their brain. Yes, the new strain of the virus still controlled the body, but it gave the host authority over other faculties. Perhaps you could shoot a horribly deranged caricature of your best friend, spouse, or child. But what if there was a soul lurking behind those eyes? If they sobbed and screamed in their own voices even as they attacked? All the virus required was a brief pause. I'm sure you'd be hesitant. That's exactly what I did. As my arm yanked back the shower curtain and my hands lunged for the frightened youngster, all I could do was watch. Why, before the virus used my mouth to rip torn, bloody hunks off his flesh, I could only beg forgiveness. Why couldn't I puke when my hunger faded into the sickeningly familiar taste of human flesh? We were at battle with each other. And I am the adversary.

I groaned, tossing my phone onto my nightstand and burying my face into my pillow. Mysterious boyfriend? As if. Miras and I were barely tolerating each other on a good day. But Nakita was going to have a field day with this.

The scent of coffee and something buttery drifted up from the kitchen, luring me out of bed. I trudged downstairs, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, only to freeze at the sight of my dad sitting at the dining table, sipping his coffee and scrolling through his tablet.

That in itself wasn't unusual. What set off alarms in my head was the fact that he looked up the second I walked in—like he'd been waiting for me.

I hesitated. "What?"

He gestured to the seat across from him. "Sit."

I sat. Mostly because arguing this early in the morning required energy I didn't have yet.

"I need you to do something for me," Dad said, setting his tablet down.

That woke me up a little. Nothing good ever started with those words. "That depends."

"It's about Miras."

Of course it was.

I exhaled sharply, reaching for a slice of toast from the plate in front of him. "What about him?"

"I hired him to work security for the trip. He'll be helping with logistics, keeping an eye on the students, that sort of thing."

I nearly choked on my toast. "You what?"

Dad raised a brow. "He needed a job. I needed someone I could trust."

"You want me to keep an eye on him," I guessed, already feeling the beginnings of a headache.

"Just make sure he stays out of trouble."

I groaned, dropping my head against the table. "Dad. No."

"It's not a request."

I peeked up at him. "I'm supposed to be focusing on the competition. Not babysitting your latest charity case."

"Miras isn't a charity case."

"Really? Because that's exactly what this sounds like."

 I scowled as he walked out, leaving me to stew in my misery.

Fantastic.

Miras's face was way too smug for this early in the morning.

"I saved you the ones with leather sleeves," he said, holding up my team jacket like he deserved a medal.

I snatched it from his hands. "I'm team captain. I always get the ones with leather sleeves."

I yanked the hood over my head and zipped up the jacket, bracing against the cold. Miras, meanwhile, was still grinning like he hadn't just been forced into this trip as a glorified security guard.

"You're famous now," I muttered, shoving my phone in his face.

"Yeah, I heard."

He didn't even flinch at the headline, just glanced at it like it was the weather report and shrugged. I scowled. Of course, he wasn't bothered.

"So you are secretly dating?"

I turned to glare at him. "I will throw you in traffic."

He smirked, completely unbothered. "Aw, she cares."

I was going to kill him.

Before I could make good on my threat, Mr. Hebert blew his whistle, calling the team to load up. Finally—an escape.

I swung my bag over my shoulder and stomped toward the bus. Miras strolled behind me, somehow managing to look both lazy and entertained at the same time.

"Gonna be a fun trip, huh?" he drawled.

I didn't bother turning around. "For one of us."

I slid into a window seat, hoping for five minutes of peace before Mr. Hebert started his usual This is your last competition, seniors, make it count speech. Unfortunately, peace was too much to ask for.

A shadow fell over me. I looked up just in time to see Miras drop into the seat next to mine.

I scowled. "Why are you here?"

He stretched out his legs, looking way too comfortable. "Because I'm security, remember? Gotta keep an eye on you."

I rolled my eyes. "You're not security, you're my dad's personal headache delivery system."

He smirked. "And yet, here we are." Miras, the absolute menace, draped an arm over the back of the seat. "Relax, Captain. We've got a long ride. Might as well make the most of it."

I turned back to glare at him. "Miras, I swear—"

This trip was going to be actual hell.

The bus lurched to a stop in front of a gas station, and before Mr. Hebert even finished his sentence about a "quick ten-minute break," half the team was already unbuckling their seatbelts.

I didn't bother rushing—what was the point? Gas station snacks were overpriced, and I had packed my own food like a responsible person. But, of course, Miras shot up from his seat, stretching like he'd been forced to endure some unbearable hardship.

"Come on," he said, nudging my arm. "Let's go."

I gave him a blank look. "Let's not."

"You don't want snacks?"

"I have snacks."

Miras squinted at me like I had personally offended him. "And you weren't going to share?"

"No."

He pressed a hand to his chest, mock-offended. "You're just gonna sit here alone while the rest of us feast?"

"Yes. Happily."

Miras sighed like I was being difficult on purpose (which, to be fair, I was) and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Fine. But if I come back with the best snacks you've ever seen, don't come begging."

"I would rather starve."

"Dramatic." He grinned and followed the others off the bus.

I leaned back, enjoying the few minutes of solitude. But, because the universe hated me, it didn't last.

Miras was back within five minutes, dropping into the seat next to me and shoving a plastic bag in my lap.

I frowned. "What is this?"

He popped open a bottle of soda, looking way too smug. "Emergency rations."

I peeked inside: a pack of sour gummy worms, a chocolate bar, and—of all things—a banana.

I lifted it with two fingers. "What is this?"

"A fruit."

I gave him a deadpan look. "I know what it is. Why is it in here?"

"You eat like a grandma, Cherish. You love bananas."

I groaned, tossing it back in the bag. "I hate that you know that."

Miras just grinned, stealing one of my gummy worms before I could stop him.

****

"Everyone put your luggage in your assigned room. There will be no switching rooms. We meet back out here in twenty minutes. We need to be on the bus at--"I didn't hear the rest of Mr. Hebert's sentences as I walked away. Miras jogging up beside me. "Do you want me to carry that for you?"

I shot him a look. "No."

Miras grinned, completely unbothered, and easily swung his own duffel over his shoulder. "You sure? You look like you're struggling."

I adjusted my grip on my suitcase and kept walking. "I'm fine."

"You say that, but I can see you debating whether to drag it the rest of the way."

I exhaled sharply, forcing myself to ignore him. We reached the hallway where the room assignments were posted. I scanned the list quickly, finding my name next to---

"Uh-oh," he said, way too pleased.

I didn't like that tone. At all.

I crossed my arms. "What?"

Miras turned to me, full grin back in place. "Guess who's rooming together?"

I blinked. "Not us." Of course my dad would convince the school to let us room together. He probably bribed them. Miras just laughed, tossing his bag into his room before leaning against the doorframe, watching me unlock mine.

"Don't you have a girlfriend," I murmured as I riffled through my suitcase. "Whose name is, I don't know--- the person who has made my life hell since I was five."

Miras let out a low chuckle from the doorway, completely unfazed. "Ah, so you do keep track of my love life."

I shot him a glare over my shoulder. "Don't flatter yourself. Leave."

He held up his hands in mock surrender. "Fine, fine. Just checking in on my favorite babysitter."

I groaned. "You are not my responsibility."

"Tell that to your dad."

I threw a rolled-up pair of socks at him. He dodged, laughing, and backed out of the room. "See you in twenty, Captain."

The door clicked shut behind him, and I let out a long, suffering sigh.

This trip was going to kill me.

Miras tilted his head slightly, eyes flicking to me as I walked past him in the hall, but he didn't say anything. Probably because Nakita was still screaming in his ear.

"I don't care what the article says, Miras! This is so embarrassing!"

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "For who, exactly?"

"For me!" Nakita shrieked. "Do you know how many people have asked me if we broke up? And I have to tell them we weren't even dating in the first place—do you know how humiliating that is?"

I stopped a few feet away, pretending to be very interested in the loose thread on my sleeve. This I had to hear.

Miras ran a hand through his hair. "I don't see the problem. If we weren't dating, then there's nothing to break up over."

"You idiot! That's not the point!"

I bit back a laugh. Oh, this was gold.

Miras must have sensed my amusement, because he turned slightly, raising a brow. "Enjoying the show?" he muttered.

"Oh, immensely."

He sighed again, turning his attention back to the phone. "Nakita, I gotta go."

"No, we are not done talking about this!"

"Sure we are." And with that, he hung up.

I snorted. "Bold move."

"She's gonna kill me later, isn't she?"

"Oh, absolutely."

Miras exhaled, stuffing his phone into his pocket. "Cool, cool. Guess I'll start running now."

I rolled my eyes and started toward the bus. "I'd pay to see that."

He fell into step beside me, grinning. "Lucky for you, I think you just might."

The trip to the White House was supposed to be educational. Enlightening, even. Instead, I spent most of it trying to keep my team in line while Miras trailed behind, looking like he wanted to be anywhere else. And then—just as I was starting to relax—he vanished. One minute, he was walking a few feet behind me, hands in his pockets, pretending to listen to the tour guide. The next? Gone. No text, no "be right back," nothing.

By the time we got back to the hotel, I was seething. I wasnt sure what opened the door first, me kicking it or the key card unlocking it.

"Where the hell were you?" I demanded, crossing my arms.

Miras blinked, clearly not expecting an ambush. "Nice to see you too, Captain."

I ignored that. "You disappeared during a government tour, Miras. Do you want to get arrested?"

Miras sighed, rubbing his temples. "I went for a walk, Cherish. I didn't rob the place."

"Oh, a walk?" I repeated, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Around the White House? That's not suspicious at all."

"I didn't go inside classified areas, if that's what you're implying."

I scoffed. "Oh, no, I was thinking bigger."

Miras raised a brow. "Oh, this should be good."

I folded my arms. "Are you a drug dealer?"

Miras chocked on his water, "A what?"

Miras let out a slow breath, staring at the ceiling like he was asking for divine patience. "Cherish."

I tapped my foot, waiting.

He sat up, resting his elbows on his knees. "If I were a drug dealer, don't you think I'd be a little less obvious about it?"

"That's exactly what a drug dealer would say."

Miras shook his head, muttering something under his breath before meeting my gaze again. "I went to get food."

I frowned. "What?"

He reached into his bag and pulled out a paper bag from some overpriced local deli. "Food. To eat. Because I was hungry." He tossed it onto the bed like proof of his innocence.

I stared at it. "...Oh."

Miras flopped back onto the bed with a dramatic groan. "You owe me for this accusation."

I scowled. "I owe you nothing."

"You owe me dinner."

I threw my hands up. "You left without telling anyone! What was I supposed to think?"

Miras smirked. "Not that, but hey, I admire the creativity."

I groaned, turning for the door. "Next time, I hope you get arrested."

"Aw, you'd miss me."

I slammed the door behind me.

The pub inside the hotel had the kind of dim, warm lighting that made everything look a little more expensive than it actually was. Our group had taken over a couple of tables in the corner, exhausted from the day but happy to finally eat something decent.

I was halfway through my burger when I felt it—a presence.

Two guys, maybe a few years older than me, slid up to the table. One had a cocky smirk, the other a lazy confidence that immediately made my skin crawl.

"Hey there," Smirk Guy said, leaning a little too close. "You're way too pretty to be sitting here looking so serious."

I raised a brow. "I'm eating."

Lazy Confidence Guy chuckled. "That's cute. You visiting?"

I sighed, already irritated. "With my school team." I gestured vaguely toward my teammates.

That should have been a hint. A very obvious one. But, of course, guys like this didn't understand hints.

Smirk Guy pulled out the chair next to me, making himself comfortable. "How about you let us show you around? D.C. is a big city—you might need a couple of tour guides."

I barely resisted the urge to roll my eyes. "I'm good." Is what I said. Instead of 'I've met every US president since I was twelve so why don't you fuck of.'

I was halfway through my burger when it happened—one of them, the guy with the cocky smirk, leaned in too close to my drink. He said something to his friend, but I couldn't hear it over the chatter of the pub. He discreetly dropped something into my glass—something small, something foreign.

My stomach dropped.

Miras's entire demeanor shifted. I saw the muscle in his jaw tighten as his eyes locked on the drink. It was barely a second, but the change was so obvious. His hand shot out, knocking the glass aside just as I reached for it. The drink sloshed, spilling across the table and onto me.

"Hey!" I snapped, looking up in confusion.

"Don't drink that," Miras said, his voice low and tight. He didn't explain further, but his eyes were fixed on the guys, who had now turned away, clearly not expecting anyone to notice.

"What the hell is going on?" I demanded, but Miras wasn't paying attention to me anymore. He stood up, the tension in his shoulders palpable, and without a word, he strode over to the two guys at the bar.

Before I could stop him, Miras shoved the smirking guy hard against the bar, causing him to stumble forward. The guy's friend froze, eyes widening.

"Hey, what the hell, man?" Smirk Guy snapped, barely able to catch his balance.

"You're lucky I don't kill you right now," Miras growled, voice dangerously calm. His fist clenched at his side, like he was holding himself back from doing something much worse. "What did you put in her drink?"

The guy's face paled, and his friend took a half step back, hands raised in a placating gesture. "Dude, it was just—"

"Just what?" Miras's voice had dropped an octave, the warning unmistakable. "You don't get to put shit in anyone's drink. Not her's, not anyone else's."

"Yo, chill—"

"No," Miras cut him off, his grip tightening. "You don't get to walk away from this."

I finally stood up, but I couldn't get to Miras in time before Smirk Guy shoved him back. "Who the hell do you think you are?"

Miras's eyes flared with a dangerous glint. "I'm the guy who's about to break your face if you don't come clean."

I rushed forward, trying to grab Miras's arm to pull him back. "Miras, stop! You're gonna get kicked out!"

But Miras didn't budge. He was focused entirely on the two guys, who were now looking around nervously, clearly realizing they were out of their depth.

"You're gonna tell me what you put in that drink," Miras said, taking another step forward. "Now."

Smirk Guy swallowed hard. His friend shifted uncomfortably, avoiding Miras's gaze. Finally, the guy spoke up, barely above a whisper. "It's just—just some shit to make her pass out. Nothing serious. We were just trying to—"

Miras didn't wait for the guy to finish before pushing him again, hard enough to knock the air out of him. "You tried to drug her?"

The guy finally raised his hands in surrender, terrified. "It wasn't gonna do much! Just make her dizzy. We—"

"That's enough," Miras snapped, voice hard. He gave one final shove before letting the guy stumble back. "You're lucky you're not in a hospital right now."

Smirk Guy's friend backed off completely, realizing Miras wasn't going to budge. They exchanged a few more silent, nervous looks before they bolted for the door, leaving the pub without another word.I stood there, completely frozen, staring at Miras with wide eyes. My heart was still racing, the adrenaline starting to fade, leaving behind a sickening pit in my stomach.

"What the hell was that?"

"Eat your food, Cherie." 

"I'm not hungry anymore."

I stripped off my clothes as soon as I entered the room, the weight of the day pressing down on me. A shower was exactly what I needed to clear my head, to wash off the frustration, the tension, and everything else that had piled up.

I turned the water on hot and stepped in, letting the steam fill the bathroom, trying to forget about the fight downstairs, the weird dynamic with Miras, and the fact that my dad had dumped his entire "look out for Miras" burden on me. The warm water hit my skin, soothing the knots in my shoulders. I closed my eyes, letting myself relax for the first time in what felt like days.

It wasn't long before I heard the door open, followed by a hesitant knock on the bathroom door.

I froze.

"Cherish?" Miras's voice.

I groaned, trying not to panic.

"What?" I called, trying to sound as casual as possible, but there was no hiding the tension in my voice.

There was a long pause, like he was trying to figure out what to say. "I—I was just gonna ask if you were—uh—busy."

The awkwardness in his voice made me groan internally. "Obviously I'm busy," I shot back. "I'm in the shower, Miras."

"Oh, yeah. Right. That was stupid," he mumbled. I could hear the shuffle of his shoes as he took a step back from the door.

I heard a soft, hesitant laugh. "You didn't knock, did you?"

"Of course I didn't," he replied quickly, his voice sounding just a little too defensive. "I didn't think—uh, I wasn't expecting..."

I sighed, rubbing my temples with my fingers. This was not how I envisioned any of this going. "Miras, seriously, what do you want?"

There was a long pause before he spoke again, quieter this time. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay. After everything earlier. You know, the whole... almost drugged thing."

The reminder made me stiffen, but I quickly let it go. Not now.

"I'm fine," I said, my voice muffled by the sound of water. " Can I finish my damn shower please?"

"Yeah--yeah, sorry. Go ahead."

I was just finishing toweling off when I heard the unmistakable sound of Miras's voice, raised and agitated. The argument coming through the thin hotel walls was clear enough—he was on the phone again, talking to Nakita, and by the tone of things, the conversation wasn't going well.

I groaned, running a hand through my damp hair as I wrapped myself in the towel, already annoyed. I had no desire to be dragged into whatever was going on between them, especially not after the chaos of the day. But of course, that wasn't how it worked.

"I told you, Nakita, it's not like that," Miras was saying, his voice sharp. "You know I didn't want this—this whole thing with Cherish. It's just a rumor, okay?"

I heard Nakita's voice, high and angry, though muffled through the walls. "I don't care what you say, Miras! I saw the article! Everyone is talking about it! And you're telling me that it's nothing? After everything you said to me about 'keeping things quiet'?"

Miras's response was low but forceful. "It's a misunderstanding, Nakita. It's not even real."

I leaned against the doorframe, starting to feel the familiar frustration settle into my chest. It wasn't enough that I was stuck here on this trip, babysitting Miras for my dad. Now I had to deal with this too? I didn't care about the stupid article, I didn't care about Nakita's insecurities, and I definitely didn't care about Miras's drama.

But the argument kept going.

I finally crawled into bed, pulling the covers over me and trying to ignore the low hum of voices coming from from the balcony. 

I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping sleep would take over, but all I could hear was Miras's frustrated tone, followed by Nakita's high-pitched, indignant responses.

"No, Nakita, I'm not trying to make you look bad!" Miras's voice carried through the walls.

"I don't care what you say, Miras! This is getting out of control!" Nakita's shriek was almost enough to make me throw the pillow over my head.

It was only getting worse.

I turned onto my side, trying to tune them out, but the sound of their argument was like a loud buzzing in my head. I pulled my pillow over my ears, but it didn't help.

Miras's voice cut through again, louder this time. "I didn't do anything wrong, okay? This whole article is nothing!"

Nakita fired back, "Don't you dare tell me I'm overreacting. You are flirting with her!"

That was it. I couldn't take it anymore.

I threw the covers off and stormed out of bed, heading straight for the door. The noise was getting unbearable. 

I yanked the door open and marched over to Miras, who was standing by the window, phone pressed to his ear. His face looked annoyed, but there was a flash of something in his eyes when he saw me standing in the doorway.

"I swear to God, Miras, I'm about to lose it," I snapped, already at my breaking point.

He looked like he was going to say something, but I didn't wait. I walked straight over to where his phone sat on the table, snatched it up, and, without warning, tossed it out the window.

There was a stunned silence.

Miras blinked, mouth agape, staring at the now-empty spot where his phone had been just moments ago. "What the hell, Cherish?"

I crossed my arms, glaring at him. "You're making everyone miserable with this ridiculous drama."

He stared out the window, probably already processing what had just happened. "You... you really threw my phone out the window?"

"Yeah. And you're welcome." I shot him a look that said everything.

When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter, almost sheepish. "I'll—uh, I'll go get my phone."

The next morning, the buzz of competition filled the air the second I opened my eyes. The quiet of the hotel room had been replaced by the distant chatter of teammates gathering, packing up, and preparing for the first day of the decathlon.

I stretched and groaned, fighting the urge to stay in bed for just a few more minutes. The events ahead weren't going to wait, and as much as I wanted to ignore the chaos, I couldn't.

I shoved the covers off and dragged myself to the bathroom, splashing my face with cold water. The reflection in the mirror looked like a person who hadn't slept all night. Miras and Nakita's arguing had kept me up until God knows when, and I had barely gotten a solid hour of sleep. Great.

After splashing on some cold water, I dressed quickly, pulling on my team jacket and mentally preparing for the chaos ahead. The competition was important to me—not just for the obvious reasons, but because it was one of the few things that kept my focus intact. Nothing, not even Miras's drama, could ruin it.

I grabbed my bag and swung the door open. The hallway was already filled with students, some running last-minute drills, others huddled in groups, talking strategy. As I passed by, I caught a glimpse of Miras in the lobby, talking with Josiah. He looked... okay, considering the situation. His hair was slightly disheveled, but his usual smirk was back in place.

I rolled my eyes and walked past him, but Miras caught sight of me.

"Hey," he called, catching up to me in a couple of long strides. "Good morning, Captain. My aunt texted me, she wants to know how you're doing."

"Tell her I'd be great if her nephew didn't keep me up all night."

He laughed, then dropped his voice to a more serious tone. "Look, I know last night was... a mess. I'm not going to make it worse today. Promise."

I raised an eyebrow at him. "We'll see."

He smiled, trying to lighten the mood. "You'll just have to keep me in check, won't you?"

I shook my head and pushed open the door to the dining area where everyone was gathering. It was time to get focused.

After a quick breakfast, Mr. Hebert called everyone to gather, and I could feel the energy in the room shift as the seriousness of the day settled in.

"Let's go, team!" Mr. Hebert said, a grin on his face. "Big day ahead! I know you all can do it. Stay sharp, stay focused."

The bus hadn't even started moving when Mr. Hebert launched into his inspirational speech—the same one we'd all memorized by now.

"Each and every one of you is capable of carrying this team to the finals. For some of you, this will be the last competition of your high school career."

His voice wavered. "We're even losing our team captain this year. The one who's given us a four-year winning streak since arriving."

Miras shot up from his seat and yelled, "Whoo!" before slamming his hands together in an exaggerated clap.

The rest of the team clapped too—more out of obligation than enthusiasm.

I groaned, pressing my forehead against the seat in front of me.

"Thank you, Miras," Mr. Hebert sighed. "Now sit down."

"Please tell me he's not going to keep going," I muttered under my breath, eyes closing as I tried to tune out Mr. Hebert's voice. The last thing I needed right now was a pep talk that was more about nostalgia than strategy.

But of course, Mr. Hebert was nothing if not relentless. "I know it's tough. It's been a long season, but this is where we show what we're really made of. I'm proud of each and every one of you, and I have no doubt that we'll finish strong."

I could practically hear the 'And that's final!' in his tone. I forced myself to sit up, glancing at Miras. He was grinning like an idiot, clearly enjoying the moment, and I couldn't help but roll my eyes.

"Captain, huh?" I said, half to myself.

He caught my eye, raising an eyebrow. "Hey, don't act like you didn't love the attention. Besides, we're a team—there's no one person who carries us."

His casual confidence was a stark contrast to the nerves gnawing at me. I wanted to tell him that it was more than just the title that bothered me, that it was the weight of everything that had been piling up, but there was no time. The bus was already pulling out, and I could feel the familiar buzz of the competition building again.

By the time we got to the stadium, Miras's nerves had kicked in hard.

"You need to pull it together," I said, sitting with him in the men's bathroom. Every time someone walked in, I flipped them off before they could say anything. "We cannot be down a player tomorrow."

Miras's response was to continue throwing up.

I sighed.

Our names were announced over the speakers. We had five minutes.

"Come on." I nudged his foot. "I'll get you a 7-Up."

Somehow, despite his nerves, we won our first match.

"Not bad for a guy who almost barfed his way out of the competition," I teased as we made our way back to the bus, watching as he demolished the last bite of his burrito, looking more like his usual self.

"Don't remind me," Miras muttered, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "I'm never eating burritos again."

"Right," I shot back. "Just like you were never gonna throw up again, huh?"

He shot me a glare, but it didn't have the same edge as before. I knew he appreciated me sticking by him—whether it was bringing him 7-Up or just making sure he didn't spiral.

"Only one more day," I said, pulling back to catch my breath, my voice still a little unsteady from the rush of it all. "Thank god." 

Back at the hotel, the exhaustion from the day's competition hung heavy in the air. My body ached from the hours of pressure, my mind still buzzing with the adrenaline of the matches. I could barely keep my eyes open when I walked into the hotel room, just wanting to crash on the bed and let sleep take over.

But of course, Miras wasn't about to let me off that easily.

"You coming?" he asked, leaning against the doorframe, his eyes shining with mischief.

I glanced at him, my brows knitting together. "Coming where?"

"To the party," he said, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. "The team's all going. You know we can't just sit around. It's the last night before the finals!"

I stared at him, narrowing my eyes. "Miras, I am so tired. I don't know if I can deal with a bunch of people tonight. I just want to sleep."

He took a step closer, his expression softening. "Come on, Cherish. It's just for a little while. It'll be fun. I promise. Besides, you've earned it. "

I rubbed my temples, the idea of going out swirling in my head like a storm cloud. The last thing I wanted was to be surrounded by loud music. But Miras was giving me that look—the one where he cared, but also the one that said he wouldn't let it go until I caved.

"Just one drink," I sighed, my voice barely above a whisper, "and then I'm out of there. I'm serious."

Miras grinned, his relief obvious. "Deal."

A few minutes later, we were out the door and heading down the hall, joining the rest of the team who had already gathered by the elevators. The music and laughter from the party grew louder as we walked toward the lounge area, and despite myself, a part of me began to feel the slightest bit of excitement.

The moment we stepped inside, the noise hit me like a wall. The room was full of people, most of them high school students from other schools, some even older.

Miras grabbed my wrist before I could retreat. "See? Not so bad."

The party, though loud and chaotic, began to blur together in my mind as the drinks flowed more freely. It started innocently enough—a few sips here and there, a light buzz that made the music a little more bearable. But somewhere between Miras's teasing smile and the easy laughter of the team, I found myself taking another drink. And then another.

I glanced around the party, feeling a strange warmth spread through me. The world was a little wobbly, and the edges of things seemed a bit blurry. I leaned against the nearest table to steady myself, trying to keep my head clear.

Miras had warned me. He'd seen the change in my eyes when I took that second drink—then the third—and the fourth, and now, well... I wasn't entirely sure how many I'd had.

"What did I tell you?" Miras's voice cut through the fog in my mind. His hands gently steadied me by the shoulders, his touch firm and warm, but he didn't seem mad. His expression was more concerned than anything. "You're drunk."

I tried to laugh, but it came out more like a giggle that sounded way too loud in my own ears. "I'm fine," I slurred, blinking up at him as if that would clear the haze in my brain. "Just a little buzzed, that's all."

He raised an eyebrow, glancing at me with a mixture of disbelief and amusement. "Yeah? Well, I'd say you're well past that point, Cherish."

I tried to walk, but my legs felt like they were made of jelly. I stumbled, and Miras caught me before I could faceplant on the floor.

"Okay, that's it," he said, now holding me up as if I weighed nothing. "We're getting out of here. You're not staying another minute in this place."

I tried to protest, to tell him that I didn't want to leave, but the words didn't come out right. Instead, I just let him guide me out of the party, my feet dragging behind me, and I couldn't help but laugh at how ridiculous everything felt.

He led me down the hotel hallway, his hand at my back to steady me, as I wobbled along beside him. "You're gonna owe me big time for this," he muttered under his breath, though his voice was gentle, the teasing edge missing.

"You're such a buzzkill," I mumbled, my head spinning.

"You're lucky I care," he said, his voice softer now. "I could've let you just fall into a corner and let the night handle itself. But that's not me, Cherish."

We reached my room, and he nudged the door open with his shoulder, guiding me inside. I barely registered the soft click of it closing behind us before I collapsed onto the bed, groaning.

Miras sighed, running a hand through his hair as he took a seat at the edge of the bed. "Just stay there, okay? I'll get you some water."

"Water's overrated," I slurred, a grin creeping up on my face. "I'm not gonna die from one night of fun."

"Uh-huh," Miras said with a shake of his head, but I could see the concern still hanging in his eyes. He got up anyway, rummaging around for a bottle of water.

Miras sat down next to me, his eyes scanning my face as if trying to figure out how much of me was still there. "You're really not good at pacing yourself, huh?"

I gave him a weak smile, my cheeks flushed. "No. No, I'm really not."

He chuckled, but it wasn't mocking. It was the kind of laugh someone gives when they're trying to keep things light, even when they know the other person's feeling miserable. "It's alright. You're gonna be fine. Just drink the water and rest. I'll keep an eye on you."

I nodded, too tired and out of it to argue. The bed felt like the most comfortable thing in the world, and I wanted to just melt into it. But Miras wouldn't let me.

"Hey, hey. Don't sleep just yet," he said, his voice firm but kind. "I need you to drink more water. You're gonna feel a lot worse if you don't stay hydrated."

I took another sip, my head resting against the back of the headboard. "Sorry," I mumbled, my words slurring together. "I didn't mean to... screw up... the night."

Miras's expression softened. "You didn't screw anything up. You're just... being a normal, tired, stressed-out person who maybe had a little too much fun tonight. Happens to the best of us."

I chuckled weakly, feeling my eyelids grow heavy. "You're not mad?"

"No," he said, shaking his head. "Just... making sure you don't die on me tonight, alright?"

The harsh light filtering through the curtains hit me like a freight train, and I groaned, burying my face in the pillow. My head throbbed with the force of a drumbeat, and my mouth felt like I'd been chewing on sandpaper. Every sound, every movement felt like it was too much.

I tried to open my eyes, but the effort was too much. My stomach churned, and I curled into a ball, hoping the world would stop spinning.

"Ugh," I mumbled, rolling over. The room was dimmer now, and I could tell it was late morning. I felt a cool hand brush my forehead, and the familiar scent of Miras's cologne wafted through the air.

"Hey," he said softly, his voice a bit rough. "How are you feeling?"

I peeked one eye open, staring up at him, trying to focus. His face was blurry, but I could make out the concerned look in his eyes. "Like I got hit by a truck," I groaned, rubbing my temples. "What happened last night?"

Miras let out a light chuckle, though there was no humor in it. "You, my friend, decided to drink more than you could handle. And then I had to play babysitter." His voice was teasing, but there was a layer of exhaustion underneath.

I winced, sitting up a little and clutching my head as the world tilted. "I'm so sorry."

"You're lucky I'm a nice guy," he said, sounding genuinely relieved that I was awake. "Seriously though, you were a mess. But you're good now. Just... stay hydrated, okay?"

I nodded weakly, blinking against the light. "Water," I croaked, holding up a hand. "Please."

Without a word, Miras got up, grabbing the bottle of water from the bedside table and handing it to me. "Drink slowly. It'll help with the nausea."

I took a sip, feeling the cool water slide down my dry throat. It felt like I hadn't drunk anything in days. "I can't believe I let myself get like that," I muttered, my voice still rough.

"You were just unwinding," Miras said, his tone gentler than I expected. "You didn't mean to. Just... don't make it a habit. I don't think I can handle another round of 'Miras to the rescue.'"

I gave him a weak smile, though I still felt like a wreck. "Next time, I'll stick to water. Or, you know, a juice box."

****

I threw on the team's jacket, tying the hood around my neck like a security blanket. The others were already gathered in the hotel lobby, a mixture of nerves and excitement rippling through the group. The air felt thick with the weight of it all—this was it. The final round. Win or lose.

Miras was leaning against the wall, his posture relaxed, but there was a quiet intensity behind his eyes. 

"You good?" he asked, his voice steady.

I nodded, taking a deep breath. "Yeah. Let's just get this over with."

"We get to go home tomorrow," he tried.

It only took the bus ride from the hotel to the stadium before Miras completely lost himself. 

"Come on, we've made it this far." I shook him, but he barely reacted.

"I'm going to screw up," he breathed. "At the very end, I'm going to lose it for us."

"No, you're not."

His face was pale, his hands clenched into fists. We didn't have time for this.

"Listen to me," I said, my voice sharp, trying to break through the noise in his head. "You're not going to screw up. We've made it this far, and we didn't do that by giving up right before the finish line. I'm not going to let you quit now," I added, my voice softening, but the conviction still there. "Sucks to suck but you're coming out there with me. I'm not staying here in the mens bathroom with you."

Finally, Miras nodded, a faint, shaky smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Okay."

"Come on," I said softly, stepping back. "We have to go."

By the first intermission, we were ahead by two points. Our brains felt like dust.

"That was rough." Miras handed me a bottle of water and a slice of pizza.

"And that was only the first intermission." I took a sip. "They're really stepping it up this year."

"You guys are huffing like you just ran a marathon," Mr. Hebert said as he walked in.

The entire team shot him a look.

"Okay, sorry."

By the second intermission, our lead had shrunk to one point.

"Please don't go into a death round," someone groaned, collapsing onto a chair. "My brain feels like it's being burned at the stake."

We called it the death round because the questions made even me go: What the fuck?

And, of course, that's exactly what happened.

We were tied. 250 to 250.

Mr. Hebert had chewed his eraser down to nothing. Half the team looked ready to pass out. The other half was jittery with adrenaline.

At center stage, the announcer pulled a slip of paper from an envelope.

Silence.

Then:

"In the year 2064, a fleet of bio-engineered, semi-sentient jellyfish was discovered inhabiting a recently discovered moon of Jupiter. These jellyfish display advanced problem-solving capabilities, but they communicate exclusively through musical patterns. The question is: How do you propose we interpret their patterns and establish meaningful communication?"

I blinked twice, trying to make sense of what I was reading. What... the fuck?

The crowd seemed to hush, and I could hear Miras groan softly beside me, his voice low. "Seriously? Jellyfish. On Jupiter. That's... that's a thing now?"

My eyes darted back to the question, my mind still spinning in disbelief. There was no way this was real. Was this some kind of joke? No one had prepared us for this. Jellyfish on another moon? Musical patterns? This wasn't a science question—it was a nightmare wrapped in a weird, intergalactic riddle.

I blinked again, trying to refocus, the pressure rising in my chest. "What the actual hell?" I muttered, loud enough for Miras to hear. He gave me a sidelong glance, his expression a mix of disbelief and exhaustion.

"Yeah, I'm asking the same thing." He leaned over and whispered, his voice still full of dry humor. "Should we just write 'Ask the jellyfish' and be done with it?"

"This is about problem-solving, right?" I said, trying to find some sort of logic in the chaos. "I mean, it's... creative thinking. Maybe it's not about the jellyfish at all. Maybe it's about the communication part."

Miras looked at me, raising an eyebrow. "You're saying we interpret jellyfish music by... feeling the vibe? Like, it's a mood ring for the future?"

I shot him a glare. "I don't know, okay? I'm just... thinking out loud. What if we use a mix of scientific analysis and cultural understanding? We look for patterns in the way the jellyfish respond to certain environmental cues, like changes in light or temperature, and correlate them with the musical patterns they emit?"

Miras didn't look convinced, but I could see his mind working, trying to piece something together, anything that made sense.

I scribbled my answer, the words flowing from my hand as my brain struggled to catch up. By the time I'd finished, I had no idea if it was even remotely correct. But it was the best I could come up with, and right now, that had to be enough.

"Time's up!" the announcer's voice rang out.

The crowd erupted in noise as the teams handed in their answers, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife.

Miras turned to me, his expression a mixture of exhaustion and disbelief. "Well, that was... something."

"Tell me about it," I said, rubbing my forehead. "What the fuck was that question?"

He laughed, albeit weakly. "The weirdest thing I've ever seen. But hey, at least we can say we survived that."

We waited in silence as the results were tallied, and despite my nerves, a part of me couldn't help but feel proud. We'd faced the bizarre together. We hadn't cracked under the pressure, even when the question itself made us question our entire understanding of reality.

"We'll find out if jellyfish on Jupiter will be communicating with us anytime soon, I guess," I muttered under my breath. Miras snorted beside me.

Silence.

Then—

"Teams seven answer is correct."

My shoulders collapsed. My forehead hit the table.

Lights flashed, cameras clicked, the crowd roared.

Mr. Hebert shouted something with his clipboard raised above his head.

We won.

Each of us was presented with medals, and the school took home a massive trophy.

Back in the locker room, the team packed up, the air electric with celebration.

Miras held his phone above our heads.

"What are you doing?" I snapped.

"Sending a picture to Dewey."

"Who the hell is Dewey?"

"My best friend from my old school. He's super cool—you'd love him."

"Fine. But no picture."

"Come on, please? You don't even have to smile."

I sighed dramatically so he knew what a pain he was being. Still, I gave a small smile, holding up my medal in one hand and the trophy in the other.

"I love it," Miras grinned. "It looks great."

Mr. Hebert clapped his hands, practically bouncing on his feet. "Alright, team! One last stop before we head home."

As we followed him outside to the bus, the sky had darkened. Fireworks would be starting soon.

"I got us a viewing spot on top of a rooftop tower," Mr. Hebert announced proudly.

Miras was right behind me as we stepped onto the bus.

"This is gonna be cool," I said. "Seeing fireworks from this high up."

I turned to Miras. He wasn't there. I frowned. "Miras?"

I pulled out my phone and dialed his number. No answer. I called again. Nothing. Halfway through the third attempt, the elevator lights cut out. A murmur of unease swept through the group.

"Stay calm, everyone," Mr. Hebert said. "It's just an electrical issue. I'll call the office. We'll be out in five minutes tops."

Then—

A distant explosion.

The elevator shook. Another. Closer. Another. The elevator rattled violently.Nobody spoke. Not even Mr. Hebert. A fourth blast roared outside, right next to us. The force dropped us to the floor.

"We need to get out!" someone screamed. A girl started frantically pressing buttons. I reached into my school bag, slipping something into my pocket.

Then—

The wall exploded.

The elevator doors were ripped apart. The ground tilted—we were sliding.

The last thing I saw before the floor gave way was a figure standing in the wreckage.

A man.

Dressed in a black-and-white skeleton suit.

His claws—ten feet long—gleamed under the sparks of broken wires.

Blades spun behind him, sending gusts of wind through my curls.

Screams erupted around me.

The final elevator cable snapped.

We fell.

But just before we hit the abyss, a panel in the ceiling was ripped open. A masked face loomed above. A mask I had seen before. There was a chance it was Miras. As much as I didn't want to take that chance, I didn't have a choice.I gave him a slight nod, hoping he understood that I knew. Then, I pulled out my father's machinery. The weapon fired with a deafening crack, the blast illuminating the elevator in a blinding flash. Screams erupted behind me. The vibrations shot through my arms as I kept firing, the elevator swaying violently beneath my feet.

"Come on, come on!" The voice above sounded like Miras.

I kept firing. The masked man barely flinched. No reaction. No damage.

"Oh, shit."

My stomach twisted. I looked up—Miras was gripping the last girl, helping her through the ceiling hatch. He turned toward me—our eyes met. Then, before I could react, the masked man fired his own weapon. The shot hit me. A burning, searing force slammed into my ribs, throwing me backward. My body crashed into the elevator wall. The world blurred. My ears rang. I gasped, but the air was thick—something acrid filled my lungs, stinging my eyes.

I dropped my weapon.

My fingers trembled as I clutched my side, the pain radiating through my entire body.

"Cherish!"

Miras dropped back into the elevator, planting himself between me and the skull-faced man.

The elevator lurched, falling another few feet. I let out a strangled cry as my body jerked against the floor. Through my blurred vision, I saw Miras glance back at me. His suit clung to him, muscles tense, his entire body screaming ready to fight. But we didn't have time for a fight. We both knew it.

I sucked in a sharp breath. "It—hurts."

"I know." Miras kneeled in front of me, wincing as the masked man fired again. He took the blast for me, gritting his teeth against the pain. "I'm so sorry. I'm going to get you out of here."

His hands pressed against my side, moving mine away.

Blood.

Too much blood.

"No, no, no—" His voice cracked. His hands shook.

The masked man moved.

I barely had time to react—

"Watch out!"

I shoved Miras out of the way as the skull-faced man lunged. Pain exploded through my ribs as I hit the floor, his hands closing around my throat. I kicked, struggled, but my limbs felt weak. My pulse pounded in my ears, my vision tunneling.I was making it worse. I was bleeding out.

Miras ripped the man off me, locking his arm around his throat in a vicious headlock. They grappled, stumbling toward the gaping hole where the elevator shaft yawned open beneath them. I tried to move, to help, but my body refused. Agony shot through me like fire, pinning me in place.

Then—

Miras slammed the masked man to the ground, sending him sprawling.

A small window.

A chance.

Miras turned to me, moving fast.

His arms slid under my legs and back, lifting me effortlessly.

I barely registered it—just clung to him, my fingers gripping his arm, my forehead pressed against his chest .I felt him jump. The elevator dropped.

The masked man fell with it.