Perhaps the numbers were getting to his head, warping reality and his very ability to perceive the world, because he heard a voice conversing with his sister.

He rises to his feet and stretches, arching his back as a resounding crack fills the silence of the room. The white light radiating from his lamp illuminates the pages upon pages of scrawled notes, in almost meticulous handwriting. His hands rest upon his mouth, stifling a yawn, He blinks, attempting to free himself of his self-induced trance. The world is as hazy as a sleepless morning, further obscured by a thick layer of mist swirling with a lack of rest. For a moment, his house is silent, like it had been for the last few years.

But of course, light parts the darkness with a firm hand and a cheerful laugh. He creeps into the hallway, leaning against the wooden banister. A glimpse of her dark brown locks was all he needs to almost topple over.

It really is her.

His sister’s – luckily, not his stern father’s - voice echoes through the cavernous house, curious yet reserved. Her voice is smooth and professional, while he sounds shaky.

“Oh, so you’re the Leah that brought him to that party?” asks her sister.

“Yes, and I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” says his sister with a pained laugh. “Come inside. I’ll call him.”

“No, I can’t-“

“No, no!” Her voice is slightly forceful, like a mother lecturing her child’s rowdy friends. “Have a snack.” She carefully drapes his navy jacket on the banister and unzips her boots before neatly putting them in the corner. The sound of bare feet against floor is a blaring signal for Sam to stumble back into his room, closing the door with closed eyes.

He slumps in front of the blank door behind him, his back to the world.

Three knocks reverberated through his body.

To cleanse the filth of the night from his mind could never happen as long as she still prowled around him. Every pain that burned within his chest, a match carelessly thrown into an unlit hearth, seared into his soul how careless he had been. To think that Will had been the one that saved him, a stranger to which he owed his self-respect, made him want to wretch into his bathroom sink. To think that he’d wandered into the ruin he’d been saved from was dangerous.

“Sam.”

His hands gripped to the golden doorknob, twisting it as his feet planted themselves among the oak. The door creaks open hesitantly, as his sister casts her cynical gaze upon his tired expression.

“I don’t think I need to tell you about what to do.” She raises her keys into the air, dangling from her coffee fingers like windchimes. “I’m going out.” Her eyeliner was done, her hair was combed and secured with an elastic, and her phone’s neon earbuds dangled from a NASA sweatshirt – of course, she would be leaving. She clutches her black, leather laptop bag and her backpack. She takes a step closer to him before deftly punching him in the stomach.

He winces as she nods and turns away.

“Yeah, maybe I deserved that.” He follows her down the stairs before his sister swings the door open and leaves.

He turns and walks down the two hallways, dreading every step he took forward.

“Sam.”

It was her voice that ripped through the silence.

“I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for? It’s not your fault.” Her face is lowered to the floor, legs dangling from the high kitchen table, barely touching the floor. Her face is obscured by curls cascading over her shoulders. Her lips are frozen, unable to form words. “Why are you here?”

“What happened?” mumbles Leah.

“Can I tell you something?” says Sam quietly. Despite everything, the words were itching to fill the air, dying to leave the depths of his mind. He’d wanted to tell her before, but she was so close to figuring it out – he needs to speak.

“Yeah.”

“I used to live in Florida, with my mom and dad. They weren’t…the best people. A few years ago, it got really bad until we were taken out of their custody and put into our relative’s, Mr. Fernandez. My mom had to move back to Mexico because she wasn’t well off enough to apply for a visa and live here – she lived off my father.” His voice wobbles.

“I’m so sorry.” Leah doesn’t look at him, taken aback by his sudden candor.

But he can’t stop.

“They were alcoholics, so it makes sense that he was pissed. But…I never wanted to be like that. I’d tried it before, but that night, I was so tired that I-”

“You don’t have to explain.” The aura shifts – his haven has been compromised by the girl who suddenly pulled him into a hug.

He freezes, before collapsing into her warmth, like rays of sunshine wrapping around him as silent tears drip down her face.

But a feeling in his stomach tells him that not everything about them would be arches of pastel color.