I kept waiting for it to stop.
You know, like when your phone glitches and you just… wait for it to fix itself. Like maybe if I blinked enough times or shook my head or something, everything would snap back to normal.
It didn't.
The whole class, I felt this weird pressure behind my eyes every time I looked at Lena. Not like the usual flashes—those are quick, sharp, over in a second. This was more like trying to hear a radio station that kept cutting in and out.
She didn't look at me once.
Not once.
And somehow that hurt worse than getting called out in front of everyone or catching her laughing at me behind someone's back.
After the bell rang, I waited. Let the crowd thin out. Tried to act like I wasn't watching her pack up her stuff. Tried to pretend I didn't notice she still tucked her pencil behind her ear. She used to say it looked dumb, but she did it anyway.
I walked out slow, pretending to scroll on my phone.
Then—
"Hey."
I stopped walking.
Took me a second to realize she actually said it. To me.
I turned around.
There she was. Bag slung over one shoulder. Same dark eyes. Still had that way of looking at you like she already knew what you were going to say before you said it.
"Hey," I said back.
She tilted her head a little. "Didn't think I'd see you again."
That hit harder than I wanted it to.
I tried a smirk. "Yeah, well. You came back. Guess fate's not done messing with me."
No reaction. No smile. Just a small nod.
Then she started walking past me.
I turned without thinking. "Wait."
She paused.
I opened my mouth.
Nothing came out.
Because right then—bam—another flash.
But it wasn't about her.
It was about me.
I saw myself standing alone in some hallway I didn't recognize. Fists clenched so tight my knuckles were white. Saw tears in my own eyes. Felt this ache in my chest so real I almost doubled over.
What the hell?
I blinked fast, shaking my head.
"You okay?" Lena asked. Quiet. Not fake concern. Not quite real either.
"Yeah," I said, too fast. "Just… spaced out."
She studied me for a second. Then said, "You used to do that a lot."
"What?"
"Stare off like you were somewhere else."
I didn't know how to respond to that.
Because yeah. I guess I did. Back then.
Before everything changed.
Before she left.
I finally managed, "Why'd you come back?"
She didn't answer right away.
Instead, she gave me this look—the kind that meant she knew part of the answer, and I wouldn't like the rest.
"I had to," she said.
That was it.
Then she walked off.
Left me there again.
And this time?
The flashes didn't stop.
They just kept coming.
One after another.
Like now that she was back, I couldn't turn them off anymore.