A while later, Lyra was about to leave and acting on reflex, I reached out for her hand. My warm fingers wrapping around her fragile wrist, I silently begged her to stay, afraid that I wouldn't be able to find her again if I let her disappear from my sight.

"Diego?" She asked, concern written all over her face. I had never shown this needy, vulnerable side to her ever before. Maybe she thought I was being clingy or maybe she found it annoying but I couldn't filter my emotions anymore.

After what happened, after that dreadful turn of events, I had learnt the value of time and honesty the hard way. And it was moments like these that made all the suffering worthwhile. She turned to walk towards me, letting her grip on the doorknob go and freed her hand from my grasp.

A pang of sadness was about to hit me until she chose to intertwine our fingers instead. Fingers locked together, I managed to whisper her name out loud. "Lyra?"

"What's up with you?" She asked, a little scared, a little irritated.

"Wait some more, please?" With a nod, she walked back inside and sat beside me. Our arms rubbed in contact, as if they craved the proximity too but when Lyra didn't scoot away, I found my courage slowly grow. I hoped that my face didn't give away my thoughts else it would be clearly readable that I was blushing. Probably way too hard at the smallest of gestures.

"Hey, idiot." I nudged her with my elbow and she grimaced, not wanting to ruin the comfortable silence between us. "If there's ever anything-"

"Are you okay? You're acting so different today. So weird. Did anything happen at home? Did your dad-" She turned to face me this time.

"No. All good." I lied, biting my lip. "I was just saying, that- I understand you can't share everything that goes on in your head with me. Not that you can't. I mean, maybe you won't though because um, well, it isn't as easy to trust someone and-"

"I trust you, D." Her words felt like a dagger to my heart. Did she, really? If she did, why did she not tell me about the things that troubled her all along before giving up on herself? Why- No, now's not the time.

"All I am saying is I'm not a girl so my brain is probably wired differently and I may not understand everything that you go through."

She broke our contact now, pushing herself just a little but farther. Great going, Diego. "Your point being?"

"Though I will fully try to understand everything you share with me, if you ever need to talk to someone, tell someone something but can't say it to their face, here." I dug into my bag and pulled out a plain notebook.

"What's this?" She raised her eyebrows.

"Write whatever you feel in this and you'll feel like there's someone to hear you. It can be absolutely anything you want. Song lyrics, sad poems or anything that troubles you or keeps you up at night-"

"Bold of you to assume I have trouble sleeping. You're the one who has nightmares daily." Lyra spoke way too soon and I could point out the exact second regret took over her for her harsh words. "I didn't mean it that way-"

"Chill. I know." I smiled at her, realising she was just being defensive. Lying to herself because she wasn't ready to accept yet that she was going through something difficult. Placing the book into her empty hand, I curled her fingers around it to let her know this was hers.

"D, you don't need to-" She was clearly about to tear up anytime soon.

"Shh." I caressed my thumb on the notebook cover, not knowing what else to do. Maybe a part of the truth would help. "I know there's something going on in that pretty little mind of yours. Scribble it down, okay? No need to keep it all floating in your headspace. Let some of it down into words and let it go."

She nodded, chewing on her lip in concentration. I hated when she did that. "But this is your book, D. I can't take it home."

"It doesn't have my name on it, silly. It's an empty notebook. You know I carry extras around, just in case." I shrugged.

"But still-" She hesitated.

Sighing, I took out a pen from the case and filled the cover page on her behalf.

[Alt Text:

Notebook Cover

Name: Lyra Sparks

Age: 18

Subject: —]

I grinned at her and declared. "Now it's yours."

"Thanks." She picked up the notebook and walked away, shrugging. Probably to hide how emotional she was at the moment. Because if she would dare to look at me, she knew I would see it all in her eyes. All the secrets she was hiding, all the monsters she was running away from, all the dark thoughts she kept locked up somewhere in her mind.

Maybe she thought they would make me love her less. Or maybe she thought I would judge her for them like most of her friends and classmates did. Little did she know... No matter how dark her real world was, I was ready to dive into it if it meant showing her the light.

Because all it takes is one single candle to illuminate a dark room. And I was ready to be her candle, even if that meant I was ultimately looking forward to getting burnt and ending myself for her.

FEW HOURS LATER

Okay, I take my words back, I decide as I stand under the window that leads to her room. Measuring the distance with my eyes — scanning it from the ground to the window on the third floor — I wonder if this was such a good idea. A very moral and ethical side of me argues what I was about to do was wrong anyway, so why take the risk in the first place?

But another side of me — the one that had already lost Lyra once and was determined to save her this time — claimed that this was necessary. It had to be done if I wanted things to go right this time around. Joking to myself that if I ended up falling while trying to climb the pipe, I would have no one to put flowers on my grave; I took a deep breath to prepare myself.

Well, that could sound pitiful to you but it was quite mortifying to me. I wasn't like Lyra — I wasn't popular in school and nor did I have many friends. Any, to be honest. Lyra and Connor were my only pillars of support but Connor and I had drifted apart recently after a small fight, so he's out of the picture, I'm assuming.

The fact that my last journey from this world would be alone, all by myself, because the only person who still cared for me would hate me if she'd find out what I was about to do. But I had to do this. For her, for the only person who mattered. The least I could do was try...

Slowly, step by step, I held my balance and used the fixtures around the pipe for support as I slowly lifted my body towards the floor above. The view below me was scary enough but the risk of losing Lyra to the clutches of the darkness in her head was enough motivation. I wouldn't have normally done this but I knew Lyra would definitely be sleeping right now, so the chances of being caught were quite minimal.

After all, she had a flight to catch tomorrow — to go meet Nicola, the one who sponsored her ballet event. Honestly, it made no sense to me when Nicola didn't show up to watch the performance herself considering she was friends with Lyra but after asking Cindy, I figured she was going through something. The look on Cindy's face clearly said there was much more to Nicola's story but that's none of my business. Only Lyra is.

Evidently, Lyra must be losing her mind about justifying what happened in the performance and she always did one thing when she was freaking out. She escaped. To a world of dreams.

Reaching her window, I peeped through it and breathed a sigh of relief when I found Lyra sleeping cosily with a blanket wrapped over her. She looked so peaceful, just like when she lay in the casket-

The image shook me once again and just as I was about to fall, instinctively, I gripped the pipe for support. No more thinking about the past. This was my new chance and I was already working on changing so much. The past Diego would never have snuck into Lyra's room like this to find out what she was going through. The idea was simple — all I had to do was read whatever she had written in the notebook.

She must have written something, right? Her ink pen lay open on the table and my fingers itched to screw the cap shut else her pen would dry out. But I had to leave things exactly like I found them so she couldn't catch a hint. Mentally grimacing at the uncapped pen, I went through her stack of books but the notebook I gave her was nowhere to be found.

One glance at her to make sure she was sleeping, I went through the rest of her things to find the book but realised a bit too late that she must have packed it with her other things already. A bag stood in the corner of her room and I tried to break it open without her noticing but it was locked. Great, just great.

Helplessly, I searched for a sign. Something that could help me figure out what was going on in Lyra's headspace. Ears drawn in the direction of the rain sound simulation playing on her laptop — probably to help her sleep better — I saw the lit screen and wondered. It was totally unlike Lyra to leave her laptop open and unlocked. Peeping closer, I noticed another tab open and clicked on it to find an email.

[Alt Text:

Letter of Rejection from N.C.S.

Dear Lyra Sparks,

Thank you for sending your research material and product demos to Mr. Anderson and Mr. Elliot for consideration.

Presently, your product lacks marketability and considering the number of job applications we receive daily at NCS and the quality of work expected from our employees, we are restricted to allow people only above 21 years of age for our product R&D teams. Though your work shows potential, it will not be possible for us to appoint a team lead who has turned 18 years of age quite recently. The only objective here is to avoid legal issues since the company policy does not deem an 18 year old fit enough to blend into the company's culture and work process.

We appreciate your interest in Natalie Creation Studios and wish you the best in your pursuit. Feel free to apply here again once you've attained 21 years of age.

Best Regards,

Noah Elliot.

Signature

On behalf of Natalie Creation Studios.

Contact details listed below - phone number, email ID & address.]

I had no clue what this was about. Probably one of those demo projects she was working on for school? A thought questioned me if I even knew Lyra at all and the possibilities that followed made my stomach churn uneasily.

Clenching my hair in frustration, I fell on my knees and tried to think of some way to find out when the pen caught my eye again. The ink on the nib hadn't dried yet, which meant she must have used it recently to write something. And it was not like Lyra to close a book shut before letting the ink dry on a page fully; she hated it when the ink smudged. Which meant-

That's when I spotted it. The same spiral bound page that belonged to the book. The only difference being, instead of being inside the book, this page was crumpled and thrown into the mesh trash can under her desk along with some other papers with gibberish written on it — or at least, stuff that made no sense to me.

Softly brushing away the creases on the paper so as to not make any sound that could wake Lyra up, I began reading what she had written:

"I run as fast as I can to avoid facing the reality. My legs are tired from the helpless running. They want to stop. They cannot bear the pain. I want to give up but the urge is strong. The urge is a feeling of running away from all things that cause pain; the urge is to stop facing all the taunts and run away; the urge is to give up; the urge is to die.

Panting, my lungs tell me to take a break. Sometimes, all you need is a little break from backstabbers, from haters, from liars, from family, from the world, from life. And from yourself too.

Sometimes all you need to do is end things because carrying on feels pointless. It leads nowhere because your life is just a dead-end road. There's no coming back from the messes you made.

Sometimes, it is the only way to save you from the clutches of pain, grief and anguish. Sometimes, that is the only way to give you what you craved for in life.

Peace.

I listen to my pleading legs and stop on the way to give my legs some rest and heart a break from the loud throbbing.

"Die," her words still ring in my mind causing my memories to break into shatters of a broken glass piece. I try to pick them up and put them together again, but the sharp corners are painful. All they imply is a loss of blood and life. They hurt, especially when the one you love is causing all that pain.

It's terrible but it is mine. It is strange but it is mine. I have to face it because it is mine. I have to get used to it because it is mine. I have the right to do anything, because this life is mine. I choose to die because this life is mine. I have the right to ignore it. I have the right to end it.

Love, lust, hatred, accusations, taunts, sarcasm, competition, dreams, wishes, choices, compromise... Not all can handle them well. Some survive while some give up.

Some manage to live while some die; leaving behind a suicide note."

* * *

Random Question: Do you write your thoughts in a diary / journal? If no, would you ever consider doing it in the future?

* * *

Author's Note - Did you like this chapter? How about the idea of the notebook? What do you think the email is about?

Kudos to all those who are catching the crossovers of Pillows & Dreams, 27 Bowls of Ice cream & 24 Chances to Unlove You within this story! For those who want to read the scene where Lyra meets her sponsor (Nicola), you can find it in the starting chapters of 27 Bowls of Ice cream.

One question (true answer expected) - Do you really like this book?

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