Kip's POV

There's little more left of winter break than two months. In a week, I'm going back to campus. I've been stuck thinking for the last hour about how I've gotten myself into that. If asked, the reply would be 'Why not' but I'm starting to think the real reason is wedged between two prompters. So it's either Hendrik's pointed stare that has me hauling back to the grounds after a month off or it was the heated sensation of Enid's glare on the back of my neck.

Either way, there's no backing out now. Not for me, at least. We came out of class with 9 volunteers, I'm certain at least one of those is going to pull out. Everyone forgets how much they enjoy being at home until they're there.

I skip through my playlist. None of these songs are hitting me in the feels today. That's what I need, a reason to look like a madman dancing around on my mattress. A reason to break my bed a little more.

My eyes roll at that thought because it's not what it sounds like. I've spent enough of my time convincing people that I'm not biting pillows on a nightly basis. Or ever. A huff escapes my lips as I find a song I can move to. Anything to distract myself from The Film Project, as my professor called it. If it weren't for the several degrees and certificates hanging behind his desk, I would question his ability to teach us. He acts more like a drug addict who's broken onto campus than an actual teacher. That could just be his signature bug-eyed look.

It amuses me that the theories are so plausible. The slackers. Security there sucks. I ignore the constant buzzing of my phone. Right now I don't want to know. Music blares, filling my head but not the room because if I wake the house I'm going to be left for slaughter. I throw my arms around, risking chopping off a finger on the fan blades. My feet don't move. One incident with tangled sheets is enough to set you against it for life. Thinking of it causes phantom pains in the scar that curves under my ear to the point of my jaw.

Never leave a guitar by the bed, my life motto for the last few years.

After five songs, I fall back into the same pattern of restlessness: muscles strained as lyrics, rhythms and melodies fail to hit the spot. I drop to my knees for reasons too boring for my liking, and grab my phone.

Ky: Hey.

The buzzing hadn't been who I thought it was and though I didn't feel like messaging Tarek for the fifteenth time today, it's preferable to this bullshit. Kyong hasn't messaged in months. Fifteen months, to be exact.

K: How can I help you?

I want to throw myself off over the banister for replying, but I'm fighting against a part of me that didn't receive closure from this self-absorbed man. It happens to be stronger than the little fucks I have left.

Ky: I was wondering if you'd heard anything from the others. Feels like we should have started talking before this point.

K: Why would I have heard anything?

Ky: You're the approachable class clown, remember?

This question strikes the wrong chord.

K: Ask someone else, Kyong.

Ky: Settle petal ㅋㅋㅋ. It's cool anyway. I had the plan finished in the first week of break. We're going to win that competition.

When I don't respond, I receive another message.

Ky: Wanna get some food? That barbeque place is open again.

K: Why? Ky: Need to get out. Parents are driving me crazy.

K: Can't.

Ky: Come on Kip. I need some stress relief.

Ky: Appa is trying to convince me to switch degrees again. Your mouth would help me forget about it.

Ky: 7 pm, you know where. If you don't meet me, I won't do the project and you'll all fail. Do you want that for yourself? Hendriks would be so disappointed.

I click my phone off, chucking it under my pillow. I press the heel of my palm into my eyes, stopping the steamy tears from marking my cheeks. My mind is a pool of curse words. There is 95% of me that knows his absence wouldn't affect the competition results. The other 5% that thinks it's a risk not worth taking tells me to make sure my tears are gone before I see him.

I'm dressed in ten minutes. His preferred outfit of mine has been buried in the bottom of my wardrobe for months. It smells stale and the perfume he 'encourages' me to wear barely covers it.

If I don't fill my head with something other than every way, this is going to go. I won't make it out of my bedroom, let alone the front door. My mind wanders back to Mr. Liekeman and his devious theatrics.

There is no way that it would just be the nine of us in the running if everyone had known we were volunteering for The Academy Genre Awards. 50,000 dollars and two months to film the best piece of content of our lives to have the chance of being a big name in the industry.

More often than not, the winners have gone on to be household names. My fists curl a little tighter as I imagine a random teen in five years proclaiming that Kip Cooper makes a killer soundtrack. A real possibility if we succeed in making this film.

"All I ask is you don't forget me when you're famous. After all, who gave you your skills?" Liekeman gleamed.

I've made it to the front door with my hand on the doorknob, ready to twist it and throw myself outside before I change my mind. There's a small hope that my mother will wake up from the noise and stop me in my tracks. Insist that I stay, that I talk to her.

She doesn't appear. I swing the door open.

"I'm so glad I didn't have to knock." My eyes widen. Edin stands before me, luggage pooling at her feet. "Or climb through your window. My back still hurts from last time." This is why she hadn't been answering anyone today.

"When did you get back?" I question, taking her bags.

"About an hour ago." She smiles, following me as I turn back in the direction of my room.

The trip upstairs is quiet, but as soon as the door closes, she's in my arms, squeezing the life out of me. I laugh, returning the favour.

"You were messaging, Kyong." Her voice shifts. Enid has never scolded me, but there is a side of her that shouldn't be messed with. This is it. "Show me." This isn't an option. If I don't put my phone in her hand, unlocked and opened to the start of the conversation in the next minute, there will be consequences. She's going to beat me with a pillow or tell me about that one time in grade three that loops in my mind at 3 AM on random days.

"Fine." I roll my eyes. "It was nothing, but if you want to be all psycho witch on me, go ahead." I hand my phone over, flopping down on the bed.

"It's not nothing if that's where you were going, especially with the perfume on. That's never a good sign." She shakes her head, her eyes flitter over the messages. I watch the creases form in her skin as her brows grow closer and her nose scrunches. Enid sits on the end of my bed, never tearing her stare from the screen.

Then her fingers are typing, and I don't have the energy to stop her from doing whatever it is she's about to have done. I know Enid's tells, not like the back of my hand that has never been inspected, but like my favourite film, motion by motion, line by line.

Right now, I have an extraordinarily angry Enid Jones in my bedroom. Her skin should be searing with the amount of strain she's holding in her shoulders. The tips of her fingers use less of the pad and more nails, making the sound sharper as she hits the screen harder.

"Come on, you're going to have a shower." She pulls me back out the door and down the hallway. Once locked in the bathroom, she turns around, waiting for me to strip and hide behind the curtain. When I've done so, I can see her shadow move to sit on the counter. Enid will never sit on a seat when a clear surface is available. Where I could have things on the bathroom counter and left side of my desk, I don't, for good reason.

"I recommend using your mother's body wash. It's the only thing that's going to get that wretched two-dollar fifty perfume off you." I can hear the gag reflex in her voice.

"You're so dramatic, Enid Jones." I scoff. "I was perfectly fine."

"I'm more concerned about you being perfectly fine when someone's trying to use you for sex." She shivers.

"It was fine." I exaggerate, keeping the conversation light.

"We don't need him for this contest, anyway." Enid snaps, mainly to herself. "He'll be sorry when we're all well-known filmmakers and he wasn't there." I poke my head out of the shower curtain.

"On another subject, I'm surprised you came here. Don't you miss your bodyguard?" I taunt her before returning to be a vague shape behind the curtain again.

"Distance makes the heart grow fonder. I wasn't sure you could grow fonder of me, so I opted for you. Plus, this way I can torture you both." This relationship would be a whole different ball game if she wasn't as quick on her quippy feet as I am.

"Trust me, I could grow plenty fonder of you, for example, if you weren't a cock-block, if you didn't sit outside as I showered and if you messaged your boy-toy back, so he doesn't bother me instead. That's off the top of my head." I count on my fingers, though she can't see.

"As I said, you can't grow fonder of me." She laughs. "The lack of messages was incidental. My adorable, cute, loving little brother decided that putting my phone in the toilet was a good idea." Enid groans.

"Sounds perfectly reasonable to me." I smile to myself. "Oh, and I also came this way because I was super excited. I had an idea for the project, and I wanted your thoughts on it."

"Go ahead," I say, massaging shampoo into my scalp.

"So, our prompt is-" Enid pauses for me to answer.

"Horror." I pause for theatrics, "Is in the eye of the beholder?"

"And what is the perfect genre for this terrifying, horrific prompt?"

"Um... I'm guessing the answer isn't horror?"

"Romance." She says as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. The thing is, as she continues to explain why, I start to see it. Suddenly, I'm let in on the way Enid Jones views particular romance films. Now, I want nothing more than to go downstairs and begin messing around on the pianoforte to get the perfect nuance for this spooky picture.

A week goes by with the start of composures and Enid's face popping up at the most random hours of day. No other messages have come through from Kyong, which worries me. Usually, he would blow up my phone if I wasn't responding.

I drag my suitcase of clothes behind me as I walk up the frozen steps of the school. When we usually come back to the grounds, there are neat pathways to walk on and certain parts have been slathered in ice melts. This is all for safety, but an entire school is not going to go out of their way for nine students, so I trudge through snow and slush alike, nearly killing myself on the stairs.

The limestone seems a cooler tone in the snow; the roofs are bright white, and the one area of life is the cafeteria where warm yellow lights invite me closer. I take a look at my phone, a thought dawning on me.

I check the blocked folder of my text messages. Sure enough, there Kyong's name is. I scroll past the brutal message from Enid, concentrating on the trail of messages that have come after.

Ky: You're such a good screw.

Ky: You will answer me... I know it.

Ky: Perhaps I'll make you a better offer. Meet me at the grounds earlier than the others. We'll have some fun.

Ky: I'm here, you better be too.

Ky: Where are you?

I follow the lights, stomach gnawing away at itself as I now know who it is sitting on the other side of the cafeteria doors. Coming early wasn't purposeful. I mean, I did, but not for this interaction. I just wanted to settle in, and listen to a record.

Holding my breath, I push the heavy wooden door open; the deafening squeak pushing my nerves right to the edge of the cliff I was about to fall from.

Where Kyong should be, my eyes fall on Hendriks.

"You scared the crap out of me, Cooper." He chuckles, hand on his chest, which is adorned in the earth's softest-looking sweater.

"It's only you." I laugh louder than I mean. Even though I would usually push the door shut with my foot, I use the time it takes to turn around and shut it to take a breath, and hide my embarrassment.

"I'm not sure if I'm supposed to take that as a compliment or not." He smiles my way. Crow's feet like scars gather at his eyes, I find one of my hands holding my stomach before I'm aware of it.

"Well, you know, don't want you having too much of an ego this soon into the experience." I throw back, tucking my hands into my back pockets so I seem open.

"Ha, you're very funny." He shakes his head, but it feels less sarcastic and more genuine than I think he means it to be.

"Say, isn't Liekeman supposed to be the one being an over-controlling pain in our artistic asses?" I put the question forward, wishing to know how long we'd have his company.

"Oh no, that was never on the table. Half the committee realized it would be like handing over money to a starving artist." He stops for a moment. "In fact, it would be."

"I think that's a good call." I offer a small smile, moving further into the room.

"Still not sure if that's the preferred outcome or not." His brows lift with a teasing edge. I'm not sure if I'm meant to supply confirmation to that or move on.

...

...

...

The silence makes me sick. The small breathy laugh that could definitely kill a person, that person being me at this moment, makes me want to die.

"Who were expecting anyway? You looked like you'd seen a ghost." He comments, taking a sip from the steaming coffee cup before him.

"A ghost? Nah, I'm pretty chill with the whole ghost thing. I mean, who doesn't want to hang out with someone's dead ancestor?" I shrug with a sass that I'm hoping is a cute, adorable, and not-at-all obvious way.

"Alright then, what did you see to make you so pale then?"

"Uh, well, I'm pale because of the snow but if you must know what it could have been, I can't stand vague human figures or like those scenes in the movies where there's a blurred person in the background and they're smiling like a manic, you know like this-." I pull my most maniacal smile.

"Yeah, ok, you can stop that now." He laughs. I drop it to another natural one. "I'm glad to know how to seek revenge for your scare, but you still haven't answered my question."

"Kwong said he was coming early. I was hoping not to run into him." I wave it off. "Surprised he's not in here telling you all his brilliant ideas. Said he'd arrived like an hour ago."

"Well, that's strange because this is the only building unlocked and you're the first person to join me."

"Huh? Yeah, that is strange." But I say it with too much relief. I check my phone once more.

Ky: Is that you?

He sent that a few moments ago. I assume he's somewhere close by and can hear us talking.

Ky: You know what I'm out of here

My brows furrow at this, but I'm not sure why.

"Dogs." My attention is brought back to the smiling brown eyes in front of me.

"What?" I question.

"Scare the crap out of me. I don't understand it, but they fill me with dread. It's like a looming threat. Even my neighbour's dog barking in the night sends my heart racing." He informs me. I forget about the text, taking a seat a couple of tables away from him. "Thought you might want to even the playing field."

"I'm not sure you should be giving me this much power?" I smile.

"No?" He leans forward, curious.

"Oh no, definitely not. Do you know the things I can do with this information?" I tease.

"I'm not too concerned."

"Ouch." My brows furrow. "That is very offensive to a criminal mastermind such as myself."

"You, Mr. Cooper, are no criminal mastermind, nor would you ever do anything with something resembling personal information."

"And how do you know that? Maybe I've actually been a supervillain this entire time." I bite back my smile.

"Because you're too good. Your behaviour in class proves it." Even though he smiles, his tone is completely serious. A strand of his long hair falls in his eyes. He doesn't break his gaze.

"Hello?" a voice shouts from outside. It's Enid. I move on instinct to go get her.

"Cooper." Hendriks stops me at the door. "Delete his number."

"What?" I ask, heart-stopping.

"Spiders. Can't stand them." He shivers. "Just to make the playing field a little uneven again." With that, he picks his book up, letting me walk out the door for Enid.

I appreciate the fact that the night is clear, otherwise my friend would appear like a dark silhouette in the distance. Hendriks would be getting a physical representation of just how pale I can get.

Hours go by, everyone arrives.

Aside from Kyong, who never shows his smug face.

I delete his number anyway.

No one sticks around the cafeteria aside from myself. Everyone's eager to spend the night doing whatever, wherever. Even with Hendriks here, there are not many rules for us. I could go pretty wild and have no consequences to face, but I want to drink hot chocolate in the silence of this dusky space.

"Mind if I join you?" Hendriks appears at the door, flashing, shining on himself so I can see his features. I smile. He takes a seat... right in front of me. My stomach begins to twist again.