Chapter 70

Yoko

The final day of high school.

It's surreal.

I should be feeling relieved, excited even, that after this, it's just one last week of exams and then I'm done. No more waking up at ungodly hours, no more sitting through lectures that make me question my will to live, no more walking through these halls as a student.

Instead—I feel like my brain is splitting in half.

There's the side of me that's focused on finals, on all the stress of cramming every bit of knowledge I possibly can into my head before next week. And then—there's the side of me that's thinking about everything else.

Blair. Allison. Their stupid deal. The damn photos Blair took of Faye and me. The threats.

And Faye—who's out there handling it with Engfa, and yet, I can't stop worrying.

I drag a hand through my hair, exhaling through my nose as I zone out into nothingness. The chatter around me fades into white noise.

I barely register Marissa complaining about how calculus is going to be the death of her, or Big dramatically declaring that he's not even going to try anymore, just accept his fate.

Ink is beside me, flipping through her notebook, quietly highlighting something.

Everything is normal. Everything should feel normal.

But all I can think about is how this might be the last normal day I have before things crash and burn.

"Oi."

I blink, snapping out of my trance just as Big waves a hand in front of my face.

"You good?" he asks, raising an eyebrow. "You've been staring at your empty tray for like, five minutes. I thought you were calculating the meaning of life."

Marissa snorts, nudging me. "What, were you mentally preparing your valedictorian speech or something?"

I force a smile, sitting up straighter. "Sorry," I mumble, playing it off as best as I can. "I was just... thinking about my notes."

"Oh my god," Marissa groans, throwing her head back. "Even when you're zoning out, it's still about school?"

"Disgusting," Big says dramatically, shaking his head. "Absolutely vile. You make me sick, Yoko."

I laugh lightly, playing along—but beside me, I feel Ink shift.

 A subtle nudge under the table. I glance at her. She's looking at me. Not suspiciously, not prying—but in that way only Ink can. Like she already knows.

I swallow, feeling the tension in my chest tighten. I pretend to take a sip of my drink.

"You alright?" Ink murmurs, low enough that only I can hear.

I pause, then shake my head, just barely. Ink nods once, then goes back to her notes like nothing happened.

"Wanna talk about it after school?" she asks, voice casual, flipping a page.

I exhale, relieved. "Yeah... sure."

"Cool," she says. "You can come over to my place. We can chill, you can tell me what's up."

I nod, feeling the smallest weight lift off my shoulders. "Yeah. That'd be nice."

And for the first time today, I feel like maybe—just maybe—I can breathe.

I exhale slowly, gripping my books a little tighter as I head toward my last class of the day—English Literature.

The final one. After this, I'm officially done with high school.

And yet, instead of feeling relief, I just feel... a little off. Maybe because I haven't seen Faye in almost three days.

Not since that night at her house, when Engfa came over and laid everything out for us.

Not since we agreed to maintain absolute distance so that Allison and Blair wouldn't have a single scrap of evidence to use against us.

I know we have to do this. I know it's necessary. But god, I hate it. I bite the inside of my cheek, walking in alongside Ink.

The moment I step through the door, my eyes automatically search for Faye.

She's at her desk, flipping through her notes, one hand resting on her chin. She doesn't look up. Not when I enter, not when I pass by her, not even when I take my usual seat.

Not even once.

My stomach twists uncomfortably. I don't know what I was hoping for.

A glance? A tease? Something? But there's nothing. Just pure, professional detachment. Like I'm just another student in this class.

I clench my jaw, settling into my seat beside Ink.

"You good?" Ink murmurs, probably noticing my mood shift.

"Yeah," I say, staring at my notebook. "I'm fine."

I ignore the way my chest tightens when Faye finally stands and starts the lesson.

"Alright, class, this will be the last literature session before you enter finals next week," she announces, her voice smooth, cold, distant—the complete opposite of how she usually speaks to me. 

"We'll be wrapping up our final analysis on tragedy. If you have any last-minute questions, now would be the time to ask."

I grip my pen, letting her voice wash over me. She sounds exactly the same as she always does in class. Commanding. Intelligent. Sharp. Like she's meant to be here.

And yet—I feel it.

The distance. The way she doesn't even glance at me, doesn't even acknowledge me outside of her normal routine. The way she's treating me just like any other student.

I inhale deeply, forcing myself to focus.

Because this is it.

The last time I'll hear Faye teach. The last time I'll watch her standing in front of me, going through passages with the same dedication, the same love for literature that made me fall for her in the first place.

The last time—before I leave high school behind for good.

And somehow, that realization is hitting me harder than I thought it would.

...

The bell rings, signaling the end of our very last English Literature class. For a brief moment, there's silence.

Then—the entire class bursts into movement.

Chairs scrape against the floor, papers shuffle, people are chatting, sighing, groaning—some in relief, some in dread because finals are next week.

Faye closes her notebook, taps it against the podium once, and with her usual cool, composed voice, she says, "That's all from me, then. You have everything you need to prepare for your finals. I wish you all the best, and I hope you do well. Good luck."

That's it. Just clean, professional, distant words. No extra parting message. No special glance. No teasing smirk.

Nothing.

I swallow hard and quickly shove my things into my bag, ignoring the tightness in my chest.

Ink nudges me. "Not staying back?"

I shake my head. 

I don't trust myself to stay back. Because I know. I know the moment I do, I'll just be watching her, waiting for something, waiting for anything.

But I already know—I'm not going to get it. So, instead, I hoist my bag up, turn on my heel, and walk straight out with Ink.

As we step out of the school, everything is chaotic.

People are cheering, laughing, making plans, running around like they've just been freed from a year-long sentence. It's literally the last day of classes, and everyone is celebrating.

And yet—I don't feel anything. Just... off.

Ink eyes me carefully as we walk down the pavement. "Okay, seriously," she says, narrowing her eyes at me. "What's up with you? You're acting weird."

I force out a laugh, trying to play it off. "I'm fine."

She scoffs. "No, you're not."

I roll my eyes. "Ink."

"Yoko."

I exhale sharply, staring straight ahead. "It's nothing, really. Just school stress, exams coming up—"

"Bullshit."

I blink.

Ink folds her arms, tilting her head at me. "You think I don't notice?" she says. "You've been acting weird this whole time. You and Ms Peraya. Did you two—"

She hesitates, then lowers her voice slightly. "Did you two break up?"

I freeze for half a second. Then, I quickly recover. "No."

Ink raises a brow. "Really? Because you guys haven't even looked at each other in days. And today—today—of all days, you just walked out without staying back?"

I press my lips into a thin line. Because—yeah, she's right.

Normally, I'd stay behind. Normally, I'd linger, waiting for everyone to clear out just so I could talk to her, even if just for a little while.

But not today. Not anymore.

Ink narrows her eyes further, then lets out a sigh. "So?" she prompts.

I rub my temple, exhaling slowly. "I'll tell you when we get to your house."

...

Ink's house is quiet when we arrive. Her parents aren't home—probably still at work—so it's just us.

We head straight to her room, a familiar space that I've been in countless times over the years. Walls lined with posters, shelves stacked with books, vinyls, and random knickknacks, a cozy warm-toned lamp casting a soft glow over everything.

Ink drops her bag onto the floor, then flops down onto the rug, patting the space beside her. "Alright. Spill."

I exhale. I drop down beside her, folding my legs, pressing my palms to my knees. Ink just watches me, patient, waiting. I feel like I don't even know where to begin.

So, I just start from the start. Slowly. Piece by piece.

From Blair in Edinburgh. To the weird, uneasy feeling I had when we got back. The following. The black sedan. The camera clicks I thought I heard.

Then—the park.

Ink is completely still as I recount how Blair dropped the truth—how she knew about me and Faye, how she wanted me to break up with Faye.

I tell her about Blair's deal with Allison, how she was offered the top spot in our graduating cohort in exchange for evidence of my relationship with Faye. I tell her about how Blair tried to kiss me, how I had to twist her wrist and run to escape her.

By the time I'm done, my chest is tight, my hands are curled into fists on my lap.

Ink says nothing at first. She's just staring. Then, she inhales sharply, exhales slowly, then finally says—

"What. The. Fuck."

Yeah. That about sums it up.

Ink is staring at me, wide-eyed, her mouth slightly open. She blinks once. Then twice. Then—

"What the actual f—" She cuts herself off, dragging a hand down her face, still processing everything I just told her. "That's insane. That's actually insane. What the hell is wrong with Blair? And Allison? Oh my God."

I let out a small, tired laugh, rubbing my temples. "Yeah, tell me about it."

Ink shakes her head, still in disbelief, then she suddenly leans forward, her voice gentler now. "Are you okay, though?" she asks, her brows knitting together.

And it's such a simple question, yet it hits me all at once. I part my lips to answer, but the words don't come out immediately.

Am I okay?

I exhale. 

"I—" I start, then stop, then exhale again. "I don't know."

Ink's expression softens. She nudges me gently, a small, grounding gesture. "That's fair."

I nod, running a hand through my hair.

"It's just... a lot," I admit, sighing. "I'm worried about Faye. I'm worried about my future. I'm worried about everything."

Ink nods in understanding. "So what's the plan?" she asks next, her tone more serious now. "What are you guys gonna do?"

I inhale, steadying myself. "Faye is handling it," I say, and even as I say it, I feel a sense of relief just knowing that's true.

"Her friend, Engfa, is helping too. She's working on it legally, figuring out how to counter them. For now, Faye told me to just focus on finals and not let it distract me."

Ink gives me a look. "And are you actually able to do that?"

I sigh. "Trying."

"Hmm," Ink hums, then, after a beat, she reaches over and ruffles my hair, making me scowl.

"Well, at least you're not dealing with this alone," she says, her voice lighter now, like she's trying to help me breathe a little easier.

I let out a small, tired laugh, swatting her hand away. "Yeah. I guess that's true."

Ink stretches out her legs, leaning back against the edge of her bed. She's watching me, her gaze calculating yet soft, like she's running through solutions in her mind.

Then, after a moment, she sighs.

"Alright, listen," she says, her voice calm and steady. "I know Faye told you to focus on finals and let her handle it, but if that's making you more anxious, then maybe you should do something."

I glance at her, brows furrowing. "Like what?"

"I don't know. Something that makes you feel like you're not just waiting around for the other shoe to drop."

I exhale, leaning my head back against the wall. "Easier said than done."

"I know," she says, nudging me lightly with her foot. "But if it were me? I'd make sure that whatever Blair and Allison are planning, I'm two steps ahead."

I arch a brow at her. "And how exactly am I supposed to do that?"

Ink shrugs, thoughtful. "Maybe you could gather your own proof. Like, if you happen to see them together again, maybe you take a video or a photo, just in case it helps Engfa turn the tables."

I frown. "You want me to stalk my stalker?"

Ink snorts, shaking her head. "Not stalk. Just... be aware. If they're keeping an eye on you, then be smart about it and keep an eye on them too."

I hesitate, considering it–it's... not a bad idea.

"But what if they catch me doing it?" I ask, gnawing on my lip.

Ink tilts her head, unconcerned. "Then play dumb. Say you were taking a random picture of a tree. Or a dog. Or, I don't know, a weird-shaped cloud."

I laugh, shaking my head. "You make it sound so easy."

"Because it kind of is," she says, grinning slightly. "They're already being sneaky. If you're sneaky too, then it's just a matter of who slips up first."

I let that thought sink in. "And if they slip up?" I ask.

Ink leans forward, her smirk turning sharp. "Then you win."

A slow, determined smile pulls at my lips. "That," I say, tapping my fingers on my knee, "I can work with."

Ink claps her hands together, abruptly ending the conversation. "Alright, that's enough stress for today."

I blink at her. "What?"

"You heard me," she says, grinning mischievously. "We are not spending the last official day as students obsessing over evil ex-girlfriends, stalkers, and blackmail."

I scoff. "Easy for you to say. You're not being stalked."

"Nope," she says, grinning wider. "Which is why I have the mental capacity to make sure you're not just spiraling over it all day. You need a break."

I groan, flopping back onto her rug dramatically. "I don't have time for a break."

"Yes, you do," Ink counters immediately. "Finals are next week. You still have time to breathe. And if you're over-stressing, you'll just burn out and mess up your exams. You know it. I know it. So."

She stands up abruptly, yanking open a drawer and pulling out two controllers. "Nintendo time."

I groan louder, throwing an arm over my face. "You're the devil."

"And you love me for it," she sings, already booting up her Switch.

I peek out from under my arm, watching her scroll through her game library. "What are we playing?" I mumble, pretending I don't care even though I already know she's won.

Ink smirks, tossing me a controller. "Mario Kart. Because I intend to destroy you."

I snort, finally sitting up and grabbing my controller. "You wish."

Ink raises a brow. "You talk big for someone who consistently falls off Rainbow Road."

"Hey! In my defense, that track is evil!"

She laughs, nudging me. "Suck it up, Apasra. We're making the most of today. No stress, no drama—just us, gaming, and me absolutely kicking your ass."

I roll my eyes, but a smile tugs at my lips anyway. "Fine," I say, settling in beside her. "But if I win, you're buying me bubble tea later."

"Deal," Ink says, grinning as she selects her character.

And just like that, for the first time in what feels like forever, I let myself forget the chaos waiting outside this room—and just have fun.

...

I am fully, absolutely, completely engrossed in this game.

Ink is cursing up a storm beside me as we race through the final lap, controllers clicking furiously in our hands.

"NO—NO, NO, NO—" Ink screeches as my character, Shy Guy, zooms ahead after hitting her Bowser with a perfectly timed red shell.

I cackle victoriously. "Oh my god, Ink. Did you just—"

"SHUT UP, YOKO," she shouts, eyes wide with panic as I close in on the finish line.

She tries to drift around the final corner, but I see it. I see her fate unfold in real time. She's too close to the edge.

"Ink—"

"DON'T SAY IT," she growls.

I watch in pure delight as Bowser veers too sharply, completely missing the track, and then, he falls off the edge of Rainbow Road.

"NOOOOOOOOOOO!" Ink shrieks.

My Shy Guy zooms across the finish line in first place. I throw my controller into the air. "HELL YEAH!"

Ink flops back onto the floor, groaning dramatically. "I hate this game."

I grin so wide it hurts. "No, you hate losing."

She snaps up immediately, pointing a finger at me. "You better not gloat, Apasra, or I'm turning off my Switch right now."

I clasp my hands together. "Oh, my dearest Ink, my most beloved, treasured friend. You fought well—truly. But alas—"

"I SWEAR TO GOD, YOKO—"

I burst into laughter, dodging a pillow she hurls at me. The game fades into the background as I just sit there, grinning like an idiot, because damn.

I really needed this.

"Okay, okay," Ink huffs, sitting up. "Enough Mario Kart. It's getting late."

I glance at my phone–6:24 PM.

"Your parents coming home soon?" I ask.

"Yeah," she says, standing up and stretching. "Wanna grab bubble tea before I walk you home?"

I perk up immediately. "Yes, please."

"I should've never agreed to this bet," Ink grumbles as she grabs her wallet.

I laugh, nudging her as we head out the door. "Too late, sucker. You lost. Time to pay up."

Ink rolls her eyes, but she's smiling. And for the first time in a long time, I feel like everything is okay.

...

The walk home feels peaceful, the streets bathed in the soft glow of streetlights, the faint hum of passing cars filling the quiet spaces between our conversation.

I take a long sip of my bubble tea, the sweetness lingering on my tongue as I exhale, feeling... light.

"Thanks for today, Ink," I say, smiling at her.

She snorts, nudging my arm. "What, for absolutely obliterating you in Mario Kart?"

I gasp dramatically, placing a hand over my chest. "Excuse me?! You're the one who fell off Rainbow Road!"

"Technical difficulties," she says, deadpan, before sipping her drink.

I laugh, shaking my head. "No, I mean... just for today. I really needed it."

Ink glances at me before she grins, a little softer this time. "That's what best friends are for, isn't it?"

I nod, warmth blooming in my chest. Then—I sigh.

"Hey, hey," Ink raises an eyebrow, pointing at my cup. "I literally just bought you bubble tea. What's with the sigh?"

I chuckle, swirling my drink. "Just thinking about how much I'll miss this."

Ink tilts her head. "Miss what?"

"This," I gesture vaguely at the night air, the familiar streets, her. "Hanging out like this. After high school, we'll all go to different universities, and it won't be the same."

Ink hums, nodding. "True, true. But wait—you already know where you're going?"

I hesitate for half a second, then nod. "Yeah. I'm going to Edinburgh."

Ink stares at me, then slowly smirks. "No wonder you're getting all sentimental."

I roll my eyes, bumping shoulders with her. "It's not just because of Faye," I grumble, though my face betrays me.

"Mm-hmm," Ink sips her drink, unimpressed. "Right, right. Totally not because of Ms. Tall and Cold."

I groan, shoving her lightly.

"Okay, okay, but seriously," Ink says, grinning. "Even if you're overseas, we're still keeping in touch. You know that, right?"

I nod, heart warming.

"Like, I'll literally just text you memes and remind you of all your embarrassing moments so you never forget me," she continues, smugly.

"Oh, God, please don't," I laugh, shaking my head.

"And whenever I'm free, I can fly over and annoy you in person," she adds.

I grin, feeling comforted, grounded. "And when I come back, we'll hang out like nothing's changed?"

Ink smirks. "Exactly."

We reach my house, and I pause, turning to her. "Seriously, Ink. Thanks for today."

She snorts, waving a hand. "You keep getting sappy on me, Apasra. Just go inside before I charge you for emotional labor."

I laugh, shaking my head before heading to the door. As I turn the handle, I glance back.

Ink is still standing there, hands in her pockets, watching me with that same knowing, teasing look. "Hey, Yoko."

"Yeah?"

"We're best friends, yeah?"

I smile. "Yeah."

"Good," she says, taking a step back. "Now go inside before I start crying from all this sentimentality."

I laugh, rolling my eyes as I finally step into my house. And as the door closes behind me, a sense of ease settles over me.

The weight that had been pressing on my chest the entire day feels lighter now, thanks to Ink. Thanks to today.

I exhale, rolling my shoulders, letting go of the tension.

Even though I miss Faye—God, do I miss her—I know she's handling everything. And if there's anyone I can trust, it's her.

That thought alone grounds me, keeping me steady despite the whirlwind of everything else.

After a quick shower, I step out in an oversized hoodie, towel-drying my hair as I walk to my bed.

The moment I sit down—

Thump.

I barely have time to react before a furry ball of energy launches itself at me.

"Ham—!"

He jumps up, tail wagging furiously, rubbing his head against my lap before plopping down dramatically, rolling over for belly rubs.

"Needy little thing," I mumble, grinning as I scratch his belly.

Ham whines, nuzzling against me, like he knows I need this. Like he knows I need him.

I chuckle, leaning back against my pillows as I keep stroking his fur, feeling the soft rise and fall of his breathing against me.

"You're my little stress relief, huh?" I murmur, smiling.

Ham responds with a content sigh, tail thumping against the bed.

I don't know how long I just sit there, playing with his paws, running my fingers through his fur, letting my mind settle.

Eventually, exhaustion seeps in, and I stifle a yawn, curling up beneath the covers. Ham, of course, immediately curls up beside me, resting his head near my stomach.

"Goodnight, Ham," I whisper, scratching behind his ear.

His tail wags sleepily in response.

As I close my eyes, warmth spreads through my chest—not just from Ham, but from knowing that despite everything, I am not alone.

Ink is there. Faye is there. And no matter what happens—

I know we'll make it through.