Get Hurt, Cieny

Chapter 4: The Unspoken Distance

The following days were a blur. I woke up, went to school, went home, and did it all over again. The monotony was comforting, in a way. It kept my mind occupied, a gentle hum beneath the chaos of my thoughts. I could disappear in the rhythm of it all. Or at least, I could try.

But no matter how hard I tried to bury the memories of Westley and his strange words, they lingered at the edges of my mind. They made everything feel… heavier. It was like having a pebble in your shoe that you couldn’t quite shake out. You could go on walking, but it would never feel right.

Westley didn’t approach me again. He didn’t seek me out, didn’t try to start another conversation. Part of me was relieved—no more awkward moments, no more of his intense gaze that seemed to see right through me. But another part of me… I couldn’t deny it. I was disappointed.

It wasn’t that I wanted to talk to him. But something about the way he had looked at me—something about the way he seemed to understand I was struggling in a way no one else did—it had left me feeling… seen.

It wasn’t something I was used to. And I didn’t know how to handle it.

So, I carried on with my life as usual. I greeted my friends, smiled when I was supposed to, and kept up the façade. No one knew the real me. No one could. They only knew the girl I let them see—the kind-hearted girl who did her best to keep the peace, who helped wherever she was needed, who always smiled even when it felt like the weight of the world was on her shoulders.

But then came Friday.

It started like any other day, except there was a change in the air. There was a quiet shift in the way people walked through the halls, a subtle anticipation that seemed to hang just beneath the surface. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but something felt different.

I was in the cafeteria, sitting with my usual group of friends, trying to focus on the chatter around me. But I couldn’t. My eyes kept flicking to the door, waiting for something I couldn’t name.

And then, there he was. Westley.

He walked in like he owned the place—as if he had the whole world at his feet, and it just had to follow him. His friends surrounded him like a pack of wolves, all laughter and smug expressions, but I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. It was as if the moment he stepped into the room, the air shifted.

I quickly looked away, hoping I hadn’t been too obvious. But the truth was, I couldn’t help it. Westley had that effect on people. There was something magnetic about him, something that drew you in whether you wanted it or not. And it wasn’t just his good looks. It was more than that.

As I stared down at my lunch, I could feel his gaze on me, just the smallest of glances, but enough to send a shiver down my spine.

"Hey, Cieny," a voice interrupted my thoughts.

I looked up, startled, to see Rhea, one of my closest friends, sitting across from me. She was giving me an odd look, her brow furrowed. "You okay? You seem off today."

I smiled weakly, trying to shake off the tension in my chest. "I’m fine. Just a little distracted."

She raised an eyebrow. “You sure? You’ve been acting… different lately. Like, quiet. And you keep looking at Westley.”

I froze. “What?” My voice was too sharp, too defensive.

She laughed lightly, not picking up on the discomfort in my tone. “Oh, come on. Don’t pretend you’re not aware of him. Everyone’s been talking about it.”

“Talking about what?”

She leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “How Westley was staring at you earlier. It was kind of intense. Like, he couldn’t stop looking at you. What’s going on between you two?”

I felt a knot form in my stomach, my throat tightening. “Nothing is going on,” I said, perhaps too quickly. “He’s just some guy in my class. No big deal.”

Rhea seemed unconvinced, but she didn’t push the matter. Instead, she just gave me a knowing smile. “Okay, okay. I just thought you might be keeping something from me. I wouldn’t be surprised, though. I mean, Westley is… well, he’s Westley.”

“Yeah,” I said quietly, feeling the familiar discomfort creep up my spine. “He’s… just Westley.”

But as Rhea moved on to talk about the latest school gossip, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed. The way Westley looked at me, the way his presence seemed to settle over the room—it was more than just a passing curiosity. It was almost like he was trying to understand something about me, something deeper than surface-level small talk or a passing glance.

I didn’t know what to make of it.

The rest of the lunch period passed in a haze, my mind constantly wandering back to the moment Westley had looked at me in the courtyard. I couldn’t quite explain it, but I felt as if there was more to his actions than I was willing to admit.

And for the first time in a long time, I wondered if I might be... ready to talk to him. To see what was underneath that snobbish exterior.

The thought lingered, swirling in my mind as the day went on. It was strange. I’d always told myself I was content with my quiet, uncomplicated life. I didn’t need drama, didn’t need anyone trying to fix me. But the pull of his gaze, the mystery that surrounded him, was starting to make me question everything.

By the time the school bell rang, signaling the end of the day, I was already lost in my thoughts again. I grabbed my bag, preparing to leave, when I heard it again. That voice. Westley’s voice.

“Cieny.”

I didn’t turn around immediately. My feet were frozen to the floor, as if my body couldn’t decide whether to move forward or to stay in the safety of my own thoughts.

But then, slowly, I turned.

He was standing there, leaning against the lockers, watching me like he had all the time in the world.

“I need to talk to you,” he said, his voice quieter now.

I could feel the eyes of the other students on us, their whispered conversations like a distant hum in the background. My heart was pounding in my chest, and my hands suddenly felt clammy.

This was it.

This was the moment I had been avoiding.

And I couldn’t help but wonder: What did he really want from me?