Yearning for her (wlw)

Friends

Seraphina’s pov

I stood in my living room, marble gleaming beneath the soft hush of evening. My reflection stared back from polished stone: black trousers molded to my legs, a white shirt undone at the collar, leather coat slung over my shoulders like a crown. Stilettos clicked against the floor, each step a declaration.

Untouchable. That's what I was. That's what I wanted to be.

And yet, three familiar faces marred the perfection of the scene. Three smiling nuisances, bags in hand, lined up in front of me as if this were some sort of comedy act staged for my amusement.

My silence could break men, shatter loyalty, bring kingdoms to their knees—but not them. They only stood taller. Damon's left eye twitched, though. He thought I didn't notice. I always noticed.

"You idiots," I said at last, my tone glacial, each syllable designed to cut. "Why are you here... with luggages?"

Damon's shrug was theatrical, almost lazy, his grin a dagger he thought was harmless. "We can't exactly travel without it, little fox."

The nickname clawed at me. I leveled him with a stare sharp enough to slice open his chest and peer inside. He only grinned wider, i***t.

"Traveling?" My voice dripped with venomous amusement as I crossed my arms. "When exactly did I authorize that?"

Claire, with her platinum mane and practiced elegance, flicked her hair as though dismissing the weight of my authority. "You didn't think we'd let you leave alone, did you?"

A laugh slipped out of me, low and cold. "I don't need babysitters."

The words were knives. My final word should have been enough.

"Get. Lost."

Damon clutched at his chest like some tragic hero. "Cold-hearted fox. Can't you let us tag along? We'd be—"

"You?" I cut him short, disdain curling my lips. "You're nothing but trouble. A distraction dressed as a man."

Before he could retort, Tyler's calm voice threaded through the tension. His composure was infuriating.

"We're not letting you leave alone, Phina. You may not want us there, but you'll need us."

"I need no one." My tone was a blade, honed on years of blood and betrayal.

Claire's smirk carried all the arrogance of a queen. "We already transferred schools. You can't be rid of us that easily. Might as well share the jet, since we're all heading in the same direction."

I tilted my head and let the smallest laugh fall from my lips. It wasn't amusement; it was the sound that made hardened killers hesitate, the sound that made my bodyguards shift uneasily by the door. It was silk wrapping steel. A warning.

"Don't tempt me," I said softly, my voice a velvet snare. "I won't hesitate to kill you."

Damon, reckless to his marrow, took a step forward anyway. His grin trembled, but it held. "As long as you carry our corpses with you, little fox."

For a long moment, I only stared. My silence pressed against them like a hand at their throats. I could feel Damon's heartbeat quicken, Claire's posture stiffen, Tyler's gaze steady even as his jaw tightened. They thought I was deciding whether or not to end them. They weren't wrong.

But what flickered through me wasn't fury. It was something heavier, quieter. A weight I carried too long—the knowledge that everyone close to me either rotted in the ground or had turned their back on me. I didn't want these three to be next.

Yet here they were. Refusing to leave, as always.

"Idiots," I muttered, turning sharply on my heel. My coat flared behind me as I strode toward the waiting jet.

Behind me, I heard their laughter—soft, shared, victorious. They knew I'd let them win. Again.

Even fear didn't drive them away. Somehow, they still stayed.

"My sweet Phina," Damon cooed, sliding an arm over my shoulders with suicidal boldness. "You look gorgeous. Marry me already."

I cut him a look, sharp enough to silence the room. "It's not too late to bury you in the cargo hold."

He dropped his arm, pouting. "Heartless fox."

The laughter that followed sounded almost... normal. Almost.

But when I stepped onto the jet, I vanished into my cabin, closing the door behind me.

They didn't understand.

I didn't either.

Why they stayed. Why they cared. Why they kept following me when I gave them every reason to run.

All I knew was this:

I didn't deserve them.

~

Elowen’s pov

The alarm split the quiet of my room, vibrating against the nightstand like an uninvited guest. My eyes cracked open, heavy with the weight of dreams I couldn't quite remember. For a moment, I lay there, motionless, staring at the ceiling as if it might offer an excuse to stay buried beneath my sheets.

School.

Not a new year, not a fresh start—just the continuation of everything I already knew. Routine. Noise. Faces I'd grown used to. Nothing in me leapt at the thought. But still, a small curve of warmth spread through my chest at the reminder that Hayley would be there, waiting, probably loud, probably overbearing—but my best friend. She was the only part of school that felt less like a duty and more like gravity.

I slipped out of bed and padded toward the bathroom, the tiles cold against my bare feet. The shower hissed to life, steam curling up, wrapping me in its ghostly warmth.

I stood there longer than I should have, letting the water hit the back of my neck, fingers pressed into my scalp as if the weight of thought might wash away.

But thoughts never left so easily.

By the time I stepped out, towel draped around me, I was already sorting through my wardrobe in my head. Dressing was never an afterthought—it was a language.

Today, I needed something that spoke without shouting. The flare gown with a halter neck—elegant, fluid, commanding without looking like I tried. My fingers slid across the fabric, and when I pulled it over my skin, it fit like it had been waiting.

I dried my hair, brushed it through, and let it fall down my back in its natural waves. Control didn't always mean effort—it meant knowing when to let things be. I studied myself in the mirror. Not vanity, not quite. More like inventory. What did the world see? What would I let them see? My lips tilted into the faintest smile, one that never reached my eyes. Enough.

Downstairs, Mum's voice met me before her figure did. "I made something. Eat before you leave." Like she knew if she didn't urge me I wouldn't.

The sight of her at the table—warm, steady—unraveled something inside me I rarely showed. I pressed a kiss to her cheek and slid into my seat, letting her food ground me the way it always did.

"Your dishes are still the best," I murmured, words muffled through a mouthful. She chuckled, warning me not to choke, but her eyes softened, and that was enough.

When I left, the air outside tasted sharper, the kind that made you breathe deeper. The bus came slow, rattling its way down the street, and I climbed aboard, slipping into my usual corner by the window.

The ride blurred past—shifting streets, familiar buildings, a reflection of myself staring back whenever I looked at the glass. I tilted my head, studying her. Studying me. There was always something in my own eyes I couldn't name, something hidden even from myself.

And then the school gates rose ahead. The halls buzzed with bodies, laughter, careless noise. My heartbeat barely changed—until I heard her.

"Elowen!"

That voice was impossible to mistake.

Hayley came at me like a storm contained in human form, arms flung around me in a hug so suffocating I almost laughed. Almost.

"Hayley," I exhaled into her shoulder, the ghost of a smile tugging at my lips.

"I missed you so much!" She pouted, still holding on.

"I can't breathe," I muttered, wriggling half-heartedly.

She let go, feigning offense. "You didn't miss me."

"I did," I said, more softly than I intended. "It was boring without you."

Her grin stretched wide. "I'll forgive you... because you somehow got prettier."

I arched a brow, flicking her arm. "You too. And a lot more insufferable."

She squeaked when I pinched her, then linked her arm with mine as if it was her right. We fell into step, the current of students carrying us toward the lecture hall.

We slid into our usual seats, the noise around us fading until it was only her voice. She leaned in, eyes gleaming like she'd been waiting to spill a secret.

"You probably haven't heard."

I narrowed my gaze. "If it's gossip—"

"The dean accepted four new transfer students."

My expression didn't change. "And?"

"After the break," she pressed, lowering her tone. "In our final year. That never happens."

I shrugged, feigning disinterest. "Probably Rich kids."

Her smirk was wicked. "Not just rich—foreigners. I bet they're hot."

"You're impossible."

"Relationships are overrated," she sighed, tossing her hair. "Look at you. Still single, even though you believe in love."

Her words scraped against a truth I didn't care to examine. Love had always been something I kept at arm's length. Not because I didn't want it—because I didn't trust it.

Hayley nudged me. "Try girls."

I flicked her forehead, watching her flinch. "I'm straight you dummy."

She laughed, loud, carefree, catching attention from every direction. People always looked at her—tall, magnetic, untamed. She lived like nothing touched her, though I knew better. We both carried things we never named.

I sat back, eyes on the empty desk ahead, letting her laughter wash over me. Outside, life moved in its usual rhythm. Inside, something in me coiled tighter. Restless. Waiting.

Control was a mask I wore well. But sometimes, even masks cracked.

And today, it felt like the first tremor.