Chapter 64 - Sick of Love

Nobody has ever brought up what happened on that karaoke night. It was as if we all silently agreed to bury it in the depths of our collective embarrassment. By Sunday, our group chat had become a ghost town—no jokes, no memes, not even a simple "good morning."

Maybe we were all too mortified to bring it up. Or maybe the upcoming exams had stolen what little energy we had left, leaving us buried under notes and textbooks.

The next week was midterms—a dreaded period of gloom and monotony. Written examinations filled the days with endless scribbling, erasures, and the rhythmic tapping of pens against desks. The usual energy of Orbital Tech was snuffed out; even the livelier students had succumbed to the weight of academia. Mornings were met with groggy faces as students shuffled to school like programmed drones.

Afternoons were spent huddled in the library, forming study groups that whispered and scribbled away like conspirators. Even Neil and Remuel, who were rarely known for taking school seriously, had straightened up and buried their noses in books.

Nothing exciting happened that week. Nothing at all.

Well, maybe except for the last day of exams. Neil, who was usually the first to crack jokes or slack off during study sessions, was strangely absent from our group in the library that day. I'd also noticed he made a beeline for home right after our History exam, looking uncharacteristically pale and distant.

"Where's Neil?" Dianca asked, her brows furrowing as she flipped through her notes.

"Um, he said he wasn't feeling well," Fei answered nervously, her fingers tangling in her long black hair. "Something about his stomach acting up."

"Let's hope he catches up on the readings on his own," Remuel said, shrugging nonchalantly as he adjusted his glasses. Note: Remuel only wore those glasses just to look smart, but he's still dumb as a brick.

And that was that. Our study session carried on, as uneventful as the week itself. Nothing noteworthy. Just the quiet murmur of voices, the scratching of pens on paper, and the occasional yawn breaking the silence.

But then, at around ten that evening, just when I'd finally given my frazzled brain a break with some funny racist videos, something peculiar happened. Neil left our group chat. No warning, no explanation. Just gone.

The chat, already quiet from a week of exam stress, seemed even emptier without him. I scrolled through our previous conversations, noticing the mundane chatter from earlier that day: Myrrh setting up the study session venue so Dianca could join us, a few jokes sprinkled here and there. But now? Only silence, and the strange, lingering question of why Neil left without a word.

It was a mystery why Neil left the group chat so abruptly. My mind buzzed with curiosity, but before I could even process the situation further, my phone vibrated. It was Myrrh.

Myrrh: Hey, have you checked up on Neil?

Myrrh: Why did he leave our group chat?

Her messages came in rapid succession, each one sharper than the last.

Me: Beats me. I'll try to contact him.

Myrrh: I already sent him a message, but he just left it at "seen." The audacity of that lowlife!

Myrrh: Do you know how many people would go head over heels just to beg me to send them a message? And here he is, not even bothering to reply!

Myrrh: Anyway, you should check on Neil. Something feels off.

I couldn't help but smirk as I read her flurry of indignation. Myrrh's blend of vanity and concern was oddly endearing, and it gave me an idea. A small prank wouldn't hurt, right?

I decided to leave her on "seen" just to mess with her. Setting my phone down on my pillow, I chuckled to myself. The mental image of her fuming at my silence was too good to pass up. With that, I grabbed a casual outfit, threw it on, and headed out of my room.

Neil's room wasn't far, and the walk felt strangely quiet, the usual dorm chatter muffled by the weight of exams and exhaustion. When I reached his door, I noticed the faint glow of light filtering through the overhead window—a clear sign he was still inside.

I knocked three times, the sound echoing faintly in the quiet hallway.

"Neil?" I called out, my voice firm but laced with concern. "Are you there?"

For a moment, there was only silence—a heavy, lingering stillness that seemed to stretch on for longer than it should. Just as I raised my hand to knock again, the door creaked open.

Neil stood there, and the sight of him nearly made me take a step back. His rugged brown hair was an unkempt mess, sticking out in odd angles as though he'd been tossing and turning all night. His face was pale, almost ghostly, and the dark shadows under his eyes made him look like he hadn't slept in days.

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For a split second, I remembered his condition—his mysterious illness, the one that caused crimson veins to glow faintly beneath his skin. But tonight, I saw no trace of those veins, only a hollow weariness etched into his expression.

"Oh, Zaft." His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. He looked like a zombie forcing itself to appear alive, the corners of his mouth twitching in an attempt at a smile.

"Neil, are you okay? Everyone's worried about you," I asked, trying to keep my voice steady despite the unease bubbling in my chest.

"Oh, I'm fine." He gave a weak, almost dismissive smile, but it was clear to anyone with eyes that he wasn't. His shoulders slumped like he was carrying a weight far heavier than just exhaustion.

"Should I call an ambulance?" I offered, my concern mounting as I studied his frail form.

"No, seriously, I'm fine, Zaft," he scoffed weakly, patting my shoulder as if to reassure me. His hand was cold, his grip light. "I've just been feeling a little under the weather lately. But I promise, it's not my... condition. Just plain old insomnia, that's all."

"Insomnia, huh?" I muttered, raising an eyebrow. "So, aside from the supposed stomachache, now you're battling sleepless nights too? Maybe you shouldn't have drunk so much last Saturday."

Neil blinked, his brows furrowing in genuine confusion. "Stomachache? I didn't have a stomachache. Who told you that?"

His response caught me off guard, and I stood there for a moment, searching his face for answers. The unease I'd felt earlier was starting to morph into something else—a quiet, gnawing suspicion.

"Fei did," I said plainly. "She's really worried about you."

"Fei? Worried about me?" Neil let out a dry, sarcastic scoff, his lips curling in disbelief. "Really? Not in a million years."

I didn't like the way he sneered at her concern, the bitterness in his tone leaving a sour taste in the air. But I decided to let it slide. There was no point in arguing about it now. Instead, pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place in my mind. Fei and Neil had a lovers' quarrel—that much was clear. Neil's insomnia and strange behavior suddenly made sense. Fei's lie about the stomachache was probably just her way of covering up the tension, sparing the rest of us from the awkwardness of their spat.

"You guys had a fight, didn't you?" I asked, keeping my voice calm but probing.

Neil didn't answer. His gaze shifted downward, and he bit his lip ever so slightly, a subtle yet telling gesture. He didn't need to say a word—I already had my confirmation.

"Alright, I won't press," I said with a shrug, deciding to leave it at that. I could always tease them both later, once the exams were over and things had settled down. I waved my hand casually. "Anyway, if you need anything—anything at all—just give me a call, alright?"

Neil's expression softened for the first time that night. A small, genuine smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "Alright. I'll call if something comes up. Goodnight, Zaft."

"Yeah, goodnight."

The door clicked shut behind him, leaving me standing in the dimly lit hallway. I exhaled, relieved to see him smile even if only for a moment. Turning on my heel, I headed back to my room.

As soon as I stepped inside, my phone lit up, vibrating furiously on my pillow. A flood of notifications filled the screen, all from the same person.

As I entered my room, my phone was practically glowing with life, buzzing furiously on the pillow. Picking it up, I found an avalanche of messages—all from Myrrh.

Myrrh: Hey, why won't you reply???

Myrrh: Are you seriously leaving me at "seen"???

Myrrh: How dare you, Zaft!!!

Myrrh: Wait, did I say something to offend you? :'(

Myrrh: Why aren't you replying? Please don't leave me at seen (ᗒᗣᗕ)՞

Myrrh: Please (⁠╥⁠﹏⁠╥⁠)

I let out a deep sigh, running a hand through my hair. Myrrh's messages were a rollercoaster of indignation, worry, and dramatic pleading—all classic Myrrh. With a resigned chuckle, I finally started typing.

Me: I just went to Neil. He's pretty sleepless, but he said he's fine.

Me: No signs of his mysterious sickness either. But he's dealing with another kind of sickness.

Her reply was almost instant, like she'd been waiting with her thumbs hovering over her keyboard.

Myrrh: There you go! So, what is it???

I smirked, taking my time before responding.

Me: He's kind of lovesick. Apparently, Fei and Neil had a quarrel, but I didn't dig too deep.

Her response came back almost as fast as the first.

Myrrh: That's not the meaning of lovesick, dumbass. It's a lover's spat.

I couldn't resist teasing her a little more.

Me: I meant it like he's sick of his love. Because they're quarreling. Get it? lol.

Me: ( ≧ᗜ≦)

For a moment, I stared at the screen, waiting for her reaction. The playful back-and-forth felt oddly comforting after the tense encounter with Neil.

Myrrh: ( – ⌓ – )

Myrrh: Well, it's normal for lovers to have a quarrel. Just give them some privacy and space, and their relationship will heal in no time.

I raised an eyebrow at her sudden wisdom, fingers hovering over my keyboard as I typed out my response.

Me: Did you and Ephraim quarrel a lot?

A few seconds passed, and then her reply appeared.

Myrrh: Not really, except during the last months of our relationship, when he started cheating with that ugly junkie Clarisse. Anyway, I don't want to talk about it.

Me: You just talked about it.

Her reply was swift, almost like she was shutting the conversation down before it could go any further.

Myrrh: I'm not here to debate, okay. We still have exams tomorrow, so let's focus on that. Goodnight.

Me: K.

I sighed, tossing my phone onto the desk and letting the tension of the day melt away. My bed was calling me, promising a temporary escape from the puzzles and dramas that had cropped up. Just as I was about to lie down, my phone buzzed again.

I groaned, expecting another barrage of messages from Myrrh, but when I glanced at the screen, my heart skipped a beat.

It wasn't Myrrh.

It was Neil.

For a moment, panic bubbled in my chest. Neil had said he'd message me if something was wrong, and his sudden text in the dead of night couldn't mean anything good. My fingers shook slightly as I unlocked my phone, only to be greeted by a message that sent my mind spinning with more questions than answers.

Neil: Let's meet at the male restroom, 4th floor, right after our exams.

I stared at the message, the words swimming in my vision as my thoughts raced. Why the restroom? Why after exams? What did Neil want to tell me that couldn't wait?