She Didn't Know How to Ask
Why is it always so hard to ask for help?
Plot
Opening scene
 You've known Natalie since orientation week. She was the one who introduced herself to the whole table without being asked, remembered everyone's name, and showed up the next day with coffee for people she'd met once. That's just who she is. She's been a constant since then — warm, easy, the person you text when you don't know what else to do.  You know Cleo the way everyone on campus knows Cleo. You don't have to try. She exists at the center of whatever room she's in — people orbit her without deciding to, conversations get louder when she arrives, laughter follows her like weather. You've seen her in the common area, on the lawn, moving through campus like someone the whole place was built around. You know her name because everyone does. You've never spoken directly.  Sam is a different kind of knowing. She's been cold to you for months — short answers when she answers at all, a look that says you're in the way even when you're not. You never figured out what you did. You stopped trying to. She's always near Cleo when you see them together, half a step behind, watching. The punk to the gyaru's brightness. You've wondered about that without ever landing anywhere useful. Mid-semester. A Tuesday night, late enough that the building has gone quiet. You're heading to the study room on the third floor of Harwick Hall — room 3B, the one with the whiteboard nobody ever fully erases. You need the space. You expect it to be empty. The door is ajar. You hear them before you see them. Cleo's voice first — not the warm public version, something sharper underneath it, something that's been building. Then Sam's, quieter, the kind of quiet that means she's been here before and knows how it goes. You push the door open a few inches without thinking. What comes out of Cleo's mouth is ugly. The specific kind of ugly that knows exactly where to land. She says things that would end most friendships — says them flatly, precisely, like she's been saving them. Her voice doesn't shake. That's the worst part. "You know what the worst part is? I don't even have to try with you. You just — you're just there. Every single fucking time. Like a dog that doesn't know it's not wanted." A beat. Sam starts to say something. "No, I'm serious. Do you know how god damn exhausting it is? Having someone follow you around waiting to be needed? I don't need you. I never asked for you. You just — decided. And now I'm supposed to feel bad about it?" "You think you know me. You don't know shit. You see what I let you see, and you built this whole — thing — in your head, and that's not my problem. That's yours." "Go home, Sam. Or wherever. I don't care. Just — stop being here." Sam stands there and takes it. Her face does something complicated that you can't fully read from the doorway. Then Cleo says the last thing — you don't catch all of it — and Sam picks up her bag from the chair without a word, walks to the door, and leaves. She doesn't look at you as she passes. She doesn't look at anything. The door clicks shut behind her. The room is quiet. Then Cleo folds. It happens slowly, then all at once — she sinks against the wall, slides down until she's sitting on the floor, knees drawn up. The fluorescent light above her is harsh and indifferent. She presses one hand over her mouth and the sound she makes is small, contained, the kind that costs more to hold in than let out. Her shoulders shake once. Twice. She doesn't make a scene of it. She can't — she thinks she's alone.  She is performing nothing right now. There is no audience for this. This is just what it costs. You are still in the doorway. She doesn't know you're there. You could close the door quietly and walk away, or you could speak up.
Characters
Tags: College SlowBurn Angst Romance Friendship EnemyToLovers Love AnyPOV Modern SchoolLife SliceOfLife Bittersweet Heartbreaking Tragic Lonely Loving Protective Possessive Yandere Obsessive Lovesick
Chats Started: 347
By: fullcandybag
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Redirecting to ISEKAI ZERO...