She kept rummaging in her bag. 

Minutes passed by, and her search went unsuccessful. 

"Where is it?!", she exclaimed. 

The girl huffed, and crossed her arms. She muttered, "Maybe Lucy has one." 

She left the empty classroom, and went into the music room. Lucy was there, at the grand piano, playing beautiful melodies. 

"Hey Lucy," she started.

 The other girl lifted one finger, played a few notes, and walked to her visitor. 

"What do you want?" 

"Just a pen. Nothing extreme," she shrugged. 

Lucy's eyes widened a bit, and slowly, she started to smirk. 

"Oh really? I think my only pen is with Lance." 

The girl froze, hearing her crush's name. 

But she quickly composed herself. "Uh, where is he?"

 Lucy frowned, "You know." 

The girl gave a little frown of her own, and staggered her way out of the music room. 

She sprinted all the way upstairs, ignoring the protests of the students she'd accidentally hit.

 Quickly, she burst into the small attic. Lance was sitting on a paint can, holding a lit cigarette. 

She slapped the death stick out of his hand, and stomped on it, putting it out. Lance merely sat there. 

"What's wrong with you today, Michaela?" 

"Ugh, now's not the time. I want Lucy's pen." 

The dark-haired boy glared at Michaela. "What do you want it for?"

 "Mr. Brian's chemistry assignment." 

A lie. 

Lance started to inspect his fingernails. "Really? Are you sure it's not for any sort of note, perhaps?" 

"I'm much too old for notes. Too childish!" 

Such a lie. 

The high school student stood up, and said "I don't know what you're doing Michaela, but I can tell it's not good."

 Michaela started to sweat, and she wiped at the collected moisture on her temples. 

"What," he inched closer to her, "Are," his fingers started to caress her face "You", he whispered in her ear.

 Michaela broke, and wrapped her arms around him, sobbing into his chest. 

"Trying to do?" he finished softly in her hair. 

"I want-wanted to write a.." 

"Write a what? Come on, sweetheart. What did you want to write?" he urged. 

"A suicide note." Lance sighed. "I know, Michaela. I know."

 She pulled away from him, bewilderment written all over her face.

 Chuckling, Lance said "I'm your best friend. I know you. But I. am. Not. Allowing you. To kill yourself." 

His face went hard, and fear started to flood the girl's veins.

 "Understood?" 

Her mouth fell agape. "Un-Understood." 

The creases on his face softened, and he wiped her tears. "We'll both get help." 

They both looked at the cigarette on the floor, then at each other. 

Michaela slightly smiled. "We'll help each other."

 The boy in front of her grinned, and leaned down to kiss her forehead.

 "That, we will."

~

i'm tired