for a moment i saw myself as inexorably beautiful

come-hold-my-hand

She doesn't actually go to the athletics building for her own sake much at all, but she has enough scatterbrained friends with social anxiety that she does actually know the answer to this one. "Its at the front desk, under the counter."

She starts heading that way, vaguely reaching out a hand for Vera to hold without really thinking about it.

She stares at the offered hand for a moment, then takes it. The contact helps immediately, the pounding in her head easing back to something manageable.

"Good," she says grudgingly. She doesn't comment on the hand-holding.

They make their way back through the dark corridors to the front desk. She vaults over the counter easily - and starts rifling through the bins underneath.

"Here." She pulls out a plastic bag with clothes inside. Cara's clothes, along with her keys and wallet. "Check if everything's there."

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That's all her clothes, her key... she flips open the wallet and verifies her ID cards are in there.

She nods, opting not to say "Well, my phone is gone..."

She vaults back over the counter (boing), grabbing Cara's wrist again.

"Your apartment. Let's go."

She pulls her toward the exit, moving fast. They've been lucky so far - no security, no one else wandering around. But luck doesn't last, and she wants to be gone before it runs out.

Outside, the cold air hits them both. She doesn't slow down, dragging Cara across campus toward the off-campus housing. Her grip is tight enough to bruise.

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Ow :(

She does her best to keep up.

"Which building?" She doesn't know where Cara lives, only that it's off-campus somewhere. The streets are mostly empty at this hour, just the occasional car passing by.

She's still pulling Cara along, but she slows slightly. No point exhausting her before they even get there. She needs her functional enough to pack what they need.

"And walk faster. We look suspicious."

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Her complex is visible from here - she points it out. "That building. Fifth floor."

At the command, she pushes herself to walk faster, though in the privacy of her own mind, she thinks Vera is being pretty stupid about this. Two college students grabbing stuff from a room on a Friday night is extremely normal! It only looks suspicious if one is anxiously dragging the other as they hurry for no clear reason!

Fifth floor. Of course it's the fifth floor. She's already calculating - elevator or stairs? Elevator means potential witnesses. Stairs mean more time exposed.

"Key," she says, holding out her free hand. She's not letting go of Cara's wrist with the other.

The building looms ahead, lit windows scattered across its face. Too many people still awake. Too many potential problems.

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She obligingly hands over her room key, blissfully unaware of the latest turmoil brewing in Vera's head.

(It's definitely at least slightly more suspicious if Vera is the one with her key! But also Vera is not a fan of receiving unsolicited input, and it's probably not that big a deal. Man, cooperating is a lot of work...)

She pockets the key and pulls Cara into the building. The lobby is mercifully empty - just fluorescent lights and worn carpet. She heads straight for the stairwell.

"Stairs," she mutters, pushing the door open. "Less chance of running into your friends."

Five flights. Her legs are already tired from the day, but she starts climbing anyway, dragging Cara behind her. The stairwell echoes with their footsteps.

"When we get there, you pack fast. Clothes, laptop, medication, whatever else you need for a week. Nothing extra."

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She nods - it's easier than replying verbally, and she's more worn out than Vera is.

She does her best to hurry up the stairs without tripping; she has a close call, but manages to avoid it.

Fifth floor. Finally. She pushes through the stairwell door, checking the hallway. Empty, thank fuck.

"Which one?" she asks, already moving down the hall. The numbers blur together - 501, 503, 505...

She can hear music from behind one door, muffled conversation from another. Too many people still awake. She tightens her grip on Cara's wrist, ready to play the drunk girlfriend card again if someone opens a door.

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Ow. She doesn't keep the pain off her face - she has to answer the question. "Five twenty."

She finds 520, unlocks it quickly, and shoves Cara inside before following and closing the door behind them.

The apartment is...

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Tiny, sparsely decorated (a few landscape photo prints), and messy, but not overwhelmingly so.

Cara heads straight into her room, as instructed. Her backpack already has her laptop, so she stuffs in her sleeping mask and a week's worth of clothes, aiming to keep it light (a sleeveless dress like the one she had on this morning, tank tops and crop tops, shorts and skirts, underwear). She'll take her sandals instead of bothering with socks.

She follows Cara into the bedroom, watching her pack. The efficiency is good - no dawdling, no hesitation. Just grabbing what she needs.

"Medication," she reminds her, leaning against the doorframe. "And toiletries. Toothbrush, whatever."

She glances around the room while Cara packs. It's simple, clean. Nothing that screams 'personality' except maybe the color of the bedsheets. Good. Less memorable if anyone asks about her.

"And leave a note on your door. Something about awakening, being with a friend, back in a week. In case anyone comes looking."

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She nods and heads into the bathroom, grabbing 6 different pill bottles, her toothbrush, zit cream, and floss. Her backpack strains when she tries to zip it, but she manages after a struggle.

She frowns and starts looking around. "Not sure if I have any tape... I dunno if anyone would come by here without checking my socials first, though?"

"We're doing it anyway." She spots a pad of sticky notes on Cara's desk, grabs it along with a pen. "Write it. Stick it on the outside of your door."

She watches Cara write, then checks the time on her phone. Past midnight now. They need to get back before someone notices she's been gone too long.

"Laptop?" she asks, then sees it's already in the bag. "Good. Let's go."

She heads for the door, pulling Cara along. The sooner they're out of here, the better.

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Ah, whatever. She writes the note as instructed. (Her handwriting is pretty bad, but it's legible. Barely).

she slides her backpack on, sagging a bit from the weight, then it's time to be dragged out by Vera.

She locks the door behind them, pockets the key. No going back now.

The hallway is still empty. Good. She heads for the stairs again - five flights down, then the walk back to campus. Her legs are already protesting, but she ignores them.

"Keep up," she mutters, taking the stairs two at a time. The backpack is slowing Cara down, but that's not her problem. They need to move.

At the bottom, she pauses, listening. No voices. She pushes through the lobby, out into the cold night air. The walk back feels longer, but maybe that's just exhaustion setting in.

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The weight and hurrying downwards are a bad combo! She trips getting off the staircase, pitching forwards towards Vera with a small yelp.

She catches Cara automatically, hands gripping her upper arms to steady her. The sudden full-body contact makes her head clear for a moment.

"Jesus. Walk properly." But she doesn't immediately let go, letting the contact linger for just a second longer than necessary before shoving Cara upright.

She grabs Cara's wrist again, but her grip is marginally less bruising this time. They're almost back. Just need to get to her dorm without any more incidents.

come-hold-my-hand

-oh, Vera didn't let her fall this time. That's nice, even if it probably was for pragmatic reasons.

(Her skinned knee stings. Her backpack straps digs into the bite wound on her shoulder. The grip on her wrist isn't helping either, though she faintly notices that it hurts less than before. Against her will, her eyes water.)

She follows in silence.

The walk back is quiet. She keeps them moving at a steady pace, not too fast to draw attention but fast enough to get this over with. Campus is mostly dead now - just the occasional drunk student stumbling home from a party.

Back at her dorm, she pulls Cara up the stairs one more time. Her room is exactly as they left it - windows still open, the smell mostly dissipated but not gone. She closes the door behind them, locks it.

"Put your stuff down," she says, finally releasing Cara's wrist. "Get the laptop out. Do whatever you need to do with the social media stuff."

She sits on the bed, exhausted. It's been such a long fucking day.

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