when ache arrives, put it on paper.
it is here to hurt your heart.
use it to save your art. - noor unnahar

recap of chapter five: carson and eilish end in a small argument about singing (not just singing, but more on how eilish is unfair), and for the first time, eilish notices carson unhappy.

S E V E N

S T E R E O T Y P E

It is a critically acclaimed fact that guilt is one of the most tempting things to walk the Earth. Eilish Dawson doesn't feel guilt. At least I thought she didn't.

Turns out I am wrong. I'm experiencing it right now, the sickening feeling lolling off the depths of my mind.

The science lab is dark today, the breeze of five am drifting through the air, gleam of sun shooting through the bars of our window. It's a sad sight, really. Makes you think of how much you've missed out on life, how much you're still refusing to welcome.

I stare at the potion again, the symbol that Everett has made in order for us to stay motivated. The bubbles still rise, but they don't captivate me as much anymore.

The door thumps in a low screech, and I don't have to look to know that it's Carson. He strides to my place and I remain affixed to watching the sunrise, letting my thoughts become my drug, soaking in the silence.

I remain distracted until I feel his palm on my shoulder.

"Hey. I didn't know you went to school this early," he says casually. He doesn't bring up the issue of yesterday, and I have no intention of doing so either.

"Yeah. Helps forget the pain," I explain. "Why are you so early today?"

"My little sister likes going to school at these hours. I usually drive around town, but I just wanted to hang here for a while."

"Oh." Nothing else worth talking about pops into my head, so I break eye contact without another word.

The silence is loud. It hurts my ears, and I want to do anything to rid myself of this, to just finish the experiment. But the lab has turned to a place of solace, where I could hang out without the world caging me in a box.

"Do we have any homework due today?"

It's funny he'd ask that question, let alone care about any academic requirements.

"Yeah. We have that one assignment for history, and --"

"We do?!"

"Yeah. Answer page ten,"

Carson scrolls through his bag but finds nothing related to history.

"Who cares, I just hope we don't have history later,"

Silence dawns on us once more, as there is only the soft chirp of the birds outside. I cling tighter to my jacket while the wind is flying through my hair.

"Carson, I just wanted to say sorry," I begin sheepishly. I want to eliminate this problem already, instead of dwelling in this emptiness for a longer time. "I messed up, and I hope you understand that I didn't want to look so selfish. I wasn't comfortable with singing yet," My eyes automatically fly to the floor, waiting for his response.

"Apology unaccepted," he says. I look up, but the ghost of a smile is plastered onto his face.

"What?" I excalim. "Why?"

"Because I don't want to forgive you," he says, ending up in a series of laughs.

"Come on, please?" He still laughs, and I have to slap him on the shoulder to get him out of it.

"No. I'll forgive you when I'm ready,"

I roll my eyes. Apologies are made when someone has done something wrong. When a person says sorry, people don't always accept that immediately. But Carson does not function like that. He makes you wait before accepting it, despite the factors that say he is no longer mad.

"Hey Carson,"

"What?"

"You know, I honestly wasn't expecting you to be. . ." I scan my head, searching for the right words. "to be like this,"

"Unforgiving?"

"No. You're. . . you're not the stereotypical figure you should be,"

"So? What's wrong with that?" he says this with a tilt of his head, childhish maneuvers subtly showing.

"Nothing." I defend quickly. "In fact, I think it's so much better," Carson lights up, and if you thought he couldn't be happier, he is. "People have this mind set that popular males are dumb jocks or bad boys." I begin, cringing at the mere thought.

"But, I don't think I have to explain any further for my point to get across," Carson pauses with a curious daze, weighing his ideas. "I don't understand." he says.

"What does stereotypical mean?"

"It means. . . what people expect of you. Like, when you of hear the word 'popular', you get ideas of mean girls, jocks, and brainless plastics," Carson listens like a small puppy, hearing my every word. "When in reality, popular people don't lie in the boundaries of athletes and meanies. They can be so much more than that,"

"Oh. But I don't want to beat the stereotypes, they're perfect as they are,"

"Dude, are you kidding me?" I ask, frustrated. "Stereotypes are just stupid ideas that limit people from --"

"Relax, I was kidding!" he says, laughing. "Stereotypes are idiotic, you said so yourself,"

I look at him again, wondering if it is a good decision to have a mature conversation with him.

"And you know what? You don't seem to be too annoyed," he cheers proudly. "You didn't even pause to explain to me what a stereotype is,"

The action speaks for itself, the words cutting through my flesh and sewing the parts until I accept myself, until the tremor of laughs exit my system, until I am finally able to believe that change, as small as this, is possible.

a u t h o r ' s
n o t e

Finally, I have a ten day break with all the time for writing. For some reason, I felt inspired while writing this and loved how it turned out.

I wanted to beat the stereotypes, especially because Wattpad is filled to the brim with cliches. Men in high school don't always have to be popular bad boys drenched in leather jackets never leaving their motorcycles alone. I'm done with their sexual innuendoes, and I'm done with the nerds magically changing them to a softy. The ideas now have come to me as plain and unoriginal, and I hate how the nerds and populars in every story are just caged in boxes, never given a chance to be different, to break the boundaries of what is expected of them.

Life lesson here; don't stereotype people, please. Just don't. Just because you expect someone to act like that doesn't mean they are like that.

This chapter made me even more excited to finish writing the story, and I honestly hope you guys get the point here. I'm growing on Carson & Eilish, and I hope you guys love them as much as I do.

l o v e ,
s t e l l a