#oth5

It was perfect running weather. It was cold but not too cold to where it was uncomfortable to be out in just leggings and a T-shirt, even at seven thirty. At the moment not too many people were out. A few serious runners and cyclists would pass by occasionally, but I was alone enough to notice how good it felt.

In college, I would use running as a distraction. Often it would be around the middle of the semester, in the thick of it all, when I'd go and run the football stadium or run varying loops across and around campus until my head was clear enough to focus.

To me, running was a way of slowing everything else down. When I was out and running I had nothing but the road ahead of me and ample opportunity to think through everything.

More often than not it wasn't schoolwork that I thought through, I didn't sort out a paper thesis or try to recall key terms when I ran or anything like that, but I'd think about how free I was.

I'd think about how lucky I was to be able enough to run, to be in college studying what I wanted to, to have the friends I had. I'd make up scenarios in my head and work through them as some way to get me through what I was doing while working out my emotions.

Sometimes I'd be gone for hours running and when I'd come home Cleo would chastise me for not taking my phone with me in case something happened. I'd just take the motherly attitude while I'd make a protein shake and she gave up eventually, knowing I wouldn't change.

My problem with running while in college was inconsistency. I would run every day for a month and then not run for two. Or run every day for two weeks and not run for three. It was something I loved when I did it and something I missed when I didn't, but until I moved here I was never consistent with running daily.

It's why Cleo nags me about being so healthy. I was almost as healthy back in college as I am now, except I'm more dedicated and consistent now.

While I was home looking for jobs once I'd graduated, I'd kind of fallen into a rut of terrible thinking. I would think about how I wasn't good enough and would never get a job and would then live at home forever and would be stuck dealing with my parents and not living up to my younger sister’s achievements and would be miserable my whole life and would end up a failure and alone.

Once I had moved to Chicago I realized that although the addition of a job and friends would add purpose and goodness to my life, I still needed to work and do simple things to try and be my best. So I made it my goal to maintain daily exercise and pay more attention to my already pretty good diet.

I used running as a time to escape, to be both full and empty of thought and the world surrounding me.

Right now I was thinking about work but I was also not thinking about work. It was a bit like the exercise Louis had me do the other week where he made me go through the ‘what if?’ scenario. My mind went through scenario after scenario and sorted through each one. I was able to think more clearly without focusing too much on reality and without dragged myself down with that reality.

I was thinking about the lives of the people that ran or biked past, was thinking about the lives of the people who came into the bakery, and the lives of the people who owned the boats I passed by in the harbour. Each a small scenario that subconsciously helped me process something in my own life.

Thinking without thinking.

I was steadfastly ignoring the ‘what if?’ scenarios regarding my mugging two weeks ago. Even the made-up scenarios would be too much, would weigh me down, slow my pace and hike my breathing… I wasn't ready to sort through any of those now, and probably wouldn't be for a while.

This was the reason I'd been so upset I was injured and incapable of running. I hadn't been able to think and process without thinking about what happened at all. I hadn't been able to escape my dark reality and just feel my strength and the wind on my face as I ran. I hadn't been able to feel my elated exhaustion as I carried myself forward, one step at a time until I reached whatever goal I'd set for myself that day.

Instead, I was forced to think, to wallow, to remain stagnant in the memories of that night. It's why when Brian was hesitant about me participating in class my first week I was so insistent. It was also why that first class was so instrumental in making me feel better, if only for a little while.

I could focus on not thinking, could focus on each little scenario I'd concocted in my head that prevented me from stopping during the harder segments of the class. It was a safe haven inside my mind for the first time in a week and even Brian could see the shift, even if it was only for the length of the hour-long class.

I still had the bad habit of leaving my phone at home when I would run. Even after what happened, even after all of the chastising Cleo had done in college, I couldn't force myself to bring it with me. I wanted to be free from it all, from reality.

If my mom ever found out that I didn't take my phone with me I would literally never hear the end of it. I know it's unsafe. I do. But I don't listen to music and being free from its weight, not carrying it with me for an hour or two, was a huge mood lifter.

We live in a society where most of our world happens on screens and therefore we must have some level of attachment to said screens. And then, of course, we’re made to feel guilty about the level of attachment, made to think it's inherently bad and we need to step back from our screens.

We do. Holistically we do, but I don't think we need to feel guilty about how much we do live through them. I don't think we should ignore the real life in front of our faces, but if we're making connections and learning and growing as a result of our screens then we shouldn't feel guilty.

Still, I like being away from my screen for this time. If I'm stepping back from reality when I run, that includes my app and web page reality as well. So despite my knowledge that it's unsafe, I leave my phone behind when I go for a run.

I was up in Evanston before I realized it. I could tell because not only did I know the beach I was next to, but most of the people passing by me now were clearly college students.

I was about nine miles out from my front door. I felt good like I could keep going. But I also knew nine miles back would be brutal with heavy legs, so I turned around and started my way back home.

Looking out at the lake I fell in love with the colours. The sun was rising above the horizon and the colours on the water were undeniable gorgeous. If I was an artist, I feel like I would spend my life trying to capture those colours on a canvas. There were so many different shades of blue in just one glance and the gold of the sun was creating the most delightful effect in its path.

On my way back to the city I noticed that Lakeshore was getting busier, more people waking up to enjoy the day. If it wasn't for all the wind and rain predicted for later today, it would be the perfect day to hang a hammock between two trees on the path and just enjoy the sun and the warmth.

It felt good running my old route again. The same sights I'd run past daily for weeks had changed with the seasons, but it was still the same path. The familiarity of it all was a comfort.

It was like seeing an old friend or going home for the holidays. It was like when you heard a song you haven't heard in a while and all the feelings from the time you first heard it come flooding back.

From the smell of the lake to the sound of the water lapping against the barrier wall, the breeze that seemed to come from all sides… it was like home.

I had predicted correctly about my legs when I was back in Evanston. They had started to ache.

It was a good thing I'd not signed up for the Marathon. My legs hurt worse just thinking about going for another run. Tomorrow would be an interesting run. I didn't think about it. Not yet.

When I ran back into Lakeview I could feel my feet getting heavier and heavier. I wanted to stop and walk the last mile, maybe even crawl, but I kept convincing myself I was so close and that I had to make it the whole way. Each small scenario I concocted kept me going until I was at my front steps.

It was weird. I could open my front gate, climb the steps and go inside without flinching, without flashing back to that night. I could open my gate, climb my front steps and open my front door without feeling scared or hating myself for having let it happen.

I knew when I locked the door behind me that it was nonsensical. I didn't know how to move past what I didn't understand. Because it wasn't that I felt unsafe. It wasn't that I was all that worried that it would happen again.

I just knew that I double checked the locks every night, started taking self-defence and kickboxing classes, and still felt weird about the fact that it was a secret.

I didn't understand it.

What I did understand was that my legs felt like jello as I climbed the stairs up to the second floor. I only had a little bit before I had to leave for Ana and Harry’s but I took my time stretching and cooling down from my run. I even got a chill from the sweat that was beginning to dry on me, before taking an extremely hot shower and resetting myself.

Niall was hiding behind a throw pillow.

I had gotten up to make tea and when I looked out over the dark room ahead of me--Louis and Cleo claimed it needed to be dark to set the mood--I found him hugging a pillow desperately to his chest, his face half hidden by it.

You could make out his eyes and the fluff of his hair in the glow of the screen, but that was about it.

Harry wasn't any better. The poor guy was leaning into Ana and using a blanket to cover half of his face, knees pulled tightly to his chest as if being compact would keep the demogorgons away.

I smirked at that.

We were on episode six of season one and had been in this room together for six hours now. We didn't even break for lunch, just ordered pizza and kept on keeping on. There were still a few pieces in a box that was sat on the floor between Liam and the space I’d been occupying.

We planned on ordering takeaway for dinner tonight as well. It was only just four, so we had the whole night to keep our binge up well into season two. Louis was going to leave around ten to make sure he was in good condition for work tomorrow, but we had quite a bit of time before then to properly scare Niall and Harry.

Days like these made me so grateful for the friends I had.

We could go out to the beach and play volleyball and ride bikes down Lakeshore, or we could spend all day shopping on the Golden Mile, or we could see plays and go to concerts.

Or, we could hole up in one of our apartments and binge watch a series all day.

I was lucky for knowing these people.

However, while I was in a group with all of them I could feel the weight of my secret pushing down on me like gravity. I'd never kept anything from Cleo and keeping something this big from her was making me feel itchy.

I was the first person Cleo came out to. She trusted me to set the standard for everyone else she told. I remember the moment like it was yesterday. I'd never felt so privileged to be told something so important.

Cleo had been sitting at our table when I walked into the apartment after an evening class. She looked incredibly calm as she asked me to just listen as I was in the middle of making dinner.

I was halfway through making pasta when she said it. I'd shut off the burner and walked over and sat down across from her at the table.

She was never anything but calm the whole time she was talking. And I just kept thinking about how much I admired her. She was strong and she was so sure of herself. She also trusted me.

That was the biggest moment for us, I think, as friends. We'd been so close so quickly, immediately trusting each other, and that moment for us just proved why we were so good together. We just understood each other.

I had finished making my pasta and the two of us sat at the table talking half the night away. When it was time for our morning classes the next day neither of us complained, either. We got up and made breakfast together before walking to campus and nothing was said specifically but we both seemed to just accept the shift that happened.

After all, it was a good shift.

My secret felt silly in comparison to the one she had trusted me with. Despite that knowledge, I still couldn't bring myself to tell her.

My secret was something I was ashamed had happened to me. Her secret was something she was proud of. Plus, Cleo has always been stronger than me. It was something I'd known since I met her freshman year in our writing seminar.

For almost eight years, I tried to be strong like her. I wanted to be as brave as my best friend, and I wanted to keep trying. I couldn't find it in me to tell her though.

I knew she'd be upset with me about that.

It wasn't just Cleo, either. I knew everyone would be upset I had kept something from them, especially something this big. Louis would be furious if he ever found out. He'd not be furious at me, but at the fact that he didn't realise it, that he wasn't there for me.

Harry, the most empathetic human I had ever had the pleasure of meeting, would be heartbroken I hadn't said anything. Ana would be horrified and Liam would feel frustrated that he couldn't actually do anything to help.

Which is why none of them would ever find out. Because on top of the emotional responses from each of them, I'd have to deal with constant checkups and texts and incessant reminders to let each one of them know that I was fine at all moments of the day.

I couldn't tell them. I'd rather have myself driven sick from the burden of my secret than tell them and have to deal with anything and everything that would come as a result of my truth.

It was an odd mixture of emotions. I wanted to tell them, but there was also literally no way I would ever in my life tell them because I also didn't want to tell them. Mostly I didn’t want to tell them, despite the thought of it eating me away inside.

When it came to my parents I just genuinely didn't want to tell them. At all. They were another story entirely. One that started and began with my silence on the subject, no questions asked.

While I poured the hot water from the kettle into my mug I watched as Niall, Harry, Ana, and Liam jumped up as a scare happened on screen. Cleo and Louis were glued to the screen, even with having already seen the episodes; they were too focused to even tease the others for their response.

I set a timer on my phone for three minutes and watched both my friends and the show until my tea had steeped and I made my way back over to my spot on the floor. I settled in against the base of the couch with my blanket covering me and my tea warming my hands.

Niall leaned forward from his spot on the couch and whispered to me. “This is fucking horrifying.”

I let out one quiet laugh but bit my lips to keep from laughing more. He flicked my ear but didn't say anything further. I did hear him gasp a few moments later at a scare on the show and I smiled to myself as I sipped my tea and kept on watching.

It was hours later when the Chinese food arrived that the seven of us stood up for the first time in ages.

“Harry, don't fuss,” I waved him away from the kitchen. He was trying to clean up a little mess I made when I'd spilt some rice from a carton.

Louis had startled me when he walked away. He’d leaned into my ear and whispered for me to check out Liam's neck when he passed by. I hadn't been expecting Louis to be that close and I'd jumped, spilt the rice I was trying to serve myself and had also spilt my water when I went to grab a towel.

Louis swore that Liam had a hickey on his neck. I rolled my eyes. With Liam’s beard, it would be almost impossible to see, but Liam was also incredibly forthcoming about relationships--less so than Cleo, but more than the average person--in the past. I figured we would know if something was going on.

I shooed Louis away with an eye roll and when I turned to start cleaning my mess I spotted Harry already starting to scoop all the rice from the floor.

“It's not much,” he told me as he continued to clean.

“Yes, it's not much,” I nodded in agreement. “Which means I can do it. I made the mess, I clean it,” I waved the dish towel in his face again and he reluctantly stood up, threw away what he'd managed to pick up, and went over to eat his food and wait, sitting in his fear for the next episode to begin.

It only took me a minute to clean up the floor and counter. In that time Liam walked past me and I didn't spot anything out of the ordinary. I looked up to Louis and shook my head at him. He gave me a questioning look and I shrugged helplessly. He'd been wrong.

While I was washing my hands, Niall came back from the bathroom and started in on choosing and piling food onto his plate.

“What were you talking about last night? A song?” Niall had been forced to give up his spot on the sofa when Liam jumped into the spot and started munching on his lo mein.

Niall, because he'd gone to the bathroom when the food arrived and therefore was the last to get food, lost his claim to the last spot on the sofa.

Liam was beaming as he sat on the cushions and stretched his legs out in front of him, Cleo sitting opposite him as they talked about something and ate. They looked so relaxed, so happy that I tried to force myself to feel as relaxed as them, to force myself to not think about the massive secret I was hiding from them.

We had just finished season one of the show and were about to start season two. Harry and Niall had a few more terror-filled moments, I'd heard both of them gasping a few times behind me.

I smiled at Niall’s question.

“Oh yeah,” I nodded. “So, my first day living here, I was on the train and when the voiceover announced that Fullerton was the next stop a light flicked on in my head. I'm a pop punk fan and I remembered a song called Somewhere on Fullerton.”

Niall gave me a curious look.

“So immediately I pulled the song up and listened. Anyway, from either side of the Fullerton stop, each time it was announced as the next stop, I'd click play on the song. I heard it twice a day for probably a month before I decided to look up if the band was from Chicago.”

“And are they?” He asks as he piles fried rice high on his plate.

“They are,” I nodded. “I still listen to it when on the train alone,” I tell him. “Three years on from my initial listen.”

“I'm assuming it's a good song then?” He asked.

“I love it.”

He laughed.

“Maybe we can listen on the way back tonight,” he proposed.

“I think we could pull off listening now,” I looked over at him and then over at our friends. “It's under three minutes.”

He looked tempted, but he shook his head. “It wouldn't be authentic then.”

“Oh, you're right,” I nodded. “Good point.”

He smiled and lowered his voice to make sure no one could hear him. “Plus it gives me something good to look forward to after getting my pants scared off time after time today.”

I bit my lips again to keep from laughing but it was no use: within moments I was giggling.

“C’mon, it's a genuinely scary show! I'm not alone in that opinion. And Harry is scared too,” he complained.

“I mean, it's a little scary but…” I trailed off with a shrug.

“But nothing.”

“It's not that bad,” I appealed.

He levelled a hard, disbelieving gaze at me.

“Are you enjoying it, at least? Do you like the show even if you're going to be too scared to fall asleep tonight?”

“I resent that implication-”

“Because it's probably true?”

He glared at me.

“But,” he said, even with his glare still locked onto me, “I am really enjoying the show. I think it's brilliant.”

“I'm glad you like it,” I told him as he finished putting a pile of General Tso’s onto his plate.

Together we picked up our plates and made our way to our spots on the floor. We sat side by side with our plates on the coffee table we’d moved back over for the time being and Cleo clicked play on the episode.

Niall leaned over and whispered to me. “Better or worse in terms of scary?”

“Than season one?”

He nodded.

“It's pretty much the same,” I admitted him. “In terms of scary and in terms of suspense.”

“Shit,” he cursed under his breath. “I think you were right about me not sleeping tonight.”

I laughed out loud at that and he gave me an indignant look.

Looking over at Niall, I couldn't help but think about how lonely he must've been for two years. To leave all of his friends and the life he’d spent six years building here and go home to two years of isolation… it must've been hard.

I was glad he was here, with us. He was back with his friend Louis and was rebuilding a friend group with us, and we seemed to have adopted him into their ranks seamlessly. He fit well. Plus, he had a job that wasn't an internship for the first time since he graduated.

I wondered if Louis knew why he'd done it, why he'd left. They lived together. He must know. I wondered if Louis knew how lonely Niall had been. I wondered if Niall kept that part to himself.

I tried not to over analyse it all as I snuck another glance at the Irish boy beside me. He was probably a suffer in silence type.

I took a deep breath and looked back at the television, getting lost in the show.

Louis was texting me.

Incessantly.

And so was Cleo. And Liam. And Ana. And Harry.

The five of them had snuck back into our old group chat, the one without Niall. What had begun as a conversation about how we liked Niall and were glad he’d become part of our group, had devolved into Louis making a comment about how close Niall and I seemed this evening and then everyone joining in with their thoughts and opinions.

Because of course they did. They were all just wonderful like that. The funny thing was, even with their teasing they were such good people. I loved them and I loved that they could pick up my mood even with the teasing.

I know some people who would give anything to have a friend group like mine. In moments like this, when I'm enduring their ridiculousness I have to remind myself how much I really do appreciate them, appreciate having them in the first place.

The conversation had shifted from Niall to me not long after Niall and I got on the train together when we'd left Harry and Ana’s place. The events felt like a very similar repeat of the night before.

The notifications were so incessant that I had to turn them off while I played the song for Niall just before his stop.

He enjoyed it. The song. He thought it was pretty amazing how it lasted almost perfectly from the moment Fullerton was announced as the next stop to the arrival at Fullerton. He was even more amazed when I told him the timing worked both ways.

Louis was being ridiculous when he said Niall and I were close.

Once we’d all finished eating, Niall and I pushed the coffee table right out of the way again and settled back against the couch to watch the next few episodes. I will admit at one point when my butt started to go numb I leaned over a bit and rested my head on Niall’s shoulder, but there were pillows between our bodies and separate blankets. It was as platonic as platonic could get.

I’d rested my head on Liam, Harry, and Louis’ shoulders many times before. Something that the three of them were conveniently ignoring despite my reminding them again and again in the past ten minutes.

I was in my kitchen in my jammies--an old Michigan shirt and fluffy pants--making tea for myself as I weathered the bombardment of texts from my spot on the counter.

I had already braided my hair into two Dutch braids and taken out my contacts, my big round glasses perched high on my nose. I was ready for bed, tired enough to fall asleep the moment I'd walked into the house, but I pulled myself together just long enough to make myself some tea that would help calm me enough to hopefully fall asleep quickly.

Yes, I found Niall attractive and yes he was nice, and of course, I noticed how good he smelled when my head was on his shoulder. I had to force myself to stop thinking about it then and to stop thinking about it now.

But just because I found him physically attractive and he was nice didn't mean anything. I mean, if it did I'd also have tried something with Louis, Liam, and Harry. We were just friends and the same went for Niall. He was just trying to assimilate himself into our friend group and I was trying to help. There was nothing to it other than that.

That didn't stop the text from Ana about how cute we were though, or from Liam about how he swore Niall blushed when I was leaning on him. That was even accompanied by a too dark picture that was impossible to even make my face out from let alone distinguish anything else.

It didn't stop the innuendos from Cleo or the texts from Louis where he gloated about being a matchmaker.

Harry was sending photo after photo of movie posters where the main characters transitioned from friends to more than friends. The rom-com expert of the group was great when you wanted to watch a movie, not so great when it came to defending yourself against his pretty fallible logic when he was disregarding logic in the first place.

“Fork sake,” I breathed out seeing 12 notifications on my phone in a minute’s time. I picked up my tea and sipped it slowly before reaching for my phone and reading through the never-ending deluge of messages.

I almost choked seeing some of the things Cleo was insinuating but held myself together enough to text back that I was going to bed and would be blocking all of their numbers.

This, of course, caused them to panic and they apologized. Well, except for Cleo, but I hadn't expected her to anyway.

Louis sent me a separate text, just between me and him, after he stopped teasing me. I hopped off the counter and double checked that all of my doors were locked before I crawled into bed and looked at his message.

Louis: Is it because he's my best friend? You don't want to make it weird?

Ruby: 1. I hardly know him, and therefore have no inkling of pining as you all seem to believe, so it has nothing to do with you or him or anyone 2. You guys are the ones making it weird with all the innuendos and romcom references

Louis: In like three weeks you're going to send me a text, you don't know it yet, but that text is going to be about how much you like Niall and I'm going to show you this text as a reminder of how wrong you were

Ruby: You’re delusional, Tommo.

Louis: And you're in denial. But I've also got bread to bake early tomorrow. Love you, Ruby! Sleep sweet.