24. It cannot be a prophecy

Alec sat stiffly in a chair, his legs drawn up close to his chest, hovering above the ground. His gaze followed the rotating container with lunch in the microwave, his mind blank. He wasn't hungry. The numbers on the timer counted down. A sizzling, at times cracky noise escaped.

'Three, two, one.' - Alec counted in his mind as the digits on the timer changed. 

Beep. Alec tilted his head, leaving the meal in the microwave. His shoulders dropped as he let go of his legs. A long sigh of resignation escaped his lungs. 

"It's ridiculous," Alec muttered under his breath at the thought of the weird, almost prophetic dream. He lightly touched his forehead before standing up to retrieve the meal.

Alec dug into the leftovers without bothering to plate them. His fever was still ridiculously high. So high he could feel his eyeballs burning up, head spinning before he sat back down.

When he burned his tongue with the overheated food, a pair of tender hands covered his eyes from behind. Alec held his breath.

A sweet giggle reached his ears, "You don't look that sick."

He turned around to see Kristina standing behind him. She took a seat beside him. "I left early. Mom sounded so worried. But looking at you now." she rolled her eyes playfully.

She raised a brow at his unresponsiveness, "A cat got your tongue? Aren't you happy to see your sister?" - This was another difference between the fake and real Kristina. The true Kristina never addressed herself as part of this family.

Alec forced a brotherly tone, "I'm just a little sleepy," he smiled.

Before his gaze left Kristina, the image before his eyes overlapped with the one from his dream. He saw the bluish skin of the body that once thrived with life, tired eyes, dry lips - a being who lost interest in itself. 

His legs felt restless; he wanted to run away from this prophecy. 

No, it cannot be a prophecy!

His eyes glazed over, a blink, and the sight before him returned to normal.

If this marks the onset of madness, he won't hold onto sanity for much longer.

"But having a little servant won't hurt," Alec chuckled as he began to eat again.

Kristina stood up. "I believe I'm not the servant you want," an unreadable expression flashed across her face. "Why don't you call Tristan?"

Alec swallowed slowly. "I'll," he trailed off, "I'll text him when school ends."

"Whatever," Kristina shrugged before leaving.

Luka followed Tristan out of the school building. "So who is that Alec to you then?" Luka pried.

Tristan's brows knitted together as his peace fastened. "Come on, I won't tell anyone," Luka caught up to him effortlessly. "Even if you're dating," he added teasingly.

"He's just a friend," Tristan forced out.

Kristina no longer viewed Alec as her friend or sibling. These times were over before she got used to them. He was the first to play with the strings of her fate, and now it's her turn. She'll claim what's rightfully hers. She won't let him stand in her way. The life of her mother is in her hands.

Tristan's jade-green eyes glazed and almost teared up - another emotion Kristina stirred within him threatened to surface.

Luka glanced at him briefly. "And then what am I?" he pushed.

Tristan scoffed, "A friend, what else?" 

A wave of warmth washed over Tristan as this left his lips. A phone buzzed in his pocket - a message from Alec. 

"I have to go," Tristan muttered. Whenever Alec demanded his attention, the same cold prickle of annoyance clutched at his core.

A bumblebee landed on Tristan's head, tangling in his blond hair. Luka grabbed his hand. "Wait!" he blurted out.

"What now? Do you want a hug? Goodbye kiss?" Tristan spat with irony. His annoyance bubbled up. 

Kristina never liked clingy people and was sure it was the same for Tristan.

Luka wordlessly sunk his fingers into Tristan's hair, trying to free the poor bumblebee.

A satisfied smile lifted the corners of his mouth as the bumblebee caught onto his finger. "I just wanted to free the little one," he smiled, showing the insect pridefully.

The bumblebee spread its wings and loudly buzzed away. In the sunlight, Tristan's hair shimmered like the finest gold, far more captivating than any flower the spring had to offer, even in its slightly greasy state. 

"You could've said something," Tristan chuckled, the annoyance fading slightly.

"I know, but you were too distracted to listen," Luka whined. He looked at his hand holding Tristan's. "Why are you in such a hurry anyway?" Luka asked cautiously.