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Noah just stood there, like the idiot he was.
What the fuck just happened.
He shifted his gaze, nonchalantly holding his head away from the other girls, as they stormed out past him.
Following her.
Leaving him, standing there, alone and speechless, in middle of the school garage. He side eyed the group of onlookers, blowing smoke in the opposite direction, as the dimly lit, cement space still echoed her words. He walked his usual path leading to his car.
How did she know all of that? There’s no way she could have known— his mind paused, as the words rang through his head again...
”Did your mother never compliment your drawings?”
Well, he knew she didn’t really know what that meant, but still, it was fucking spot on. And more than a little unnerving, he noted— definitely the most interesting interaction he’d had with anyone in a long time.
He’d first flashed back to when his six-year-old self, would proudly— or more rather, pathetically, set up odd, little art shows for his mother to attend. He would hang up all of his (and his sister’s) colorful drawings, as “for sale” pictures all over the house. To cheer her up, he would say, because she was just so sleepy all the time.
Sleepy. The idea made him huff now. Because nearly each and every time, their garbage of a mother was too loaded to even stand up, let alone acknowledge her children for shared playtime. Which in that case, Noah would then make-believe (not just for his sister’s sake, but his own) that their mother liked certain ones, and then hung his sister’s favorites on the fridge himself.
The winners and runner ups.
”Were you never validated as a child?” Is that it?” Her mocking tone washed back over his thoughts. “Is that it?”
Shit. That girl really had no idea what she was even saying. Who was she even? —And honestly, what she said though, was so weirdly specific... it kinda freaked him out? Like he wasn’t even able to process it, as it was happening. It was too surprising. But maybe... in a good way... he needed that.
He felt himself relax. Kinda.
It also made him think about those times he would come home from school and his father had already taken down their art from the fridge. Said it would be more practical to hang them in his office at work, where there would be more room. Noah felt proud to hear that, in a way.
But Noah knew today that his father actually hated his art. Well, not hated, he just saw no logical future in its practice. And he knew Noah had been obsessed from an early age.
Of course though, it made sense that they could have an expensive painting from NYC, in the house, and a statue bust from Paris in the work study— but no— his son was above all that when it came to his legacy career. Because to him, there was no point or useful value. It wasn’t practical. And he wanted him to learn that young.
So when Noah found out his father was just throwing them out (he found some of his best ones crumpled in the garage trash can)— he lost his sense of trust in him completely. And he didn’t tell anyone, but he cried after that. Like seriously cried. Completely by himself. And he stayed home from school that day, as the hyperventilated lack of control feigned a feeling of sickness, enough to convince the nanny. He literally made himself sick. But as pointlessly sad and embarrassing that memory was to him now— at six years old, that completely blindsided, shock of rejection was what truly killed him. Like his father had suddenly kicked him in the gut with the reality that had never settled in before. That he had been denying.
And it took quite a few tries, but it wasn’t long after that before he finally learned his lesson. When he finally gave up hope on the idea that maybe if he tried his best, his parents, would one day, actually care. And when that day finally came, when he decided to finally give up hope and stop his art shows, and selfishly reserve his art for only himself— it didn’t even matter anymore. Because then, at the age of ten, he stopped drawing altogether.
When his sister was killed.
Well, it’s not like that girl knew that either. Now he was just being a shit and feeling sorry for himself. She was defending her friend. That he just upset. That he rejected. Wow.
And despite knowing fully that her cute, little speech was aimed to destroy him, he realized that he’d literally felt like… high during it? What was that even? The way she talked to him— like it set a match to every nerve cell in his body that had been frozen dead for years, suddenly, like a hot, live wire. Shaking him awake. To finally listen again.
She was just like, so protective, and demeaning... and raw. There was no bullshit. No pity for him—which he hated. Nobody ever talked to him like that. He heard her loud and clear. She got his attention. It made him... feel real.
It made him feel.
He felt. Defensive. And fully attended.
And if it weren’t for the reason that he felt a little, unjustifiably offended— he would have thought that it was completely fucking hot.
He smirked again at the thought, blowing smoke in a side-exhale, as he continued through the building.
Honestly, he must be some kind of a masochist or something, because why the hell did he literally just enjoy getting completely roasted by a stranger. More than enjoyed it actually... It made his whole damn day.
Though, he was more intrigued probably because people didn’t surprise him anymore... and that, surprised him. Because he actually felt something, something real, and different for once. And although overall he thought he was mostly annoyed, it was still an emotion. A nice emotion.
So who was she?
He needed to find out. Or at least talk to Gijs first.
He met up with Gijs like usual, who was already waiting for him in the half-underground lot, so he could drive him home. Noah saw him smile in the distance, waving his phone.
”Hey, man?” Gijs grinned confusedly, waving his phone again. “Tessa just texted me that some girls just like... ganged up on you?” He chuckled in disbelief, as Noah approached him. “Are you okay?”
“What?” Noah squinted back at him. “I’m fine...”
“What happened?” He smiled again, but his expression was actually now more concerned. “She said some girl like ran away from you crying.”
Noah rolled his eyes, “Jesus.” He opened his car door and threw his backpack into the back seat.
“What?”
He closed his eyes, “Can’t anyone mind their own business...” He ducked into the driver’s side with a lazy sigh and climbed in.
”Bro, what happened? Who?”
“It’s nothing,” he looked at him shortly, arching a brow, but the way that Gijs was staring at him— for some reason, a tiny smirk slipped out. So he smoothly turned back around to buckle his seatbelt. “She’s no one.”
“Uhm...” Gijs quickly hopped in after him, sliding into the passenger seat. “What?” He slammed the door closed, waiting.
Noah only shook his head, feeling for the keys in his pocket.
Gijs gawked at him. “Dude— What happened?”
Noah didn’t know why he loved building things up with Gijs so much. Probably because his best friend was so easily amused.
Noah smirked at the ceiling, then rolled his eyes. “Okay.” He pushed in his key, pausing to reassure him, “Nobody cornered— or ganged up on me. It was just that annoying chick from your house— she just wouldn’t leave me alone.”
“The blonde one?”
”Yeah.” He looked Gijs in the eyes, “So I used your... technique on her, and right after I—“
”You used my cut off technique?!” Gijs’ eyes lit up proudly, “It worked right?”
Noah continued to glare at him. “No, Gijs. It didn’t fucking work. Because right afterwards, I had to deal with her friend who fucking ripped me a new one.” He suddenly noticed he felt lighter— like weirder... than usual. Funnier? He was probably over tired. Although, even when he was sleep deprived, the weight of his pessimism was always there. Except for right now...
”Yikes, man... You should’ve waited ‘til her friends weren’t around?” He shook his head with feigned disappointment, but then chuckled loudly when Noah scoffed and started the engine. “—Kidding.” He squinted a small look at him, twitching a grin, “What did they say to you?”
Noah just shook his head, his gaze out the window as the image of her face flashed in his mind again. “No it wasn’t all of them, just the one.”
”Isa?”
”No. It was her friend. I don’t know her name. The rest just stood there and the annoying one ran away crying. Engel.” He squinted at him, “Which felt like shit by the way.”
Wait a minute...
“You get used to it the more times you do it,” Gijs reasoned.
”I’m never doing that again.” Noah said as he pulled out the car in reverse, “Ghosting is so much better. And easier.”
”Nah, man. That keeps them going. Keeps them wondering.” He sniffed, “its easier to just cut it off.”
Shit. He already felt awful.
Wait.
He felt the guilt?
Since when?
”So what did she say to you, though? Who was she?” He scanned him, leaning over, “I feel like you’re not really as annoyed, as you’re saying?”
Noah knew he would steer him this way. “No, I am. And I don’t think I’ve seen her before. I think she’s new.”
...Then he told him exactly what happened. Word by word, phrase by phrase, and Gijs just sat there listening, with this increasingly stupid grin on his face.
Noah wanted to tell him to stop looking at him like that.
Because he wasn’t paying close attention and didn’t catch on the way Noah hoped he would have. He didn’t connect the dots. To the memories that the girl blatantly called him out on.
What he was doing now though— was laughing at him.
“Shit...” Gijs chuckled, trailing off. “Man, you always have the worst luck...”
Noah scoffed, turning at the traffic light.
Seriously...
Gijs’ laughter faded, “I mean... just like, it always seems like bad luck like that follows you— like that would only happen to you.” Gijs opened up his window to light a smoke, “Was she hot at least? I really can’t picture who you’re talking about.”
Noah was still cringing at the “bad luck” comment— as if Gijs even understood half of what he would classify as bad—
He suddenly didn’t feel like going down that road. There was no reason to.
He felt bad again.
Gijs didn’t know any better...
“Yeah, she was fucking hot.”
”I knew it,” Gijs squirmed. “I can always tell. Your eyes give it away.”
”My eyes?” Noah actually chuckled. Then suddenly he remembered. He didn’t like her really. “But I’m not interested. I just feel like I deserved that.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself?” Gijs coughed. “I think that I like her though? Especially that she made fun of your hair.”
”I don’t care, go for it. And shut up.”
”I’m just kidding, bro, relax. But it is true. You don’t shower.”
Noah gawked at him. Then turned to glare back at the road. “I do too.”
“So when are you two going out?” Gijs hummed knowingly, as they pulled onto their street.
Noah sighed loudly.
Of course, Gijs had already assumed that she was on his to do list. He knew it actually. He knew him too well, especially when Noah’s words didn’t match his expression. But he knew it most of the time. Not in this case. He parked the car for Gijs to get out.
”Goodbye, Gijs.” He smiled sarcastically, unlocking the door.
Yeah, this time he was wrong. Because he truly hadn’t thought of her like that at all... Well, besides noticing that she was pretty. But he didn’t like her though.
She probably came with more baggage than the other one. And more importantly, he didn’t even know her last name.
Or her first...
When he got home, Noah unpacked his school bag and walked over to turn on his kitchen oven.
He always cooked dinner for himself, while he started his homework. It was his routine. And by “cooked dinner”, he really just meant that he put on a pizza. His normal routine, in silent solitude.
But he felt different after he ate today.
After he finished his homework, Noah actually felt motivated to go (gasp) ***shower*** and to even go find and open his new, shower speaker. He remembered he wanted to finally listen to that Walking Dead podcast Micha was telling him about. And well, the speaker wasn’t exactly new new, because it was from about a year ago, (after his first waterproof radio broke)— but after all this time, he still hadn’t bothered to open it. Why... He had no clue. He used to love listening to music in the shower.
He put on Pretty Lights pandora, as he dried off and shaved, and then put on a fresh pair of boxers and a T-shirt. Then finally, he got into bed.
Finally, he could relax.
Well, his body could...
Maybe not so much his mind. He was wide awake. But not in the usual anxious way. Like an energetic way... which was suspiciously new.
He binged watched the first three episodes of The Haunting of Hill House— a cool, new Netflix show, that some idiot in maths today, called “girly”.
Noah didn’t get that. Calling something “girly” like it were wrong.
He painted his nails. He watched chick flicks alone. He wore jewelry. He still had a dick.
When the third episode ended, he watched as the count down to the next episode began, and then switched to a black screen that asked him, “Are you still watching?”
He stared at his reflection for a moment before closing the laptop. He wished he could ignore the need to talk to someone about a new show or a new movie— about the metaphors, and the themes and characters. Compare it to the books, etc.
But he couldn’t ignore it. And he couldn’t fulfill it, obviously. Because he was always alone. And not just in the physical sense.
He laid there in the dark for a few minutes. Then slowly but surely, the familiar, soul-emptying feeling began to creep up his spine again, haunting him into submission. The pessimism. He knew his motivational high was too good to last.
But that was his fault. That it faded. He just couldn’t help but notice how small he felt in the dark— laying small in his huge bed, cornered small in his gigantic bedroom, stacked small, a room 1/98th the size of his enormous house. He was completely alone.
And unless Gijs or Micha were over to chill... or he had a girl over to hookup— he was always alone. Alone, until his psychotic step-brother came home from uni, and that was honestly worse. Though Gijs and Micha thought it was awesome to have the place to himself... it really, it was mostly just fucking lonely.
Though, ironically outside of his home, all he ever wanted was to be alone. For everyone to just leave him alone. The two contradicting feelings never made sense. Like they cancelled each other out and then left him feeling nothing.
He was used to it though, the loneliness, because he was alone in his brain too. Nobody understood him. They couldn’t.
Noah did understand everyone else though. Yeah, he didn’t talk much, but he did observe everything. So for his own sanity and “cabin fever” protection (clearly he read The Shining way too many times), he resorted to books, movies, and series to keep himself company. He used escapism by intellectual fantasy or dark literature, to keep his brain alive. But as per usual, he craved more than just that.
And it’s not that Gijs wasn’t great to him, because he was. He actually, was the most supportive best friend Noah could have ever asked for, since they were four years old. Always checking in on him if he needed anything. And even more so, did Gijs’ mother and father. Funny, how the neighbors had been more caring than the actual parents.
And although he was completely grateful for Gijs and his family, at the same time, Gijs didn’t really get him.
To say the least, Gijs’ sense of humor was completely the opposite of Noah’s.
It was more... simple.
Yeah, Gijs laughed at things like... failing tests, kids dropping their lunch trays, or kids falling off their bikes. Or farting in class. And honestly, his shallowness was what bothered Noah the most about him. But that was it.
Gijs would never really get him the way Noah wanted him to and that was okay. He would still tell him to watch The Haunting of Hill House. For the jump scares. They could always relate to each other by compromise.
But that took so much more effort on Noah’s part. It was boring and one sided sometimes, and he wanted more than that. He had Micha too, but Micha and him never got on to serious subjects. Micha was more of a distraction friend, who was conveniently, just as talented as he was at pretending like everything was fine.
Noah needed more depth... but he was too stubborn to find himself a new friend. Not like a replacement— just someone extra. He was loyal to the people who were loyal to him.
But that insatiable desire to be understood was always lurking in the back of his mind. He was just so tired to change anything.
That’s what it was.
He was tired. All the time. He was so tired. And not just physically, but with his life. Days were just so long and always the same. Every day was the same. Every morning he woke up wishing he could never leave his bed. And just draw all day.
Sometimes at night, he even thought about how nice it would be to just go to sleep, and never wake up— which only then, would he instantly get angry with himself for ever wishing such a thing. His life mattered. Well, not to him specifically, but it mattered what he could do for others.
Just because no adult told him he was important, didn’t mean he still couldn’t do something important one day. At least, that’s what his stepbrother would always tell him and his sister... before he turned psycho. Before he got them killed. His twin. Her body and Noah’s soul. Dead.
A purpose in life, didn’t have to coincide with happiness, did it? That was his perspective, at least.
It was just pointless for him to try and actually be genuinely happy. He seriously couldn’t even imagine it, that’s how unrealistic it seemed. And it wasn’t like he was depressed or anything. Like he didn’t feel sad ever, really. Just numb. Always numb, like he was nothing, and it didn’t matter, that he was nothing. Cause his happiness didn’t matter. And he could have sex to feel things and drink alcohol to feel things. But the sensations went away almost immediately. And then all he was left with was the shame. Which ironically was better than the nothingness.
It was also because he knew that he wouldn’t have a happy future. Everyday he felt the creeping, claustrophobic anxiety of already knowing his pre-destined business career that was already set in stone for him by his cold, CEO father. It was the hopeless feeling he got whenever he remembered he would never get to do what he enjoyed because it wasn’t “practical.”
Noah didn’t care about money. He could live in a box for christ’s sake, and honestly, if he liked what he was doing and was passionate about it, he wouldn’t even care about losing material things. As long as he had his art and a person to share it with. But his father knew that he lived in a bubble of contradicting logic and fantasy. So he planned everything for him. And Noah hated that.
So... his family didn’t listen to him (not that he really even had one anyway). Professors didn’t listen to him. Friends didn’t listen to him. Girls didn’t listen to him. They were all there, but they weren’t really listening.
Nobody understood.
Nobody ever would.
He suddenly woke up. Then checked his clock.
2:11. His phone buzzed once.
He leaned over to check the notification reminder. He rolled his eyes at the two missed texts. Mia from Spanish, texted him about three hours ago, “heyy what are you doing right now? I saw this and thought of you lol”
Another gif of family guy. They literally hooked up once and watched family guy, and now all she ever did was send him gifs of family guy. He didn’t even like family guy. Or her.
And the other girl, Reina, texted him earlier for help on the maths homework again, which he knew, she could fucking do by herself. That drove him crazy. She was actually really good at maths? He ignored the both of them. He hated when girls dumbed themselves down. Those two were smarter than that and it was such a turn off.
He stared at the ceiling for a while. Mapping out pictures of the shadows coming in from his window. Hoping his sleep paralysis wouldn't decide to come out tonight.
And then it was 3:00... and he still hadn’t fallen back asleep. Great.
But it wasn’t because of his sleep trouble. Or the horror show. Or the aching, dread of guilt that regularly replayed a montage of all of the terrible things he had ever done in his life, over and over.
Nope.
It was though, because of what he noticed in himself today. A change.
So it started, with him compulsively searching for that... feeling again. It was irrational. But he was fixated. On figuring out where that strange, feeling of fullness had come from, that feeling that had replaced the usual emptiness... Where that sudden motivation had derived from, that fully replaced the usual tiredness. He back tracked the day.
And it ended, with him replaying what that girl said to him earlier today, over and over again.
“You were never valid.”
“Get over it.”
“You’re nasty.”
She was right.
That girl.
Her taunting face of intimidating beauty. A scarred image in his brain.
But why did he like it? Or like her?
No, he didn’t like her.
She seemed like one of those judgy, know-it-alls. Except that she was too good for him. Kinda mean. But charming.
Okay. Maybe he did like her a little bit, actually.
But who was she though... Seriously. The more time he had now to process it, the more he realized how unbelievably attractive she was. Like ethereally pretty. And not just on the outside, but it was her fucking vibe.
Now that he admitted it. That was what was hot. What sucked him in. Yeah, honestly he felt that instantly.
And as he felt more sleepy, his normal, logical way of thinking faded, allowing his true feelings to surface. His jaded pride always clouded his judgement when he was aware enough to be in control. And he was no longer in control.
As he started to drift off, he continued to think about her. Rewinding, so she could insult him all over again. Each time, pretending he said something witty back. To have impressed her, in some sort of way at least.
He had to have had some kind of like, twisted kink or something, cause yeah... he felt her vibe, all right. And he was suddenly stuck on it. And he remembered, and reimagined the intensity of it, again and again.
How when she stepped closer to him, his heart kinda skipped a beat. And not in the cliche way, like, oh my god, it’s love at first sight... but more like a child in trouble, like an oh shit, kind of a heart skip.
How his mouth went dry when her voice darkened, moving even closer. How his stomach fluttered when she licked her lips. How he had to glance away when he felt— like she’d overpowered him, leaning in to his space confidently, still trying to look him square in the eyes. He felt the energy of their auras embracing slowly. Mixing.
He imagined, that her aura was green, and brighter, and a little more pushy than his. But it was okay, because it fit with his aura... And wait, how hadn’t he realized this before?
He thought more about how her vibe fit inside his, and how he felt it all the way through. They were opposites, and yet still the same. He didn’t even know her, but it was so obvious, now.
Because that feeling that he felt afterwards— that lasted like the whole day? He wanted that again. The peaceful motivation. Like everything was suddenly going to be okay. He felt things he hadn’t felt in a long time. And he didn’t even recognize it. It was just... It was so good. —So hot. Yeah, it was fucking hot.
Her lips...
Were so hot. He saw her again. He reached for her.
He touched her face. He touched her smooth, toned face with hands... his fingertips... then his lips... Breathing in the sensory emotions lucidly. It didn’t make any sense, but he suddenly held her lower body firm against himself, then picked her up as she clung her arms around him, holding his face— pressing desperate kisses all across his cheeks and forehead. He moaned into her neck. Giving in to the dream. The sensations were too real.
Something was off. Because emotionally, it felt real too.
He pushed himself into her, feeling himself fit inside her vibe—
Oh.
Okay. That’s what was happening here? Where his disgusting, half-asleep, horny-boy brain was going?
Ok.
Shit, he was hard. No. He woke up.
No. Not now. He needed to sleep... No, he was almost asleep—
No, more importantly, he needed to get up in a few hours.
Shit.
No...
Though, on the contrary... he knew if he didn’t take care of himself right now, it would just keep him awake anyway.
Sure, right... He sighed hotly out of his nose against his pillow.
He knew that he needed to sleep... And that he should sleep... But instead, he reached under the warm blanket. And then, under the snap of his waistband, he slid his hand down, and held himself, slowly beginning to feel himself up. Feeling over the smooth skin and how hard he really was. Shit. He reached over on his nightstand for a dab of lotion. Then laid back down again. Absently massaging, routinely starting to dull the ache.
He thought of the last time he got a blowjob and tried to picture it. Reina. It wasn’t anything special, but he needed something specific.
But then suddenly, Reina’s face disappeared... and of course it did. It was his brain, he knew what was coming.
Reina’s face predictably began to morph into her face. That girl. No.
Her mouth— No stop... —moved as his eyes followed her, as she kissed down his body— stop it...— He watched her lips kiss, softly closing around him— he shouldn’t...— and his gaze followed, as her full mouth slid over him, her big eyes glaring up at him, while she slowly bobbed down, and then back up his— No. He shouldn’t picture her like this. Licking him— He sat up further to get it over with.
Fuck.
He shut his eyes. No.
Less mental, more physical. He turned over on his side completely, in easier position for his elbow to move. Fuck.
Literally, god, he was so fucking hard right now. But from... what, reimagining a girl insulting him? Someone putting him in his rightful place?
Shit. He did have a kink.
No. It was someone who made him feel. Someone who called him out on things he had been afraid to admit to himself for a long time. Things he was honestly, probably starting to repress. And she didn’t even know him.
Jesus. Shit.
He hated himself. FUCK.
He didn’t care.
Yes he did. Fuck.
...
Fuck.
After he finished, he finally started to drift back asleep... But while he drifted away, he compulsively thought of her again, but... not in the gross way he just blocked himself from using her for. (He was above that when he was conscious, and in control.) But in a hopeful way. Imagining that his life could be saved.
And then he swam away again into his dreams. Away from reality.
Only two more hours until his alarm. Great.
The next morning went by fast.
But, if there was anything consistent, it was Noah’s compulsive train of thought. His new pursuit for optimism. And it intrigued him as even more important, when he saw her laughing loudly in the hallway by the stairs with her friends.
He actually saw her briefly earlier that day, but she was just walking past him to a class. She was alone and she looked right through him. But right here...
He stopped against the wall to stare across the hallway. Leaning in to the cement whilst processing the emotion. He hadn’t seen her look like that, yet. Laughing. She honestly glowed. He felt a tiny smidge of that feeling again. His stomach fluttered quietly.
Noah needed to know her name.
Gijs didn’t know either, so that day at school, he asked around for Noah— subtly, obviously, because Gijs knew of his intentions... and he knew how to be chill about it to everyone else.
Gijs checked Instagram and said he couldn’t find her anywhere?
And Noah pretended that he hadn’t already searched.
She was new, Noah had told him...
It was after fifth period when Gijs finally found out her name, after lunch. He heard through a friend that she was someone who had sung at open mic night.
“Liv Reijners.”
Noah smirked again, because... she could sing?
And her name was Liv.
That was so... pretty. And symbolic. God... Liv, or live— Life.
But wait wow, so she could sing...
That was interesting to know. He didn’t know why, but it was...
He wished that he could remember open mic night more clearly. That night was a blur after he played. But maybe, she saw him and Micha play guitar and drums, so atleast she knew something about him.
He wanted to hook up with her, sure, but it would still be cool to have a friend that could sing. A friend to talk to about music besides Micha.
Then he thought, that was a super, fucking weird thing to think. How long had it been since he’d had an actual crush?
Okay. Did he want to be her friend, or to hook up with her?
Or... was it... both?
Maybe it was that he wanted to talk and kiss with her equally.
Was that what dating was? He surely wouldn’t know first hand. So he just went with his original notion, what he was good at, which was to hook up.
God, yeah, hook up— but... actually, now that he thought about it, (and honestly he would never admit it to Gijs), he really just wanted to talk to her again. He wanted to say something to her. That, more than anything.
He needed to talk to her again. He needed that feeling again. Jesus, what was he, a junkie?
He needed to take a step back.
Because after daydreaming— or rather analyzing, everything in class all day, he’d concluded that she was a match for his intellect. She was what he’d been missing. Her wit and charm, squared up to match his superior intuition. Yes, his gut feeling told him this was more than just a spark of attraction. And his intuition was never wrong. Never.
Liv.
Was he idealizing her? Probably, yes. But he needed to find out.
Realistically, he hadn’t even been thinking about the obstacle in which, she probably hated him for what he said to her friend. But still, she was an opportunity for a much needed friend for him. A friend to breathe the life back into him. Someone to challenge him to be better. A challenge for his mind. Something he had been unknowingly starved of and only just got a small taste.