Holden Caulfield (ex_evanbrech520) wrote in anathemamain, @ 2008-07-20 20:29:00 |
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Current mood: | uncomfortable |
reality bites.
Who: Evan Brecht & Cyrille Glass.
What: A rendezvous of sorts, but not a happy one.
When: Sunday night, about forty-five minutes after this.
Where: SA101, Evan's dorm.
Why: After their AIM conversation, Cyrille is concerned. And, inevitably, Evan has to tell her about Cian and Lila.
Rating: PG-13, at the least.
Warnings: Buckets of angst.
His heart could have stopped right then, as he stared at the computer screen, reading those words over and over. But there's no reason for that. No. It couldn't be. It was impossible. For several minutes after the message had been sent, Evan had tried to convince himself that he was asleep. He had hoped that he was in the middle of a nightmare — after all, nightmares had become quite usual for him since the accident — and, instead of returning to the back seat of Cian's car, Cyrille was claiming ignorance of the reality that persisted to make him feel sick. But, alas, he was conscious. Thus, he had tried to convince himself that it was his medication; he had to take a prescription for the physical pain — something to keep him from feeling like his arm was going to fall off — as well as, now, a prescription for the emotional pain, which had been insisted upon by his psychiatrist. But, it would have worn off by now. There was no explanation, and his fears were confirmed: this was real. In the world of Cyrille Glass, there was no reason for his family to show up, wearing black and pretending to weep. She didn't know.
Evan stood up from the computer chair, paying no mind to his wounded ankle, and deciding to put half of his weight on it, despite what the doctors had told him. He barely acknowledged the pain that was beginning to surge throughout his body, unable to focus on anything other than the feeling of dread within him. How could she not have known? He thought everyone knew. Cameron knew, and because of that, Echo must have known, right? And what about Taliese? Expressing sympathy for him? And Lily, too? Even Teagan. Of course, he had made sure that Natalie did not find out, but — was it possible that all of them, every single one of them, had empathized with him only because of his bruises? His cuts? Oh, no. It couldn't be. It was impossible. They had to know. And because Lily had to know, how had it never come up between her and Cyrille? They were roommates. And yet, those words: But there's no reason for that.
He crossed the room, sinking to the floor in front of the closet door, and hugging his knees with his left arm. Mr. Snuggles — Natalie Kensington's stuffed elephant — caught his eye nearby, and he found himself staring at the toy, envying its happy demeanor. Though it had only been eight days — eight long, painful days since his world had come crumbling down — Evan could not remember what it felt like to be so content. His brother was dead. Lila was dead. And his family was arriving on Tuesday evening, remaining in town until after the funeral, in order to pay their alleged condolences. Cian and Lila. Much to his dismay, they were the reason. And Cyrille would not remain in ignorance much longer.