Schizofriendly

He was suicidal when i met him, so I can't really blame myself for much. Running into him was an accident; it was merely by chance. But honest to God, it was the best chance I've ever gotten.

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7. ~7~

I pulled the black shirt over my head, the hem reaching just about mid-thigh.It was baggy against my small frame; I always hated that. Next, I tugged a pair of sweatpants over my hips. They were loose as well, and they were much too long for me. I rolled the pant-legs up to me knees before heading back down the stairs. When I reached the last step, the most amazing smells tingles my nose. I followed the scent into the kitchen, finding Evan standing over the stove.

"What is that?" I lean over his shoulder, my mouth watering.

"Beef. I'm making tacos. They--er-- I thought you might still be hungry."

"Starving."

He smiles at my eager reply, stirring the beef. I sit down at the bar, looking around at the cabinets and abandoned dining room.

"You look nice in my clothes," his voice breaks my trance.

"What?" I meet his gaze as he turns off the stove eye.

"I mean, I tried to find something comfortable for you, but uh, it looks good on you, too," he looks down and begins to mess with his curls. I swore I could hear him whisper, Why did you make me say that?

"Well, thanks," I give him a small smile.

"Yeah," he turned his back on me again.

How very odd he is...

 

~O~

 

Evan fixed both of our plates, and set mine in front of me. I was waiting for him to join me, but rather than take the seat next to mine, he sat down at the dining table behind me. I tried to take a bite of my taco, but I just couldn't.

"Um, Evan?" I swiveled around in my chair to face him, but he was already looking at me. For some unknown reason, it made me feel, well, bashful.

"Yeah?" he spoke through a mouthful of taco.

"Do you wanna...do you wanna sit with me?"

He was chewing slowly, not breaking eye contact. "Sure," he got up, his chair scraping the floor behind him as he made his way to the seat beside me.

"So--"

"No."

"No, what?"

"No I don't," he grit his teeth.

"You don't what?" my brows furrow.

"Will you just shut up?" he screams, banging his fists on the bar.

"I'm sorry!" I move to cover my face, and end up falling off my chair. Evan looks down at me, something changing in his eyes.

"Why are you crying?"

 

I didn't realize that I was.

 

"Are you alright?" he began to move towards me.

"No!" I scramble away into the hall, sitting just outside of the kitchen. I curl into a ball, my knees against my chest.

 

What happened? Why would--

 

"Why would you do that?" a voice echoes into the hall. I peek around the corner to see Evan leaning over the bar, hands in his curls. "I told you guys to leave me alone."

I look around the kitchen for who he may be talking to.

 

Nobody's there.

 

"I scared her off," his voice is low, "And it's all your fault!"

His hand slides across the counter top, knocking off our plates which shatter as they hit the ground. Next, he grabs a bar stool and throws it across the room, smashing it into the wall. He pushes the dining table into the wall and scatters the chairs. After he rips down the curtains, he sinks to his knees on the floor.

"She hates me..."

 

My heart breaks at his words.He may have frightened me, and I may not know what's going on, but I don't hate him because of it. How could I after he saved me?

I quietly crawl over to where he's at, staring at his back. Without much thought, I wrap my arms around his shoulders. I can feel him him tense up against me.

"I don't hate you," I bury my face in his neck, "I promise."

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