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.


9. ~9~

Evan turned the table upright as I began sweeping the floor.

"Sorry that I made such a mess," he apologizes.

"It's no problem," I sweep the broken glass into the dustpan, "I'm used to it."\

I winced at the fact that i had just revealed something about myself. Not only that, but the situation felt a lot more awkward.

"Shae, can I ask you something?"



Oh no. Here it comes. "Yes?"



"What's your favourite colour?"

"M-My favourite colour?"

"Yeah. The only thing I really know about you is your name."



He's right.


"Orange," I finally reply, "it's orange."

"Why is orange your favourite?"

"Honestly?" I let out a short laugh, earning a confused expression, "It's because nobody else likes it. It's like, the most unliked colour, so it makes me feel like I have to like it. I feel like if at least one person likes orange, well then, nobody else has too."

"You sure do care an awful lot..."

"Yeah," I blush, "I suppose you're right." Silence.

"I like that about you," Evan spoke up.



Is that the only thing you like about me?



"Thanks. So, what's your favourite colour?"

"I don't have one," he said without hesitation.

"What do you mean you, 'don't have one?'"

"I'm just different, I guess," he replies with a half-smile.

"Oh really?"


"How so?" I mimic his smile.

Then... his smiles fades, replaced with a distant gaze. And he stayed like that, lost in thought.

"Evan?" I could hear my own concern.



Since when had I become so concerned about him?



"I..." he trailed off, his eyes darting all over the room. "I..."

I cautiously stood, leaving the dustpan of shattered glass behind. "Evan, are you--"

"I've gotta go," he pushed past me, walking briskly out of the kitchen. I followed him.

"But where are you going?"

"Shae, I can't do this right now! I just... I'll be back later."

"But what did I--" the front door slammed loudly, indicating his leave to the entire house, "--do?"

After that, the house became unbearably silent. Remembering what happened the last time I'd encountered anothher resident, I decided it was best to go back up to Evan's room.




It must have been late, because when I opened my eyes, all was dark. It took me a moment, but I'd realized that the reason I awoke was due to an increase in weight on the other side of the bed.

"Evan?" I called out weakly. My back was to him, so I really had no idea whether it was him or not.

"Yes?" his voice was soft and scratchy, just like mine would be after a long night of crying myself to sleep.

"Are you--"

"I don't wanna talk about it."

I curled up in the duvet, trying to become as small as possible. I took the risk of glancing over my shoulder, only to find that his back was to me.



Is he mad at me?



I'm not sure why, but the thought of Evan being mad at me was scary. Not scary like my father, but scary like I may have lost the only friend I've ever had...

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