itâs heavy, and itâs late, and nyx is tired, but that doesnât mean she decreases the speed of her fast-paced walking. her haste shouldnât exist, itâs not like he told her he was dying, but it does, and thereâs nothing she can do about it except get to where she needs to be. she contemplates dropping the instrument off at her parentâs apartment first, but thatâs a detour thatâll only make her journey longer. so she keeps it with her, positioned or perhaps practically resting on her back, looking as if it could crush her at any moment, and especially if she was to collapse with it still in her hold. it takes thirty minutes to reach him, sheâs almost positive by such a time heâd already given up hope, the thought of seeing her. when heâs finally within her view, thereâs a sense of ease that surges through her veins. thereâs nothing out of the ordinary that she notes down, but looks donât mean anything. she has to get him to talk to guarantee that heâs really, truly okay.
all sheâs able to infer currently is that he seems tired. but so does she. her bass is set down a couple feet in front of the couch, the weight being lifted off a complete relief. nyx doesnât hesitate to sit down⌠right on his stomach. similar to how a little kitten would, for instance. she doesnât like being concerned for anyone. but heâs not like the rest. if itâs not obvious enough, apologies are rare. but one is on the tip of her tongue when just how long she took to get there sinks in. she wants to blame it on her bass for slowing her down, but, truth be told, even without it there wouldnât have been much of a difference. so she saves the justification for another time, when itâs actually needed. â i left band practice for you. so are you going to tell me what happened to make today so bad? â ah.. just wait till the effects of the drugs he took that she has no clue about kick in. the regret could start building real fast.
NEVERÂ mind the dilated pupils or the chills that crawled on his skin despite the rise in temperature. Itâs euphoric, the hellish Garden of Eden thatâs playing in his head. Like an old cassette, the static of his own history puts him at ease.
He doesnât want to think about any of it.
His feet hang over the end of the couch, one arm pillows his own head and the other is uselessly slung over the side. Knuckles graze unclean carpet, just as his tongue had a sensual moment with plastic â it simply results in Everett pleasantly losing his shit. GOOD GOD he fucking loves this feeling. The restlessness and the slight panic, it has him on edge and he canât help but feel like the psychopaths that everyone yearns to avoid.
Itâs sudden, but itâs subtle.
He notes that he can even smell her (you know, how people have scents? how fucking weird is that) when she passes by him. The familiarity reaches all senses, from seeing short hair brush past her neck to feeling her weight on his middle. Her voice is nothing short of what it means, she knows something is going on.
Letâs play a game, white rabbit.Â
Everettâs gaze was hardly dull or blank, rather â it was full of intuition that he needed rid of. He saw too much, he was thinking too fast; once he propped himself up on his elbows he had a cheshire grin pull at the corners of his mouth. Intoxicated in this fucked up trance, the white rabbit suddenly felt the urge to reach up with his pointer finger and touch her cheek. As if to measure distance, heâs quietly shocked at the lack of distance since he thought she was further away.Â
Pale skin, it turned pink at his touch before returning to its previous state.
â Iâve been thinking a lot, â Careful now, little rabbit. Your words are slurring and your eyes are widening. â â about how bad it could get. You know? â
Everett spoke of his mind, he wondered endlessly about how dark it could go without losing its sense of light. To feel so lost without wondering what destination to find, he wanted to wander with wonder. Now, of all people, Nyx was the one thatâd probably be able to figure out that he wanted to trip in the dark. He wanted to see where he could fall, after hitting rock bottom people tell him that the only way is back up (fuck clicheâs though, he wants sadistic originality).
A chuckle leaked out of him, he suddenly imagined that he were in the complete dark. Nyx happened to be there for visual effect, but he saw himself deteriorate before her. Take this literally, hallucinations are meant to be interpreted. His skin began to burn and his smile disappeared too quickly when he realized where this was going.Â
He pushed her off before falling to the floor and letting out a horrified bellow.
There was harshness in the contact, because a part of him thought sheâd catch whatever he has. When she moved closer, Everett did what he could to stay away from her. He panicked when he backed away from her touch or her gaze, while doing so he rammed his head into the corner of the coffee table. â S-Stay away from me. â He scrambled to what he assumed was safety : his warm back now infested with chills as it was flush against the cold wall, his legs stretched out and his hands limp in his lap.Â
â Donât touch me â youâll start too... â Everett murmured, like a little boy terrified of another catching his cold. He looked down at his hands and found that they werenât melting and falling to the curse of gravity. He couldnât see his bones or his muscles, he only saw ragged callouses on long fingers and hardened palms. He put them to his face, hiding it and hoping heâd see the dark.
Wet, his palms felt wet and is throat felt dry. If his heart could beat any faster, he was sure to be dead.
Six feet and two inches of man sat alone by the wall, scared to death of his own becoming. A poison so powerful that it could deteriorate all things in him that remained humane. Everert, Everett, Everett you fucking white rabbit, prey to a beast so foul that it would shake him to his core.Â
â I wish I were dead. â Everettâs voice was a low grumble and it was muffled by his hands. But somehow, he felt like it was the first honest truth he had said in a long while. He had thought about it before, the potentials of how easy it would be to just end himself.Â
Why have someone else do it?
He shouldnât have called her, he thought to himself. Three clear naked plastic squares sat on the table, innocent to their taker and never bothering to tell him that there was such a thing as too much. Too much to handle, too much to swallow, too much numbness, too much for his tongue, for his heart, too much for Nyx.
Poor Nyx, what did he put her through?Â
Everett looked up in panic and in hope that she was really here, that she wouldnât leave like that.
