Chapter Text
His words hang in the air, tempting and dangerous. Your hands fall limp. The weight of your body seems to unnaturally weaken with gravity. He’s lowering you by using his Davinci.
“Come on. You seemed so full of fire a second ago. Now you look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he taunts.
A ghost. Ironic since you’re staring at a person who died.
Your lips feel dry. You let your tongue drag between them, watching as Isaac’s eyes follow the movement.
“What’re you doing?” you ask, your voice shaky. He smiles at the apparent waver in the inquiry. His eyes glimmer with mischief before narrowing on your face.
“Me? Oh… I’m not doing anything.” He leans further towards me, the tip of his nose brushing against your own. “Yet.”
The lump you swallow practically echoes. One of his gloved hands reaches out, his palm cupping your cheek. The soft endearment shifts. He allows his thumb to wrap around your jaw, squeezing your face together.
“Look at you… you should be scared right now, but you’re not. You’re only curious – and excited.”
Shame burns on your face. He loosens his grip, standing tall and shoving his hands in his pants pockets. The way he holds himself makes you shrink further into your seated position on the bed.
His words, his stature… all of it makes you feel so… vulnerable. But it’s not a bad feeling.
Not at all.
Then, there’s a knock on your door.
“Hello? You in there?”
Even though the voice is muffled, you’d recognize that dorky lisp anywhere. Eugene.
Your eyes bulge, widening with panic. You forgot to keep an eye on the time.
Isaac bandaging your foot had taken a while. The pain and vulnerability of the situation forced you to focus on the man without a thought for any other responsibilities.
You were supposed to meet Eugene at the Hummer’s shed this morning. And the digital clock on the side of your bed blinks with a number that makes your stomach drop.
It’s past noon.
“Oh fuck.”
Isaac furrows his brows at the vulgar word leaving your mouth. You don’t give him much time to react before shoving him into your closet, shushing him.
He obliges out of curiosity.
“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck…” You mumble, placing your hand on your doorknob before taking a deep breath.
It’ll be fine. Right?
It’s not like you forgot to meet up with Eugene and had a serial killer hiding in your closet.
Swinging the door open, you give a guilty smile. The familiar face of the bee boy scowling makes your insides twist with shame.
“Hi, Eug—”
“Oh, save it. You were supposed to meet up with me, and you didn’t. Do you even care about our friendship?” His angry voice lowers, his eyes softening. “Do you even care about me?”
Ouch. The words seem to pull on something in your chest, creating a brutal sting.
You shift on your feet, swallowing a lump in your throat before biting on the inside of your cheek. “I do. I’m sorry, I just…”
Your entire body freezes as you see another body come in behind Eugene from the dorm hallway. It’s Wednesday.
Both you and Eugene turn to look at the pigtailed girl. She glares with an obscene amount of hatred.
“Tyler confessed to his upcoming meet-up with you scheduled for today,” she starts. You wince seeing Eugene glance towards you with a look of betrayal. “I am here to inform you that it will no longer be happening. Stay out of my way, or you will regret it.”
The warning is harsh, but honestly, you’re more worried about Eugene than Wednesday in this moment. He’s looking at you with a broken expression painted on his face, one that screams just how double-crossed he feels in the moment.
Wednesday leaves, turning sharply on her platform boots. You cringe as you watch Eugene huff and shake his head. The disappointment radiating off of him makes your stomach churn, the amount of guilt consuming your chest and tightening the skin on your body unbearably.
“Eugene, I–”
“Save it. You’re supposed to be my friend. This… this isn’t being a friend at all. You’re putting yourself in danger, putting me in danger, and – and being… you’re being someone I don’t even recognize.”
Oh.
Shame erodes your posture. You slouch into yourself, trying to hold back tears as the bee boy shakes his head with a sad huff.
“Find me when you’re ready to be a good friend – and a good person. Not doing… whatever the hell this is,” he spits.
Your nose twitches. The boy leaves, dragging his feet angrily on the ground down the hallway. Softly shutting the door, you hear his words echo in your head, biting at your heart.
You’re an awful friend – a horrible person, too. Every decision you’ve been making has been… not right.
Wrong seems too decisive to admit.
Shutting the door, you gulp. It feels awful to know you hurt someone, even worse knowing you don’t truly regret everything you’ve done.
Isaac shouldn’t be in your room right now. You shouldn’t trust a man who’s killed so blindly, but you do. Because for some reason, you can understand why he’s done what he’s done.
But good people don’t sympathize with those things, do they?
They care about the greater good, they care about doing what’s right, and punishing all that’s wrong.
You don’t.
You see shades of grey. Even in the purest righteous acts, there’s still a soft tint of darkness in every circumstance. And in the most heinous events, you see the once glowing white that dimmed from uncontrollable variables.
Loss.
Fear.
Hopelessness.
Maybe people weren’t good. Perhaps they just had not experienced anything tainted enough to understand why nothing could be strictly determined as right and wrong.
“Are you okay, Dove?”
His hand landing on your shoulder from behind pulls you back to reality. You blink back the warmth gathering in your tear ducts, letting out a deep sigh.
“I… I don’t know anymore.”