Winged

Chapter 12

"So you're not going to tell me?" Timothee asked, his voice soft as he stared at Evan, who had his back at him, sat down at his piano stool, with head hanging. There had been nearly two hours since Timothee had shown Evan this picture, and Evan had not said a word since then. Not a word, or even a glance towards Timothee's direction. It was as though, this picture had turned him into a wordless creature. Who was wandering around the house, avoiding answering that one question of Timothee at all costs.

"They're nobody, Timothee." Evan finally spoke, his voice broken. In a way, Timothee had never heard it before. He felt shivers down his spine at the sound of it. This was not Evan's voice. This was not Evan speaking. Evan was happy, and cheerful, and always up to something. Evan was not someone to give such an answer, in such a way. "They're three nobody's, Timmy."

Evan added this time unable to hide the tears that were lingering. The moment he had spoken those words it was as though the tears got the approval they needed and slipped from his eyes. He rested his head against the piano, as he silently sobbed, his eyes still glued at the picture, though now it was a blurry one.

Timothee didn't know. He didn't know that this picture would cause such a situation. He didn't know a picture could get this self out of Evan. If he did know he would have not asked him about it. He would never have. Even if it meant that he would never know about it, about Evan's history, he much preferred it to make him hurt. To make him cry. Although, he still couldn't wrap his mind around it. How could a picture make him that emotional?

And we could say it was because he missed them. But why would he have said that they are nobody's? Why would he have said that as though they had hurt him more than anyone?

"Evan... Don't cry..." Timothee pleaded, feeling so strange at the sight of Evan crying. It was as though part of his, Timothee's, soul was being hurt with every tear Evan set. And Timothee found himself again unable to explain why. Why was he feeling that way? Why were Evan's emotions affecting him so much? "Please stop crying..."

Evan couldn't hear him though. He couldn't help himself out of the abyss he was in right now. Memories are a funny thing. They can lift you up. But bring you down instantly. Now memories had dragged Evan so down he felt like he had just hit bottom wreck.

Maybe it sounds dramatic. Maybe it is. Maybe it's just the truth. But what it surely is, painful. Either way, it pained him. In a way, he hadn't been pained in years. And he was doing fine. He was great. He thought that for a moment he could forget. Forget and start over. But he couldn't escape it. He couldn't escape a fate written only for him. It was an impossible thing to do. And he felt like a fool. Like a fool that he thought he could go on like this. Go on pretending that the faces in the picture never existed.

Because there was one time that they existed for him. There was even a happy time when they existed for him. When the four of them were truly what they were destined to be. Or maybe there was never a happy time. Maybe Evan wished there was, and thus he had created this image in his head.

"Oh, Evan, please s-stop crying..." Timothee softly said, internally begging for the dark-haired boy to stop sobbing, as he stood up from the couch, reluctantly going towards Evan who was sobbing with his face buried inside his hands. Part of him was flaming. Wanting to know the truth. But all the other part wanted was for Evan to stop crying, for Evan to go back to his normal self. For Evan to stop hurting. This part didn't care for the truth. All it cared about was Evan. Screw the truth, as long as Evan is happy, screw it. But again. He needed to know the truth. Something was pushing him there.

"Are they your siblings, Evan?" He asked. He didn't know when he formed the words but he did. And now Evan had stopped crying, staring with tear-stained eyes at Timothee before shaking his head 'No'. A 'No' that apparently hadn't even convinced Evan himself.

"I don't have siblings." Evan stated, his jaw setting as tears filled his eyes again and he bit his lip trying to stop them. Timothee stared at him and down to the floor. Evan was lying. It was obvious. But he was also hurting. And Timothee was torn in the middle. Two voices having a fight inside his head, on what he should do.

"You've told me that... But... You four look exactly alike. You look... You look like a family." Timothee told him and that was all Evan needed to let the tears he was holding. Only that this time the just slipped from his eyes and down his cheeks, but Evan's sight didn't flinch. He was still looking into Timothee's eyes, not caring for the tears.

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Evan asked, getting kind of defensive.

"It means that when people look that much alike they are probably siblings or family, especially when they're in the same picture."

"They are not my siblings, Timothee. They are not my siblings." Evan said, repeating himself as though he was mostly trying to convince himself.

"You're... Gods! You all literally have the same features. How can you not be siblings?" Timothee asked suddenly kind of annoyed as to why Evan was getting defensive over a clear lie.

"Because siblings don't just look alike! You have to feel something about the people that are your siblings! These people are not my siblings! This girl is not my sister and those boys are not my brothers! My brother is Oren. Oren and only Oren!" Evan broke down, actually shouting the words, with more tears yelping in his eyes.

"I-"

"Stop digging at the past, Timothee! It's painful to do it. What is gone is gone! The past is called past because you are not getting there ever again. And you, Timothee, you may want to get there. But I don't! I don't! I don't! I don't!" Evan continued, through tears, leaving Timothee too stunned to even try to say something. Gods... He would have never brought this up if only he had known that Evan would be absolutely devastated because of it. "Those people are NOT my siblings! I don't want them to be! I want nothing to do with them! And no relation to them!"

"Ev-"

"I don't know what those people are to me, Timothee, but I can tell you what I am to them. I am dead. And I was dead to them long before I found myself here. A really long time before." Evan said, and with no more than another word he stormed up the stairs, a loud thump echoing some moments before.

He left Timothee alone again. With his thoughts raging, and Evan's words marked on his mind.

His eyes traveled at the place Evan was standing some moments before, but instead of Evan, on the floor, there was the picture. The picture that had caused this mess. The glass of it shuttered.

With a sigh he knelt down, picking up the glasses with shaking hands as he started getting mad at himself. It was not his place to speak. It was not his place to ask Evan all that.

"Damn it..." He cursed under his breath as blood started pouring from his fingertip, sucking the blood off of it as he lifted his eyes from the floor, looking at the windowsill again.

Where a white cat, that looked awfully alike with the one he had seen some hours ago, was standing, staring at him.