Winged

Chapter 23

"Oh my god..." Evan's lips were barely moving as the sounds escaped his mouth. He did not know what to say. He was the kind of person who always knew what to say. But now? Now it felt impossible to him to say anything else. He could not wrap his mind around all of the things Timothee had just told him. He felt his heart physically aching as Timothee's words replayed inside his head, and Timothee's eyes were glistening with tears in the dark.

They stayed in silence for some moments, both of them needing it, each one for their own reasons. Timothee wanted Evan to hug him, to wrap his gentle arms around him and hold him, to take away this unbearable feeling of loneliness as he remembered all that. Evan, on the other hand, wanted to move closer to Timothee and snuggle against his embrace, to feel this human contact that could make him feel less sick. Because he did, he felt sick. He felt sick that he was male at the moment. There were stories like this one that were making him ashamed that he was a man, ashamed that other men could even think that they have any right to touch a woman against her will. But it was not just that. It was the fact that Timothee... Timothee was the biological child of this monster. He was such a beautiful, gorgeous existence that had come out of something so dark and twisted. And he was amazing, he was a lovely person. With an enviable personality. The kind of person someone was lucky to have met.

Evan thought for a moment, how was that possible. How could someone so great come out of someone so horrible? But then it hit him. It hit him that he, himself, was one of those. He was a good person that had come out of awful ones. It felt wrong, thinking of it that way. Evan was sure about Timothee. He was sure he was an amazing human being. But for himself? He was not sure if he was even close to 'good person' let alone 'amazing human being'. Maybe he was not a good person, after all. He had done bad things, that was for sure. Maybe he just liked to believe he was. Maybe after all he was the same as his parents.

This thought killed him, his insides twisting, making him physically sick. It was the worst for him. Becoming like his parents. He'd rather die than doing it. Which he already had done, to be honest. He wanted to make those thoughts go away, he wanted to forget them, to lock them in a dark corner of his mind and never think of them again.

Instinctively, he searched for Timothee's hand in the dark and clutched it in his own, holding the cold hand of the boy as though it was his only protection in the world. If Timothee's eyes were not wide already, they certainly were now. The feeling of Evan's skin against his, the warmth of his hand, the soft complexion. The feeling of him just being there. Just existing alongside with him. It was enough to make him forget about everything. Timothee waited for Evan to talk, to say something, because that was what he always did, but instead Evan said nothing, he just shifted a little closer to Timothee, praying that he would not notice.

"Evan," Timothee surprisingly spoke first, his voice barely above a whisper, as though he was trying to keep quite as not to wake up some invisible guest on their home. "I'm sorry I was harsh on you."

"It's fine, Timmy. You don't have to apologize." Evan softly replied, a sad smile creeping on his lips, their hands still linked.

"No, it's not fine... I was unfair. And I don't like being harsh on you. It's not what you deserve." Timothee apologized, this apology hanging on his lips for some time now. He could get easily mad, and say things he did not mean, things that were hurting the other person but he felt terrible about it once the storm was gone. "I just... I care about you. And if you're suffering, I want you to tell me so we can suffer together. Just like when you laugh and you tell me so I can laugh too, just like that."

"I'm afraid." Evan admitted and Timothee almost did not hear it, and even though he did he thought he had heard wrong. Evan was afraid? Timothee just turned his head towards Evan, looking at him with furrowed eyebrows, waiting for some further explanations. "I am afraid that if I tell you everything you're going to look at me differently, and hate me, and leave me. And I can't... I can't have you leaving me."