Midnight

5

"Sit," Everett closed the bathroom door, pointing at the counter.

I hopped up alongside the sink, watching him rummage through a cabinet.

"Is it still bleeding?" He murmured.

I couldn't believe Everett when he reached for my face. He cradled my chin between his index and his thumb, tilting my head slightly up ever so softly. He held my face firmly and strongly, which didn't surprise me considering he always seemed to be angry. He examined whatever blood was left to see, and confirmed it had stopped.

He gathered a few tissues, running them under the faucet. One of his hands slid beneath my jaw, the other beginning to tap away at the blood.

His hand was big and rough, almost cold against the blush rising on my neck. His eyebrows never seemed to relax, always creased, but his eyes looked determined and almost emotional. As if he needed to cry or yell or whatever, he just looked upset.

I wondered if he too felt a strange strain in his body. There was a new, unknown, and almost uncomfortable tension rolling off of both of us.

It was then, when his big thumb stroked my jaw that my stomach dropped, as if I were on a rollercoaster.

I jumped off the counter immediately, almost smacking his forehead with my own, and snatched the damp  tissue from him.

"I-I'll do it myself," I said quickly and quietly. I pulled my hair from behind my ear, hoping to shield the embarrassment that was clear on my face. "Thank you."

"Whatever," Everett sighed forcefully, nearly slamming the door as he stomped out.

Jeez.

Everett had been so irritable this past week and I had no clue how to handle him. Maybe that was his last straw, and he'd go back to the silent treatment next week, as if this never happened. I'd surely fail the English project then.

How could he be so harsh?

I stared at my reflection, suddenly revolted with what I had done. I ruined the smallest progress we had made. If I couldn't possibly last an hour or two with him, how could we be friends again? My heart began to throb and I was ashamed to feel the lump in my throat.

I wanted to bawl like a child over losing Everett, my best friend of seven years, who couldn't seem to stay around me any longer. I must be the most repulsive being he had ever laid eyes on.

What was I thinking, an hour of pretending to get along would heal the past few years?

I blinked back the fresh tears in my eyes before they could fall, wiping the few bits of blood I missed away roughly.

An awkward unease filled my stomach as I realized I was basically hiding in his bathroom, in his house, and he was probably out there somewhere.

Oh, god.

I had no ride but him, my car was still in the school parking lot.

I threw the tissue in the trash can, how could I be so brainless! He had diluted my thought process again!
I began pacing across the small bathroom, trying to work up the nerve to walk out. What could I do, what could I say to make up for this?

Maybe apologizing would help. I didn't know what I'd done to seem so sickening to Everett, but I could figure it out.

I huffed a big breath before pushing open the door slowly, cringing when the hinges began to squeak. I had to restrain myself from glancing into his room again.

As I tiptoed down the hallway— which, for some reason felt necessary, as if any noise would irritate Everett even more— I spotted the photo of Everett and I again. I wanted to pull the picture from its frame and tuck it in half so that I would be hidden. He would be happier that way.

Just as I reached for it, I heard a heavy sigh.

I turned to the sound to find Everett's silhouette at the end of the hallway. I retracted my arm immediately. I felt my posture go rigid when he nodded his head, wanting me to follow him.

I was working out the apology in my head as I made my way to him anxiously. He didn't say anything when he picked up his keys, and fled to his car.

Everett's behavior had switched drastically since we were friends. I knew he'd grow and change, but never imagined he'd come to this. I wondered if his sports friends brought him to this, his father, or whatever I hadn't looked into. And his behavior was still changing within minutes.

This time he didn't hold the door for me, only left it hanging open. I took that as an indication that he was driving me home, but wouldn't risk his pride by saying it out loud.

He must be really angry with me.

I slid quietly into his car, considering the foolish idea of sitting in the back. His anger was rolling off of him in waves, I could almost feel it. Though his muscles never relaxed today, they seemed to be more taught, strumming with tension.

His arms were revealed now, I watched the rounds of muscle shift with his every move. Everett wouldn't look at me, and I was almost thankful, as I was able to get away with watching him.

I thought over today as we drove, how much had happened. Though things seemed to backfire in the end, I was glad Everett chose to talk to me. I remembered one of the first things he said today, he asked if he could explain.

My leg began to bounce, would I finally get my answer? Perhaps it was a false promise, after he stormed out of the bathroom, I doubted he'd engage with me any longer.

But our friendship had made even the slightest bit of progress, and I beamed a great big grin when I realized that.

Everett was quiet the entire ride, and I wondered if he'd choose to speak to me when he pulled in front of my house. I was happy that he remembered where I lived.

Could I fix his silence with an apology, or would it escalate things?

He wouldn't look at me when he put the car in park, and I was expecting him to chase me out of his front seat.

"Everett," I began, my voice sounded strange to me, it had been too quiet for too long. "I'm sorry."

I waited for a response, but he gave me none. He turned, looking at me with his wrinkled eyebrows.

"I didn't mean to upset you earlier, and I'm glad you chose to help me today, but— I don't know if I can ignore what you've made me feel the past few years," I blurted, embarrassed that I couldn't quite get my point across. But to be fair, I was walking on eggshells around him.

"What do you mean by," He paused, his eyes narrowed for a moment, and I swear his skin flushed a soft pink. "What you felt?"

"Hm?" I blinked back at him, puzzled. I didn't want to say it aloud, I would surely upset him. "You know, when you kind of, sort of, ditched me." My voice turned to a whisper as I mumbled the last part.

"Oh!" He leaned away, exclaiming as if he forgot. He raked his hand down his face, shaking his head. "Right, that."

I raised my eyebrows, expecting an explanation.

"Nevermind then," I murmured after a moment, reaching for the door handle. It felt as if some other being had possessed Everett. I mean, he looked like himself, but he had changed so much it was hard to guess his next move. Never would I have thought Everett would disregard my words.

"No, Cel," He leaned over me, pulling my hand from the handle. I froze when I heard my nickname. "Just—give me some time. Please. I can't unload all of this on you at once. There's so much more to this than you think."

I must've looked like a deer in headlights to Everett. After a frozen moment of gazing back at him with big eyes, I slowly looked down at my hand, the one he was holding.

His gaze followed my own, seeing our intertwined fingers, before he let out the quietest gasp and dropped my hand.

"Can't you tell me something?" I whispered. "Anything?"

He stared back for a few minutes with a troubled expression. I watched his jaw flex, his eyes flickering with something I couldn't decipher.

"Later," He whispered back before he looked out his windshield, staring at my house's front window.