Evangeline (Unedited)

22

S N O W
(New book cover because I had to fix it <|3 Maybe I'll end up bringing the other one back, I don't know how I feel about this one yet. Opinions? This chapter is very much about the penthouse again. I wish I was better at describing the layout, but eventually, it'll blend with the ones you guys already imagine. For some reason I always imagine the same house/apartments for every book I read, so I expect you guys do too lol. Sorry for late updates, ADHD sucks.)

I'm scared that I'll be alone forever.

I don't know what's wrong with me, why I'm wired this way, why I can't hold conversations with these guys or anyone, why every time I speak, it gets awkwardly quiet.

I left the room to look around a little, just from the hallway the stairs led up to. Alessandro was walking back at that moment and decided to check on me. I, being me, made it awkward again by stuttering and saying everything wrong.

Breathing hurts. It's the kind of pain that shouldn't be physical but is anyway. Everything feels so small and large at once. I'm sitting in the new bedroom, my chest beating rapidly, the familiar aching growing like old pines in my chest. White curtains, white blankets, white everything, little specks of orange from the city lights here and there. It's all white. Like snow, like blizzards, I can't see through, but I'm squinting, marching, and trying so hard because I need to.

I hear the door open, the knob rattling as whoever walks in, touches it. I internally freak out, but instead of trying to move knowing I'd fall over, I look away, moving my neck hard enough to throw my wispy hair in front of my face. Some sticks to my wet cheeks, and some of it sticks to the back of my neck, dripping with anxiety.

"Hey, Evie." Leo sighs, his footsteps approaching the bed.

At least I can hear him this time. At least I know it's not my brother. This one wasn't as bad as the one at the cottage. I am aware enough. However, sometimes it's hard to figure that out at the moment when it feels like the unrelenting frost is creeping further through my veins. I look up from my hands, which we're picking at themselves. I examine the unfamiliar room, still facing away from him and shudder inwardly at the foreignness of it all. It was strange, and I was unsure it would ever feel different.

It's like the first snow—something new. It covers the fallen leaves, the old stuff, with a beautiful layer of powder. It's like sleeping with tears in your eyes and having to wipe them away the next morning. Or like watching a rainfall after a drought. It covers the past enough to hide it for a while. But the first snow is fleeting and melting at your touch. It feels like it will never happen again. But it does.

I'm scared that I'll be alone forever, the words echoed again, even with Leo sitting beside me on the bed.

"It's just me, you, and Wilbur home. The others went to pick up takeout, cause Sandro didn't want to cook. I-" He pauses. I can feel his eyes staring into my head and desperately try not to breathe or sniffle too loud. "You okay?"

I nod quickly. Too quickly for him apparently, because he's standing up and walking around my legs to see my face, sitting on the ground in front of me. Guilt creeps onto my face, coating me in a red blush as I watch him sit on the floor of his own home for me. For me.

"M'sorry," I muttered, clenching my face as I wiped my eyes in embarrassment.

"Don't be sorry." He frowns. "Are you having another panic attack?"

"Better now." I shrug, looking away again. He sighs.

"Do you have them often?"

"Often enough."