Comatose

Where Liars Go

Pan's waiting for me when I head back to my room for the night. I pretend not to notice him as I peel off my useless, cut up cotton gloves and kick my beaten canvas shoes to the side; it's a game we play sometimes, a game with no fun and no winners. Who can outlast the silence the longest? He and I are the pieces, our dismantled group home is the board. All other people and places are mere scenery. Sometimes I like it. Sometimes I'd rather kick his pretty face in. It really depends on which level we're on at the time.

Before I can really get into it, Pan shuts the door and steps right up to me, breaking the rules. "What did she say?" he asks first

I mentally line up a tally mark for my side of the sheet. "Ana? Not much." Liar.

His lips curl up in an impish smile. "Liar," he accuses softly, unwittingly echoing my thoughts. Or maybe he did hear it. I wouldn't put mind-reading too far past his impressive list of skills at this point in our relationship. "Did she tell you what happened?" he presses on.

"Why are you so interested all of a sudden?" I sound harsher than I intended to, but I don't take back the question.

"Just because." Pan's smile widens. "Jealous, Jane?"

I snort, swinging my hair over my shoulder and spinning away to find my hairbrush. "As if. I don't care who you concern yourself with." Liar. No point in worrying whether he'll hear that one too; we both know I'm faking every word.

Pan follows me lazily and sits on the floor beside my bed while I grab the brush I was looking for and start working through the knots and frizz from today's adventures. He looks like a careless, handsome mess of long limbs and tanned skin, blond head resting back against my mismatched blankets. They smell blank and dusty, like I've never used them, though that's another untruth. Sleep is one of my various pleasures these days; for some reason, I don't think I got a lot of it before I can remember. Shame on forgotten me.

It takes a long time for either of us to puncture the silence again. "I asked what she was doing here and she told me," I say reluctantly, wary to reveal my only leverage keeping him here.

"What'd she say?" he questions, clearly taking thought not to sound so eager.

"Not much," I say again, mostly because it makes him groan. A slight smirk touches my cool expression. "She said there was a darkness in her head, something wicked that makes her do bad things when she's not looking. Like a split personality, only hers is angry."

He nods, considering this without much emotion to give his thoughts away. "Did she mention why this...something...is angry?"

"I don't think she really knows. She doesn't seem to know a whole lot about it at all, actually."

"Odd. Anything else?"

I growl. Is he really only here to interrogate me about Ana? "No." After a pause, I blurt out "I told her about when I joined up."

Pan lifts his head, eyebrows only a little surprised by my outburst. "Did you? Well, that's an improvement. I thought you would hate her unconditionally."

"Excuse me?" I point the hairbrush at him, my other arm crooked threateningly on my hip. "Are you implying I'm unfriendly toward recruits, Pan? You may be our fearless leader, but surely you aren't that fearless."

He chuckles, raising his palms in surrender, and shakes his head. His eyes light up playfully at the question. "Surely not. I'd never doubt your sweetness and sincerity in all endeavors."

"Good. You remember that, dear." It occurs to me that we might be flirting for real this time. But that's ridiculous. All possibly flirtatious discourse between Pan and I has already been established as purely friendly. He wouldn't break that rule too without invitation, and I certainly can't allow myself to step far enough over the lines to do so. It'd be so...well, ridiculous. It'd never work. We're both far too messed up for a sweeping teenage romance.