This is So Wrong (G/t)

3

Evan sat. He thought, cried, and sat. All of his senses of ethics and morals and the thoughts of his upbringings were flooding and rushing through him. And with them, he realized - he finally realized - nothing about this was right. But, he had no one to explain that or talk about it to, at least no one close by. The farm, despite having at least a hundred or so magically shrunken servants (as far as Evan knows), was secluded and lonely, with only his family there, and he could only have communication with the outside world through school functions or in secret. He just wished someone could just- 

"Aah!" Evan shrieked as a sudden yet small pressure was felt on the upper left side of his back, and the cause of it definitely was a shocker. "A-Ayana? Wh-Wha-?"

"Do. NOT. Touch. Me," the little lady's stare commanded as Evan's hands began to come for her. "Oh god, please don't let him touch me." 

Fortunately, and to her surprise, he understood, complied, and went back to his previously slumped over pose, not saying another word. Ayana was able to the sloped surface she was on to be able to climb up the sea foam green cotton shirt all the way onto his shoulder, but she decided to just lean there, rather than take a seat. At this new angle of hers, she had a better view of Evan's obvious farmer's tan, his short hair cut, and the dirty and toughened skin on his hands that only a farmer's kid could have. She didn't know why, but she was definitely observing the kid much more than usual. Hopefully, he'll never catch her looking-

"What are you doing?" Evan asked out of nowhere, frightening the woman perched on his shoulder. 

Ayana nearly slipped once the big man's gaze, voice, and movement of his head hit her, but she was able to keep a hold of herself. Evan saw the flub and was wanting to help her, but he knew that would've been awkward for both of them.

Ayana flinched again, not from a risk of pain, but from the volume and power in Evan's voice. "Jeez, you'd think he'd realize from his comment about my voice that his voice just might be a bit too much from me, especially with this closeness. I was kind of hoping he wasn't as dense as his papers said." 

In truth, she had been cringing from his sound (and not just his magnitude) the entire time she's been with him, but she's good at hiding her emotions... when she wanted to. Now, though, her body couldn't withstand it anymore.

As Evan kept trying to get an answer from her, the living doll kept wincing. But, after a few trials, he did make the connection. 

"Ayana, I- Oh. Ohhhh. Is this better?" he tried, at a much lower amplitude than his norm. Ayana, relieved at the change, calmly nodded, almost showing a bit of a grin. Almost. "Oh, okay. Th-That's good. Have I been that loud the whole time?" From the classic stare she gave him, he automatically knew what that meant. "*chuckle* Then, why didn't you say anything?" Like he expected, she said nothing, but there had to be a reason. "Come on, Yanie. Tell me."

"Heh, like I'd tell you- What the-? 'Yanie'? Oh hell no." 

Ayana wasn't one for nicknames. No one she knew and trusted ever gave her a nickname. Like, you can't do much with a name like 'Ayana', right? She didn't receive a nickname or some kind of new way of being addressed until she and her family were abducted and transformed. None of the other Fowlers called her Yanie - that was a new one - but the names she did get from them just made her feel low and useless, like a pet - a pet name. Maybe that was the point of them. 

"What am I? A dog to you!? I am NOT Yanie! You don't even have a chance of me telling you anything now. I don't want to get myself killed."

"Tell me, Yanie. Tell me. Tell me." Despite officially being an adult, Evan reverted to a childish way and commenced being an annoyance, hopefully being enough to get her to crack, like she did before... you know, without the anger, of course. The way he shrugged the shoulder she was on with every sentence probably amplified the possible displeasure. "Tell me. Tell me." And, it was working, just like last time. "Why don't you ever talk to me, Yanie? Tell me. Tell me. Tell-"