Thirty One Days

Admit

The doorbell rang. I could hear mom's heels click on the hardwood floor downstairs as she went to answer it. I stopped reading. It had been three days since the incident with my reflection. Thinking of that day makes my arm itch and ache, I haven't left my bedroom since then, claiming to been backed up with homework. 
Mom's cheerful voice flowed up the stairway, her clicks following close behind sounding like teeth chomping on bone, as she brought the guest towards my room.
Before heading back to college, Dylan made me promise to let him know when anything serious happened. True to my word, I texted him when I had woken back up. The sun was high in the sky at that point. He insisted on coming home after class but I refused to be the reason he flunked out of college. In his absence, he sent someone else.
A gentle knock broke the silence in my room and caused me to jump, I had been on edge since that day. Standing, I tried to collect myself before the door opened.
"Yeah?" I smiled at mom and Istvan, who towered over mom by at least a foot. He awkwardly half-waved and mom let herself into my room.
"You really need to open these curtains," Mom said as she examined my room then turned back towards Istvan, who was still standing in the doorway of my bedroom. She often citquied my room especially after reading books on the effects of feng shui. "You're staying for dinner." She stated. 
"Yes Mrs. Spell."
"Good!" The energy coming off mom was contagious and almost nauseous but she had been happier in the last week then she had been in a while. "Stevie, door open." Mom commanded then planted a quick kiss on my head then headed back downstairs. Oddly enough I had never had a boy in my room, while my parents were home anyways. 
Silence filled the room as Istvan finally entered, leaving the door open as my mom had instructed, and stood awkwardly to the side of it. I could also feel the judgment coming off of him as he looked around my room. The room that was a constant reminder of who I was, a room that made me feel alienated as well as secure, offering comfort while it haunted me. I could always feel the old trophies and awards mocking me, playing back the moments I had obtained them. Or the pictures of my friends and our adventures that still hung on my wall, taunting me of the freedoms that I took for granted without realizing.
"I like your bookshelf," I had never realized how soft Istvan's voice was until now. Glancing towards an old, crooked bookshelf that sat in the corner of my room I couldn't help but laugh. Okay, maybe not judgment. 
"Dylan and my dad made it, like, forever ago," A smile pried it's way across my face as I remembered that day they brought it upstairs as a surprise for me.
Silence fell over us once again. I vaguely wished that I had tidied up my room before he arrived.
"Dylan said you wanted to talk to me."
I hesitated, "Yes."
"What about?"
I sighed because I knew there was no easy way to go around this without sounding more insane that I already will. Was it the growth of insanity or the thought of losing another bit of normality that frightened me more? Saying it made it real. Looking towards Istvan I noted his broad shoulders and posture, and his eyes that were vibrant green. However, there was also something secret behind those eyes. Something twinkled back at me. That is what I want to know.
"Where did you go your sophomore year?"
"Away." 
"Where?"
"On the east coast."
"Why?"
A shrug, he sounded like a recording. All answers rehearsed as to not be caught off guard. 
"Dylan said you were sick."
"Yes."
"Are you still sick?"
His shoulders tensed just enough to notice but I knew he wouldn't let me see behind his mask again. I could faintly hear a rain storm start, my body began to throb. 
"What did Dylan tell you?"
This question caught me off guard, did Dylan know more than he told me? He couldn't have or else he would have told me, right? I needed to trust Dylan, I reminded myself. 
"That you started acting weird then disappeared for a year. When you finally came back you acted as though nothing happened. Personally don't remember much other than Dylan being flustered all the time."
Istvan looked away from me, his hands began fumbling at his side and I couldn't help but wonder if this is how I appeared to people. Reserved, uninterested, and anxious. 
"Istvan, what happened?" My pulse stopped the moment he moved toward my window and pulled my blinds shut, discomfort was covering his face, then he returned to the doorway and shut the door slightly. He began mumbling to himself, his hands fumbling at his side as he paced on my carpeted floor. Then it dawned on me, I've seen this behavior before many times, he was battling himself. Reasoning and debating, determining right from wrong, he had dropped his act and had shown me his rare emotions. The very side of myself that I continued to struggle to hide, he had hid it so flawlessly. 
"Istvan?"
"You see it too?" Again he caught me by surprise, how could he be so forward about something like this. His eyes focused on something that wasn't me, he had gained control again and his shoulders slacked nonchalantly. 
"Yes,"I breathed. 
His green eyes flashed up at me as he sat next to me on my bed and moved in close.  The scent of mint drifted off of him and made its way towards me, cocooning me. The pain in his eyes were evident and clear but that was all they would reveal. 
"It only gets worse,"