My Favourite Geek

32. Despaired Hobo is not a good look on you.

Dallas' POV

"Calm down."

"I c-can't. It's too much too bear."

"She's going to be fine."

"It's still all m-my fault. It's my fault."

Not that it was in my control, but I felt so angry with myself for not being aware of what happened with Channelle. If my readings are not wrong, I know for a fact that Yvonne is currently blaming herself for what happened. I felt myself rip to pieces when she kept sobbing on the phone, her sobs interfering with what she was saying every now and then.

I remain silent as she keeps talking. But after a while I ask, "Can I come over?"

She doesn't answer for a few seconds. "Sure." is all she says thereafter.

I hurriedly grab my keys and jacket, zooming out of the house to the direction of her house in the huge estate. It doesn't take long before I'm at her front door, hands deep in my pockets, with no clue on how to calm her down.

Once the door is opened, she looks up at me, hazel eyes filled to the brim with tears and crashes her body on mine, wrapping her arms around my waist tightly. Despite the situation I smile. This hugging is becoming a regular thing. Not like I'm complaining though.

We find ourselves sometime after, sitting side by side on the balcony of her house upstairs. I take the time to appreciate the house's interior decor. You tell just by looking at even a small vase that they are loaded with wealth. I scratch the nape of my neck, still thinking of what to say to make her feel better. She examines her fingernails absentmindedly, heavy, saddening thoughts obviously in her mind. Her glow and shine is no longer there.

She has dark patches under her eyes, which are sunken deep, she looks like she hasn't had a decent meal since Wednesday and her pout is gone.

Something about her demeanor and appearance reminds me of exactly how I was after Max died.

That's exactly how I looked like.

And it wasn't a wonderful experience.

I gaze still, then look forward, a side of my lips quirking up a little. "You know, I always wanted to have a younger sibling. My mom always wanted another kid. But my dad, well. He strayed too far. Didn't have the morals to raise me properly and certainly not another. And my mom loves him to the point that she doesn't even want to marry anyone anymore. He ruined her."

I sense she raises her head up, looking at me from the corner of my line of sight. "He's an ass." She finally speaks.

"Yeah." I breathe out. "He really is." I pause, facing her, trying to find a glimmer of self-acquired hope. "Bottomline is, well, I actually didn't know what to talk about and, my self-proclaimed twitchy brain decided I should just bring up someone I really wanted who never came, because of demons, both in the form of humans or the ones inside you. Inside everyone."

Her eyes drift down, away from my gaze.

"Everything can't go perfectly. I definitely do not need to ask whether this happens. Whether you do something, or say something, act in a certain way or do a certain thing that turns into an occurrence that can scar or hurt anyone you may have cared about, and then you feel, why did I act on impulse, not thinking logically before hand?"

"I feel that way all the time."

"Yvonne. Everybody feels that way. Everyone. And every passing moment. Some may look collected about it, but the demons inside them are raging, are angry. And they will sometimes make you act on that impulse."