Cliché

chapter 31. bop it, twist it, pull it, stab it

TW: MENTIONS OF SELF HARM

I know what I need to do.

I simply walk out the front door and lock it behind me. I don't tell Brie where I'm going; I don't need to. She never leaves her room these days, like she's willfully imprisoning herself inside her very own mind, where thoughts are tainted with shadows and emotions tinged with darkness.

But I'm not one to say anything. I'm not any better, and I barely knew the guy.

The car ride feels empty. The radio's playing a song, but I can't tell which one because it all sounds like white noise. The rhythm is infectious though; I catch myself thrumming my fingers on the steering wheel along with the beat, filling the empty space left by everyone who had disappeared.

Eventually, I arrive at my destination. When I open the car door, the salty sea breeze sweeps past my cheek, but I don't notice the sensation nor the beauty of the cloudy ocean sunrise. I merely close the door and walk.

The restaurant I had been to once before, now being presented before me on an overcast morning, seems to match the mood I'm in. The flora and the lights that decorate the outside are dark and colorless, the patio empty and bare. I push open the glass door.

The restaurant hasn't opened yet, so only the owners and a few workers are present. I make my way towards the kitchen, where I know I'll find who I'm looking for.

After Brandon disappeared, Evan and Brielle became distant, meaning Evan and I started drifting as well. It isn't because we don't consider each other friends; especially at this time, we both consider the other one of our closest companions. It's because I've been spending more time at home with Brie, while Evan is spending more time helping out at his family's restaurant.

Which is why I know, at 7AM on a Saturday, a week after the disappearance of one of his best friends, I will find Evan in the kitchen.

"Hey," I say.

He looks up, startled, but a faint, relaxed smile appears on his lips once he realizes it's me. "Hey."

I watch him for a little bit as he stirs a large pot of red sauce.

"So, what brings you to La Stella?" He asks. Not out of curiosity, more so out of courtesy. I pause a bit before responding.

"Evan." I state firmly. It grabs his attention. "Do you trust me?"

His response is immediate. "No."

I sigh.

"I'm kidding. Of course I do," he reassures me sincerely.

I nod. "Are you willing to get hospitalized for the sake of the plot?"

He stops stirring. "Are you crazy?" He asks calmly, despite the heavy accusation behind the question.

"Yes." I shrug. "But I'm only doing this because we need to quickly reset the plot of the story so everything can go back to normal."

Evan presses his lips into a thin line. "But why do I have to be hospitalized?"

I chuckle, but it's dry, with no humor behind it. "Because that's what always happens in teen fiction. Some kind of hospital visit. It's basically inevitable."

Evan shakes his head. "Let's come up with another plot point then."

I clench my fist, but remain cool and collected. Now is not the time to turn against each other. "Evan. You're an important character. You won't die, no matter what. There's no time to stray into another path now. Let's just stick to what we know best: cliches."