Cliché

chapter 32. the final cliche

Silent and empty, but not quite cold. It's the warmth of falling, preserved stars and rusted gold painted upon glass. But not quite silent either— a soft beeping, off time with the thud of my heartbeat. A tear rolls down my cheek and collects at the point of my chin.

"Iris, what the hell are you doing?" Evan glances at me, shooting a judgmental side eye my way.

I wipe my eye with my sleeve, sitting back on my haunches from where I am at his bedside. As retaliation, I size him up right back.

Even though the stab wound is magically curing at a rate that shouldn't be physically possible, bandages cover his entire torso, and an IV is stuck in his arm. I shake my head, knowing he doesn't actually need any of those things.

"Practicing for the scene. Hello?" I exaggeratedly roll my eyes at him. "Why are you looking at me like that? I'm the one who had to drive you to the hospital over a little scratch."

"You fucking stabbed me!"

I lightly pat his abdomen with an amused smirk on my lips, enjoying his fuming irritation. "Wrong. You accidentally stabbed yourself, buddy."

I'm 100% that if he wasn't in a hospital bed, he'd kill me right now.

Before he can consider alternatives and wrap the IV tube around my neck, Brie rushes in, her teddy bear brown locks thrown into a ponytail and bunny slippers still on her feet. As she enters the room, her eyes lock onto Evan, her face paling.

"He's fine." I wave my hand in dismissal, punching Evan's arm to further prove my point.

"Ow," Evan hisses, throwing me a deadly glare. Then he turns to Brie, his gaze softening. "Yes, I'm fine, Brielle."

The relief blooms on her face, returning the color along with it. She walks to the other side of Evan's bed and sits on a plastic chair, her movements cautious as if any misstep could cause Evan to flatline.

We don't say anything. There isn't really anything to say. A comfortable silence slithers around the room like a cool fog.

Of course, I'm the first one to break it.

"Brie, how did you even get here?"

She looks down, fidgeting with the dainty golden rings on her fingers. "I borrowed Mrs. William's car."

I narrow my eyes. "Borrowed?"

Brie tilts her head side to side. "I guess you could say stole."

A heartbreakingly happy grin rises on Evan's lips as he looks at Brie, his pride uncontained. "Brandon and I are rubbing off on you, huh?"

Brie flinches at the mention of Brandon, and the relaxed lethargy that comes with a fictional school day afternoon slowly melts into one of sorrowful remembrance and emptiness. Not letting our morale slip right after we just hit another plot point, I quickly change the subject onto a lighter note.

"Hey, do you think it's possible to graduate in October?"

Brie grimaces. "I can't think of any way we can pull that off. Pushing up homecoming was difficult enough."

Evan smirks, reaching for his phone on the bedside table. He scrolls through it, and upon finding what he wanted to, turns it around to show the both of us. "Alright, Brie gets to choose this time. Should we blackmail the principal with his acceptance of off-the-record payments in order to raise grades, or his browsing of inappropriate content on school technology during school hours?"

Both our jaws drop. I snatch Evan's phone from his hand, not only looking through the concrete evidence of our principal's wrongdoings, but all the dirt Evan has on his cellphone. Slowly, I look up, awe with a hint of newfound fear in my eyes.