NEVER mind the dilated pupils or the chills that crawled on his skin despite the rise in temperature. It’s euphoric, the hellish Garden of Eden that’s playing in his head. Like an old cassette, the static of his own history puts him at ease.
He doesn’t want to think about any of it.
His feet hang over the end of the couch, one arm pillows his own head and the other is uselessly slung over the side. Knuckles graze unclean carpet, just as his tongue had a sensual moment with plastic — it simply results in Everett pleasantly losing his shit. GOOD GOD he fucking loves this feeling. The restlessness and the slight panic, it has him on edge and he can’t help but feel like the psychopaths that everyone yearns to avoid.
It’s sudden, but it’s subtle.
He notes that he can even smell her (you know, how people have scents? how fucking weird is that) when she passes by him. The familiarity reaches all senses, from seeing short hair brush past her neck to feeling her weight on his middle. Her voice is nothing short of what it means, she knows something is going on.
Let’s play a game, white rabbit.
Everett’s gaze was hardly dull or blank, rather — it was full of intuition that he needed rid of. He saw too much, he was thinking too fast; once he propped himself up on his elbows he had a cheshire grin pull at the corners of his mouth. Intoxicated in this fucked up trance, the white rabbit suddenly felt the urge to reach up with his pointer finger and touch her cheek. As if to measure distance, he’s quietly shocked at the lack of distance since he thought she was further away.
Pale skin, it turned pink at his touch before returning to its previous state.
Strange.
“ I’ve been thinking a lot, ” Careful now, little rabbit. Your words are slurring and your eyes are widening. “ — about how bad it could get. You know? ”
Everett spoke of his mind, he wondered endlessly about how dark it could go without losing its sense of light. To feel so lost without wondering what destination to find, he wanted to wander with wonder. Now, of all people, Nyx was the one that’d probably be able to figure out that he wanted to trip in the dark. He wanted to see where he could fall, after hitting rock bottom people tell him that the only way is back up (fuck cliche’s though, he wants sadistic originality).
A chuckle leaked out of him, he suddenly imagined that he were in the complete dark. Nyx happened to be there for visual effect, but he saw himself deteriorate before her. Take this literally, hallucinations are meant to be interpreted. His skin began to burn and his smile disappeared too quickly when he realized where this was going.
He pushed her off before falling to the floor and letting out a horrified bellow.
There was harshness in the contact, because a part of him thought she’d catch whatever he has. When she moved closer, Everett did what he could to stay away from her. He panicked when he backed away from her touch or her gaze, while doing so he rammed his head into the corner of the coffee table. “ S-Stay away from me. ” He scrambled to what he assumed was safety : his warm back now infested with chills as it was flush against the cold wall, his legs stretched out and his hands limp in his lap.
“ Don’t touch me — you’ll start too… ” Everett murmured, like a little boy terrified of another catching his cold. He looked down at his hands and found that they weren’t melting and falling to the curse of gravity. He couldn’t see his bones or his muscles, he only saw ragged callouses on long fingers and hardened palms. He put them to his face, hiding it and hoping he’d see the dark.
Wet, his palms felt wet and is throat felt dry. If his heart could beat any faster, he was sure to be dead.
Six feet and two inches of man sat alone by the wall, scared to death of his own becoming. A poison so powerful that it could deteriorate all things in him that remained humane. Everert, Everett, Everett you fucking white rabbit, prey to a beast so foul that it would shake him to his core.
“ I wish I were dead. ” Everett’s voice was a low grumble and it was muffled by his hands. But somehow, he felt like it was the first honest truth he had said in a long while. He had thought about it before, the potentials of how easy it would be to just end himself.
Why have someone else do it?
He shouldn’t have called her, he thought to himself. Three clear naked plastic squares sat on the table, innocent to their taker and never bothering to tell him that there was such a thing as too much. Too much to handle, too much to swallow, too much numbness, too much for his tongue, for his heart, too much for Nyx.
Poor Nyx, what did he put her through?
Everett looked up in panic and in hope that she was really here, that she wouldn’t leave like that.
Not like everybody else.
a forceful, angry shove isn’t anything new to nyx. it’s the chosen move of her often times male opponents. you know, in those fights she always causes and initiates. the ones she’s done her best to hold off of for the past few months, but eventually, unfortunately, often break through her weak-skinned resolve. she’s not in control of her body, of her mind, her emotions. those act for her, as if she’s the one that’s just the host, and somebody else is pulling the strings. she’s forced to sit back and take everything in. it sounds plausible, but who else would be in there with her? daphne was straightfoward and grumpy at times, but she wasn’t violent. maybe daph’s just got some sort of hold on her, one to make nyx feel out of the loop, like she’s not making decisions, in hope of it being responsible for her combustion and disappearance. anything is possible. anyone would want to have a girl like nyx out of power. someone so reckless doesn’t deserve to be so close to forces that could end the world. someone that’d live for such chaos, needs to be as far away as possible.
she wonders what it means when they come at her with a push instead of a punch. are they testing the waters? seeing if it’s okay, if she’s serious? but she’s the one who gives the first jab. wouldn’t put her fist to your face unless she was ready to receive it back. of course, they don’t know that. and there’s another option. one that makes her angry at the mere thought. needs to learn that it’s a good thing to be underestimated. her body, her soul have taken a lot of beatings. she won’t be blown away with just one little nudge, won’t fall to pieces. her hard exterior may certainly be masked, she might really be weak underneath, but her pride is stronger. she refuses to crumble. break her fucking legs, and she’ll still give it all she’s got to stand up again. just to take you down. determined. she doesn’t give up easily, doesn’t forget, and certainly doesn’t forgive. nyx has only got to learn to control her fury when it comes to being looked at like she’s the insect. has to hold it together to prove them wrong when it’s the right time to let her teeth show. let that howl of a true wolf break free.
his yell sounds more like a pained yelp. she’s got a hard time trying to figure out the meaning of this. why someone she looks at as different hits her with the same blow as everyone else. him, who is exempt from her torture. her mind-games. not her anger, not her punches, but almost anything else. he’s not just a stranger, an acquaintance. ev is more than that, making him immune until given a reason to be revoked of his justification. one action and a loaded statement later, and he’s quickly starting his descent. she didn’t do a fucking thing for him to push her off like she’s a pile of shit. her unabashed rage has a way of clouding her judgement, mindset, vision -- keeping her from seeing reality from imagination, but she knows this. nyx has done nothing but sit quietly as he slips into the realms that she’s forced to call her home. maybe that’s the problem. hasn’t fought for him, or attempted to drag him out. kick him out even, and close the door, be a good fucking friend. yeah, it’s not a surprise she doesn’t even know how to do that.
if this stupid haze, this dumb fucking fog would just hurry up and pass, she’d be able to see even from a distance that his pupils are dilated. has got such a good connection to him that she shouldn’t even have to look to know that something is seriously wrong. if she was better at scanning her surroundings, she’d find her answer. the cause. but years of always being on the lookout and hardly ever finding anything make her lazy, and she relies on half-assing. on the strength that’s never proved to make any progress before. nyx would see sweat on his face, skin dewy, meanwhile his body wracks with chills. she’d see the insanity take over, what it does to him. she’d see the very same hallucinations he does. unfortunately, she doesn’t need drugs to see her own kind of delusions. they happen naturally, a product of the trauma that’s inflicted on her. her brother has forced his way into her head so fucking good. tearing up everything in his path, rearranging just to drive her nuts, knowing she can’t fix it or replace the damage.
if she had the ability to listen to anything other than the screaming voices in her mind, maybe she’d be able to pick up on everett’s heart-rate. the loud, ferocious pounding that wants to be noticed, the center of attention. instead, nyx misses all of the clues. she just sees a man, her best friend, that knocks her off his lap and tells her to stay back. as if he sees the monster she’s become, too. the first ever person to really get it, to understand, to witness. everyone else treats it like a joke, like she’s crazy, like she’s lying. she doesn’t know whether it’s out of a small fear of scaring him or her stubborn pride that she does as told. just stays put on the floor, sitting back on her knees. responds for the first time in a while at the mention, the wishing, the yearning of death. even if it’s muffled, unable to be heard by any normal person. ❝ yeah, me too. ❞ her tone is almost offended. as if she’s mad at him for not loving her despite her ugly tendencies. as if she’s mad that he can’t give her this when she’s given him more than anyone else.
in this moment, people would probably think it’s their own death she wanted. but it’s not. he should know better, too. nyx is not positive and happy about life. she’s very visibly suicidal. but there’s a big problem that remains, standing like an elephant in the room. still questions she needs answers to. so she gets up. doesn’t come running over to soothe him, wipe away the sweat and hold him close to her chest like she might’ve, but probably wouldn’t have - done before. instead, she stands, looming over him like a dark cloud. on her way, clearly ready to give up and walk out until he comes to his senses. dangerous curiosity holds her back, for now. ❝ what the fuck just happened, ev? tell me what the fuck is going on. i can’t fucking help you unless you give me some explanations. ❞
