[I have my fckn,, AP environmental science test today & I was on lockdown for the last week bc I wanted to do good bc I got a 88.5% on the final and I had to prove myself for the credit test so that's it I'm back bc it's in 5 hours and I think I'll be okay
So sorry for no updates it's been like 2 weeks :')]

There was a certain quality I missed about living in California and Oregon. I never could pinpoint it until recently, but after so many years I'd figured it out.

I missed the privacy of it all. Though nobody ever asked or gave any thought to what I was doing most of the time in New York, I felt exposed, as if someone was watching my every move. As the irrational fear buried itself deeper, I felt myself losing a grip on my own mind sometimes. I'd talk to myself about the past few weeks, watch shadows on the windows, and every now and then, the figures trapped behind the wallpaper would move.

The other book didn't last long. The plot was lame, but the characters were fantastic. They had depth and dimension, and if the main character hadn't mirrored the anxiety and sadness pooling inside myself, I may have reused them for another scenario. They all suffered at the invention of one, and for that I felt a bit of remorse, but not much. They were only fiction, after all, merely figment of my own imagination.

The other night, I went into the city in the wild idea that my mind would clear up and I could return to writing another hopeless story in the dark corner of my room. You see, nowadays I usually find myself among strangers because I drift here and there, trying to forget everything that happened to me. That night was no different, but I did see Ryan out with Taylor. The glow on their faces was a pain in my head, and it only reminded me what I'd done the other day to my cousin's life. Sure, he and my neighbor were happy, but it couldn't last long. Nothing gold could ever stay.

On the third day after I'd reunited my neighbor and cousin, I noticed a lack of people bustling about the property next door. Usually, the snip of hedge clippers and obnoxious communication filled the silence throughout the day, but I heard nothing. It was unsettling.

When I went to go check if everything was still in order, I ran into Dallon, standing at the front gates of his home.

"The sun's about to set," he frowned, but waved a pleasant greeting all the same, "what're you doing out now?"

I could have very well reciprocated the question, but I had other things passing through my mind. "Where is the staff? There's none of the usual noise outside that keeps me sane. Are they all taking advantage of your kindness for a few days of leisure?"

He smiled, concerned. I sounded crazy. "I fired them all two days ago. I thought you heard? Word travels quick in the papers."

"I've never had the fortune of constantly being kept in the now, or the luxury of affording the newspaper every so often. Why? Why did you fire them all? Nothing will ever get done around here, your lawn will turn into a jungle, and the shrubs will morph back into ugly masses. What happened to perfection?"

"They're all absolutely rotten at keeping secrets, John," he held his head high, taking a few steps back from the gate as the last bit of sun disappeared, "I can't have that around, now can I? New people that can keep their trap shut are coming around soon. I've already hired them."

"Are they from around here?"

"No," he shook his head, almost shamefully, "they're acquaintances. In the business, but they also live far outside of the city, you know? Wentz thought it would be a grand idea to be surrounded with people of similar occupations. It was my idea to employ some from out of town."

I nodded. "Wentz — he's a strange man, you know. He seems preoccupied."

"He is. He has a family to look after in the city. It's a dangerous line of work," the faint noise of a telephone echoed from his home, "and it never sleeps. I'll speak with you later, John, hopefully for a longer stretch of time."

As he left and I wandered back to my bedroom, I watched the porch light flicker off, and within seconds the clash of two loud and familiar voices in the tower closest to my house.

It was another secret I had been trusted with, as was the amount of times I watched my cousins car drive away in the early morning.

꧁꧂

The days only seemed to be getting hotter. It was to be expected, of course, in the middle of summer. That was when the temperatures spiked and the need for a pool was more intense than ever before. I could remember begging my mother to visit my cousin, because he had a pool and the waterfall made of rocks that you could do flips off. Sometimes, things never changed.

The summer was too hot, though, specifically that time around. Maybe it was the nightmares and anxious thoughts besting me, but I constantly woke up in a puddle of sweat in the middle of the night. It very well might've been the upset dragging down my conscience, but I passed it off as the heat to fool myself.

My neighbor's house had always been packed with anything and everything to cool down during the day. I hadn't visited recently, but the few times I did, it was a blessing. I had barely heard from him or my cousin since the reunion I'd hosted almost weeks ago.

Nevertheless, the front gates were wide open, and free of rust. So, I entered there and through the massive front door, which took nearly all my strength and seven minutes to pry open with my own sweaty paws.

In the middle of the room with the organ, I found Dallon, standing with Ryan, and three other people. They were all dressed to the nines, again, leaving me the odd one out.

"... in fact, there he is now," Dallon caught sight of me out of the corner of his eye, and brought all attention to me when he waved, "it's nice to see you, John! We were just speaking about you. You are a writer, aren't you?" His enthusiasm was suffocating, seeming to drag down the other guests as well as myself. However, his hand was shaking, and I could've sworn on seeing fear and nervousness in his eyes.

"It's a pleasure, I guess." The only woman in the room huffed, without turning so I could see her face. She sounded bored, exhausted.

None of his guests seemed to be excited about being in either of our presence. Even after introducing me and rambling for a while about nothing important, all four simply nodded and muttered incoherently along to whatever he said. To an extent, even I quit listening for a bit.

The woman — I'd learned her name was Jenna — suppressed a snicker and shared peculiar looks with the others. Her dress coordinated with the color of her husband's tie.

"We were going for a drive and thought we'd stop by." Ryan said. He turned to his friend Josh, and shrugged.

"Wanted to see what all the fuss was about," Jenna gestured to the house, ring on his finger sparkling in the light, "I've heard about this place, but I never thought it was actually real."

"It is real. I don't see why it wouldn't be." There were only two people in the room that would protest against booting me off the nearest balcony, and the other three might as well have been the boot. The boots glared daggers.

I ached for the comfort of another person to be beside me in that moment. I was far from the loneliest person in the room, but simultaneously the only one without any romantic interest in close proximity. Really, it was quite concerning. I felt my fingers twitch as if somebody was touching my hand, but it was nothing but a gust of the wind from an open window nearby.

"I know Brendon," my neighbor blurted out suddenly and without warning, unable to backpedal on his words as they'd grabbed everyone's attention by the tongue, "Er — your partner. Ryan." The drink in his hand started to quiver.

Ryan frowned. I prayed he hadn't made any sort of connection between the two of them yet. "Oh really? How? I've never heard your name in the conversation before."

There was a significant shift in the mood of the room. It hadn't taken long for the other guests to come to the realization that there was something unspoken lingering on the top of Dallon's tongue, and a secret hidden on Ryan's in plain sight.

"We met only recently," he rocked back and forth on his heels rigidly, "and fairly infrequently from then on."

The infrequency of their meetings was a blatant lie to anybody that knew the truth was within arms reach. He didn't even falter on his words once they were out.

My neighbor had a strong grip on the drink in his hand. His knuckles were turning a pale white, and I was afraid the glass would shatter if nobody spoke up quickly.

Ryan was skeptical. "Is that so? How did you meet him? He's never really been a fan of new people and—"

"Dallon is hosting another party this weekend," I blurted out of the want to avoid any more secondhand embarrassment from the conversation, "why don't you bring Brendon, Ryan? Your friends can come too, if they'd like, there's plenty of space I'm sure."

It was so quiet, the birds chirping from the overgrown trees echoed through the room, and the slightest burst of wind sounded like the notes of the organ lingering from nights long gone.

"There is really nothing better for me to do this weekend besides wallow in silence," Jenna finally spoke up, and her husband appeared to be taken aback at her comment, "I suppose I'll attend."

"I will as well."

"Same goes for me."

All heads turned to Ryan. It was fairly obvious nobody in the room wanted the invitation, judging from their shared looks and body language, but they'd all promised their presence.

He muttered a low agreement after another moment in suffocating silence.

[This chapter was short and I hate it]