A/N: Long chapter ahead. I hope you enjoy.
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Two Days Ago

It had to have been written in the stars that the air would always tighten around them. That conversations would gain weight, and emotions would surface in bubbles.

Such was the curse of Ruhl.

"Does it bother you that I visit him?" His dad asked. "If it does, I'll stop. No questions asked."

"He's your brother. I get it."

"You can tell me, Evaughn. I know it must be... unusual to hear news like that."

"I don't know." He stared blankly at the sushi rolls. "I don't know how to feel. Uh, forget I said anything.

Damien complied quietly. He sidestepped towards a glassware cabinet to retrieve a set of tumblers. He set them down, but didn't let go just yet. "For the record, you should feel exactly how you're feeling."

He looked up, across the counter where Damien's lips pushed together tenderly. Evaughn echoed the gesture.

Soon, the cups were filled with fruit juice, and the pair was seated shoulder to shoulder on their stools as they dug into the food they made together.

Damien broke the silence after some time. "Was Luka alright, after all?"

Evaughn hesitated to lower the tumbler from his lips, wondering whether he should lie or tell the truth. Putting the tumbler down, he settled halfway. "Yeah. He just had an emergency come up."

"A bad emergency?"

Breath held, he shook his head. Dealing with CIAs and things that shouldn't be possible was more than a bad emergency. He reminded himself to text Luka for an update on him and Simone.

An oblivious Damien angled to make eye contact. "Should we invite him to stay here? He's all alone in that house."

"I'll ask him." Evaughn prefaced. He had set his phone down rather far from where they sat, so he tilted over to reach it.

As he was turned and his back facing Damien, a bass shook behind him.

"Evaughn, is that... are you bleeding?"

The boy sat up confused. "What?"

Damien got up immediately, an anxious restlessness to his movements. He wiped his hands on a paper towel, and his neck turned on a swivel. "Most Airbnbs have first-aid kits..."

Meanwhile, Evaughn was realizing that his shirt was a very light blue, and that his recent fight with the king of the jungle might've done more damage than he thought.

Having found the kit, Damien opened it on top of his stool. "Why are you hurt? Did something happen?"

"There was a... a cougar." His words slurred at the end, for he realized what the medical supplies meant—what they required. That is, the exposure of all the vulnerable parts of himself; the splatters that disfigured his skin and told unpleasant stories. He'd be exposed, and vulnerable, and openly disfigured and—

"Actually, I-I'm fine, Dad. You don't need to do that."

"It might get infected."

"I barely feel them. Seriously."

Eyes the reverse of crescents searched for reason. When they found it, they softened. "I know you have scars."

He looked aside. That was even worse.

"I'll close my eyes if it helps."

Evaughn's response was seconds away. "O-okay." He bunched the hem of his shirt, hands inching their way up slower than snails would. As promised, Damien lowered his eyelids.

"Is this the solution?" Damien asked, his palm draped over a bottle in the tool kit. Evaughn hummed a yes. "So... a cougar?"

"Y-Yeah," Evaughn looked at the space on his lap where he held his bunched up shirt. He craned his neck and saw that Damien's eyes were still closed. With that, Evaughn pushed out a relieved breath of air.

"Are there many of those around here?" Damien asked, moving to stand behind him. He pressed cotton balls against his skin to soak the blood up.

"In the forest, yeah."

"That must've been scary."

"A little."

"That reminds me of the time I nearly fell into the tiger's den at the zoo, once, to snap a photo of them. I wasn't even scared, I was thinking about how good the shot was," he laughed.

Evaughn chuckled along with him. He had already forgotten that he was a canvas of bruises.

"Can you give me the antiseptic?"

He did so, and Damien sprayed just below his shoulder. At the sensation, Evaughn twitched instinctively.

Damien exhaled, and it sounded nervous. He pressed a cotton ball against the area. "Did I hurt you?"

"No," he answered, honestly. "Just stings."

After some time, Damien applied more of the solution. A few sprays into it, Evaughn's body couldn't help another jolt. Again, there was the immediate press of cotton onto his skin, a shaky breath let out to follow. "I-I'm so sorry."

"Hm?"

For a long moment, there was nothing. Evaughn turned sideways, brows furrowed as he tried to figure out where his dad had gone.

Damien was there physically, but he was unmoving, even with his eyelids still closed. And his hands... They were lifted and they curved inward a bit, as if... as if to hold a steering wheel.

        He was seven weeks old.

                                              We got hit by a truck.

                       I was driving.

Evaughn murmured a call for him, too soft for even himself to hear. Thankfully, Damien shook himself away from the car, never breaking his promise to keep his eyes closed.

"D-dad. . .," he repeated. "Are you. . .?"

"I'm alright. Don't ever worry about me," he smiled.

"Okay." It's hard not to.

They moved on to the bandages quickly afterwards. Damien was being more careful than necessary again.

"Evaughn."

"Hm?"

"We should give therapy a try."

It was hesitant, but he hummed in agreement. Curses like theirs didn't go away on their own.

"Okay." Damien stuck on a final band-aid, and pressed the ends with his thumbs. "We're done," he announced.

That was Evaughn's cue to hastily slip his shirt back on, even though it was all bloodied. "You can look now."

Damien gave it three seconds before he unpeeled his lids. The first thing he did was search through the box of ointments. "Don't run the water too hot when you shower—it'll hurt. And when you're done, we'll need to apply... this. Sound good?"

Evaughn's mouth was slightly ajar. Had he been worried for nothing?

~

As he stared at his cellphone, Evaughn's leg vibrated on the floor impatiently. Damien had just left after applying some cream to his cuts (he had to close his eyes once again).

His two messages to Luka—How'd it go, followed by Come to my house if you need—remained unanswered.

Evaughn leaned back on his chair and looked at the ceiling. The act made his hair hang over, damp from his recent shower. "Damn it," he whispered for the third time.

Ding.

A hitch in his breath, Evaughn sat upright, read the text on the screen, and moments later, he was on the main floor, pushing the door open to a pair of greens dimmed by the glasses framing them.

Luka's car was parked behind him, and he had changed into a tee and shorts.

"Can I—"

"Obviously." He gestured with the door.

As Luka entered, Evaughn scanned the street before closing the door. "So?" he asked, turning to find his friend standing awkwardly by the coffee table. "How'd it go?"

"I'm guessing you haven't seen the news."

Taking the hint, Evaughn went for the remote. Soon the TV was on, screening a pre-recorded reporting that he watched with a gap between his lips.

"What the hell. You found a bunch of lost children?" Evaughn turned to the boy in question who was now seated on the couch. For some reason, his hands were wrapped tightly around his stomach. Evaughn shut off the television. "Luka?"

He breathed hoarsely. "D'you have water?"

"Uh—yeah, hold on. There's leftover dinner, too."

"No, I. I'm not hungry."

"It's not a big deal. I made a lot of sushi rolls."

His reaction—a subtly hurl of his shoulders—seemed to be triggered by the last two words. "No. I-I don't want food. Please, just." He looked up. "Just get me a water."

He complied, but not without furrowed brows. Having grabbed the bottle, he went back to set it before the one who was so clearly starving. Luka chugged it all, his Adam's apple bobbing as he did.

Evaughn stood in confusion.

"Thanks, Vaughn," he placed an empty bottle down.

"Why are you starving yourself?"

"I'm not." He stuttered. "Why would I do that?"

"You tell me."

Luka parted his lips for what he hoped was an explanation. But it remained on his tongue; they both turned towards the sudden illumination of the kitchen.

"I thought I heard the TV earlier," enter a deeper voice that neared them. "Oh—is that you, Luka?"

"Yeah," he chuckled, standing. He shook Damien's hand when they were close enough. "I'm sorry for intruding. I hope it's not trouble."

"No, not at all. I'm glad you're here; it beats being in an empty house."

Damien and Luka's conversation faded as Evaughn studied the way the latter hid his hunger. The curve to his back, the strain in his voice, the periodic clench of his stomach.

A hand on his shoulder—from his dad bidding him goodbye—made him blink.

Evaughn squinted at Luka.

Luka pushed his glasses back. The act distorted green. "I'm allergic to sushi."

"We don't just have sushi."

"I'm okay, Vaughn." Luka elongated the words as he walked past him. "I ate at home; my mom prepped meals I just have to heat up. So, let it go. I want to see your room, already."

Evaughn sighed. He grabbed the empty plastic bottle to throw out, and made a quick detour into the kitchen to grab another.

In moments, Evaughn was sitting on his bed, facing Luka who made himself comfortable on the swivel chair. He was rotating on it, paging The Ruhl Book.

"What about Simone?"

"She's alright."

He waited for more.

"And she hates me."

"...What did you do?"

Luka set the photo album down and caught his eyes. "I hurt her. I promise I didn't mean to, but... if you want to kick me out now, I'll get it. I'm the worst kind of guy, making girls cry."

Evaughn sighed. "I'm not kicking you out. But, should we make a plan about the CIA?"

He shook his head. "No need. They're done messing with me, since I... saved those kids, remember?"

"Oh yeah... that happened." He leaned forward. "I feel like there's more there."

Luka gazed downward. "Even if I could tell you anything, I wouldn't... want to... Sorry I can't say more."

"You don't need to. I'm glad you're alright."

Luka basked in the response while Evaughn got up and began creating a sleeping mat for himself on the floor out of an extra comforter folded in half, and a bedsheet. Then he went to tie his hair.

"I hope you're not lying about starving yourself," he made the last loop of the elastic before glancing towards the desk.

"I'm not."

"Okay," he gave in, turning the light off so it was completely dark. The moon was angled away from his window.

There was a soft plop on the mattress, and then the sheets were ruffling. "You're not going to sleep well. On the floor like that. There's enough space up here."

"It's fine."

"I feel bad."

"Well, that's for you to figure out." Evaughn laid on the make-shift mattress, positioned right beside the bed.

There was a soft chuckle, and then Luka drifted away with a drowsy, "Night, Evaughn."

And the long haired boy, well, tried to do that.

Evaughn awoke barely two hours later to the sound of sleep-filled laughter. If he were honest, he'd call it sinister.

"Luka?"

The room was already bathing in darkness, so a line of shivers was sent down his back when Luka laughed again. Each chuckle was punctuated by a sharp, mocking edge. Like he was laughing at someone.

Evaughn pulled his blanket over himself and muttered, "D-damn it, Luka. At least sleep-talk like a normal person."

"Look at me."

"H-huh?" The blanket came down slowly. Evaughn snapped his eyes upward, expecting to see Luka awake and ready to tell him this was one of his stupid jokes.

Instead, he let out that uncanny melody again.

Evaughn rolled to his side and tried to ignore it, but he couldn't. Especially not with what followed.

"Want to watch you die."

***

Next Day

In the background, Evaughn listened to his friend be interviewed. The story—that he was taking a walk to clear his head and came across an abandoned van with missing children in it. It wasn't hard to believe.

Whatever the actual truth was, though, he just hoped it didn't have to do with watching people die.

It was pure chaos outside their high school that afternoon, the Richmond's logo stamped on at least eighty different blazers crowding Luka.

"You see it too, right?"

Evaughn flinched a bit. Somehow, Kayin was standing by his shoulder. "See what?"

"They're all so fake, switching up because they want in on the fame, or whatever," she snorted. "It's kind of pathetic."

"It doesn't look like he minds it."

"True. At least this means things'll go back to normal, again."

Evaughn tipped his head. The reporter was closing the mic in on Luka, eagerly. "... even stated they wanted you to, you know, to end your life. How did that feel? Is it possible you went on that walk... maybe to contemplate that?"

Evaughn was there before he knew it, hand on Luka's shoulder to steer him away.

"You don't have to answer that."

"I—Thanks."

When they turned around, a new face had joined. Dimples formed— "Hey, Vaughn,"—then faded. "Hi, Luka."

"Iris," replied green. "Hi."

"You were right," she looked at the reporters who were now asking the students questions about Luka. "I was worried about nothing, after all."

He chuckled quietly. "Thank you for worrying about me, anyway."

They nodded to each other. "Well, I'll see you guys later," she said while going off with Kayin, who waved them farewell.

Evaughn waited until they left. "Did you two... break up?"

"Like eons ago."

"Oh... Do you want to talk about it?"

He shook his head. "She said it, and I agree; she deserves better."

They trekked a short path to the bike rack. "What the hell were you dreaming last night?"

"What?"

"You talk in your sleep."

"I do? No way. I didn't know that," He quieted. "It's weird; I'm home alone all the time so I should be used to it but. I don't know. I didn't want to be home last night. I'm sorry you couldn't sleep because of me."

"It's no big deal." I'm used to it. "You can come over, anytime."

"Yeah? What was I saying, anyway?"

Evaughn looked at him and shook his head. "Something about aliens."

"Hah. Sounds like me."

***

She hates me. I didn't mean to, but I hurt her.

Evaughn replayed Luka's confession as his feet moved in circles over pedals. He brought his bike to a stop by the playground; it's the only place he could think to find her.

At four in the afternoon, it was more than lively. Evaughn set his bike beside a tree and grabbed his school bag on his walk through all the giggles, the runners, and the acrobats, all characterized by little feet.

He nearly ran into a child just in front of him. "Woah," he exclaimed to the small boy, his arm extended on reflex to catch him by the shoulder.

"Saylor." He smiled. That means she might be here. "We meet again."

"Mister." A different boy came to stand by Saylor's side—notably older, with a unique patch of white hair amidst his dark, coarse hair. "You almost made him fall. He's a baby, so you have to watch where you're going."

Taken aback, Evaughn chuckled. He sunk to their level, and spoke sincerely. "I'm really sorry, Saylor. I hope you forgive me."

Saylor's friend placed a hand over his ear and whispered. He came up seconds after. "Okay, Mister. We have decided to... call a truce! We forgive you. Now, come on, Say, let's go find Mo!"

"I want play! I want play!"

"W-wait. Could that be... Simone?" He stopped the older one.

"Yeah. She's my sister. Why?"

"Can you show me where she is? I'd like to talk to her."

The kid pushed his head forward and squinted. "You're not from our foster home," he said with a matter-of-fact tone.

"Foster home?"

Saylor was stomping on the mulch.

"Yeah. Mo and I live in a foster home with other kids. I've never seen you there, or at this playground. So, who are you?"

Evaughn rubbed his nape. "If she sees me, I'm sure she'll recognize me."

"Hmm. I have decided to... refuse your demand. Mo has a contagious disease. No one can touch her."

"H-Huh?"

"Atlas, what are you up to?"

The two lifted their heads at who joined.

"Mo! I'm just telling him he shouldn't touch you, or else you'll get sad."

Simone sighed. "I see. You're just trying to help, huh? Well, thank you, Attie. I got it from here, so go play with Saylor."

"Aye, aye!"

Evaughn stood from his squat at last. They looked at each other for some time before he spoke. "Was that your little brother?"

"Yes. And?"

"I asked him about you. I-I just want to know if you're okay, because, well, Luka told me he hurt you."

"He apologized," she squared a shoulder. "There's nothing more he can do. Actually, it's my fault for trusting a stranger."

Evaughn nodded slowly. "Oh. I see." He searched her covered arms for any hint of bruises.

"It's not a physical type of hurt." She had leaned over to catch his drifting eyes, and straightened with a dip in her hip. Confusion shaped her eyes into slits. "You don't know me enough to worry about me."

"I can't help it. Worrying," He admitted, tightening his lips out of nervousness.

He felt her gaze study him. When she made a conclusion, she stepped close enough to paint his cheeks. "Well, do you care enough to help me?"

"I... y-yes. I do."

"Do you care enough to... touch me?"

~

"Exposure therapy?"

"I read about it in some textbook. Apparently, therapists use it to help people get through PTSD, and other stuff."

They were seated on grass away from the crowd. Evaughn had his back to a thick tree. Simone was in front of him, sitting on her folded legs.

"You have PTSD?"

"I... I don't know. I haven't seen a doctor about it. I've just... It's been like this for a week now. Whenever someone touches my skin, I go crazy. I'll be stuck like this forever if I don't do something about it."

"What happened?"

She held onto her lower lip.

"You might feel better if you tell me."

"Right," she sighed. "I really hate being vulnerable, but the textbook said it helps, too. I need to get rid of whatever this is, so. Guess I can't complain." She inhaled, and Evaughn caught every word she let out. "My brother was... kidnapped. I followed the car into some sketchy place. When I tried to hide, I... fell into a hole behind a door. It was dark in there. And. Cold. And it reeked."

She shut her eyes. "When I came to, I realized I was... laying on top of dead bodies." She'd whispered the last bit. "Before I knew it, more were thrown in. I was buried underneath it all for... for hours." She swallowed a lump. "I-I swear I lost my mind. Dried up hands on-on my face, and everything. Now, just being touched disgusts me."

Evaughn had yet to blink. "I can't even imagine that."

"Don't try to."

"I'm sorry that happened, Simone."

She lifted a side of her mouth. "I'll take these off. Just hold my arms. I think that'll be more than enough."

"Okay." He said as she pulled her sleeves off.

Soon, she was extending her arm towards him. "Alright."

Evaughn lifted his hand. He looked into her eyes for confirmation, but they were shut tight. Just for a trail run, he let the tip of a thumb touch her skin.

Simone squirmed with her entire body. "Sh-shit."

He pulled his hand away.

She opened her eyes as if coming from a fever dream. "What?"

"You're crying already." Evaughn mentioned as he opened his uniform blazer, and set it aside. Then, he tugged his tie down and started undoing the buttons on his shirt.

She wiped the tear away. "Why are you undressing?"

"You said you hate being vulnerable. So, I'll be vulnerable, first.

An eye for an eye."

"A..." Simone stopped herself to laugh. "I don't think that's what that means."

He smiled. "We'll give it a new meaning."

Simone remained quiet until his shirt was undone. Evaughn kept it on as he explained.

"I have scars on my back. I've never shown anyone willingly—not even my dad. So, I hope this helps." He got ready to twist, but was stopped.

"Wait, you don't have to do this for me," she waved her arms. "If you don't actually want to—"

"I want to." He offered the words genuinely, wrapped in silk.

Simone caught his sincerity, and returned a quiet, "Okay."

Evaughn turned towards the tree and took his shirt in a bunch, holding it to one side as he did the very thing he swore he wouldn't ever do. He controlled his breathing as he exposed his back as a canvas of all things ugly. It reminded him of who the painter was, and always would be.

"Oh, Vaughn."

He let his shirt down and turned back around. "That felt terrible. But. I'm sure it adds up somehow. I'm sure we're getting closer."

"We have to be," Simone inhaled shakily. "Thank you for showing me. I'm ready, now."

"Okay."

This time, she let her arms stay at her side.

Evaughn felt his a rush of blood pool in his stomach as he took both of her hands in his. He felt them twitch, so he stayed like that until her body unclenched. He kept one hand there while letting the other slide up to her bicep.

She scrunched her mouth at this, so he drew circles over her hand. "You're doing good, Simone."

Evaughn rose to stand on his knees so he towered her a bit. Admittedly, all noise and chaos in the background sank even farther backstage. He draped a hand on her cheek, and wiped away a fallen tear.

She opened her eyes. Found his.

Admittedly, it made the creature in Evaughn's chest pound on his walls when a delicate set of fingers made way to cup his jaw. She pulled him closer.

"A-Are you sure?"

"Yeah." She breathed. "An eye for an eye, right?"

His chuckle was full of air. And all air was taken from him once they touched. Snake-like, her hand wrapped behind his neck. Behind closed eyelids, he felt the hitched breath she made against his lips.

She pulled away first.

He let go, and darted worried eyes around her face. "D-did I go too far?"

"No. I think you healed me, Evaughn."

He smiled, then squinted. "Did you always know my full name?"

"It's on your school bag," she tipped her head to the area beside him. "It's a nice name."

His lips rose. "Thanks."

She swept a chunk of braided hair behind her ears and looked at the ground. "You should get dressed."

"Right," he said as his fingers got to work on the buttons.

Simone stood up. Evaughn was tightening his tie when the noise behind them returned. In fact, he swore it was getting louder. That is, in the form of two pairs of giggles and footsteps.

"Mo! You were here all the time? We were looking for you." Atlas and his white patch popped into his line of vision. "Oh, Mister! You're here too?"

"Hi, again."

"I want piggy! I want piggy!"

Atlas crossed his arms at his little friend. "No, Saylor! You can't touch Mo! She doesn't like it."

"It's okay, Attie," Simone said, lifting the youngest up from his armpits and placing him over her shoulders. "I don't hate it anymore."

Atlas gasped. His eyes glossed over before he wrapped his arms around her leg. Simone looked at her brother with gentleness, and then at Evaughn. "Thank you," she mouthed to him.

He stood with his school bag and blazer in his hand. "I'm happy I helped."

"Me, too. With your scars."

"If you ever need to trade an eye for an eye again, let me know."

"Okay. I'll be here."

He raised a hand. "I'll see you later, Simone."

***

Evaughn didn't expect more butterflies in his stomach, nor to be sprung back to the day someone died in his arms.

"Were you always this pretty?"

"I hope we meet again."

He relived those moments in the same breath that he told the detective about it. Even after resuming pushing his bike to his house, he was still inside that distant memory.

He halted abruptly.

There was a square piece of paper floating in circles in the wind. Except there was no wind.

It landed by his foot. Evaughn furrowed his brows. He looked at the sky for answers, but it was clear as day, no sign of a high rise building or a passing airplane. Curiously, he picked it up.

Perhaps doing so was a mistake.

Abandon me, and I kill that girl.

I love you, Evaughn.

I can't wait to see you again.

This... this had to be some kind of a sick joke.