ραят ι: fяαgιℓιту

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"It's no tragedy, Freckles. Glass breaks so easily. No matter how careful you are."

Tennessee Williams, The Glass Menagerie

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These days it feels like my words (and my strength, and my composure, and my ability to string thoughts together coherently) just completely disappear when I'm around you. I open my mouth and there's only a void, so I try to forget about it. I keep putting it off til "later", and then I can't help getting angrier and angrier with myself as each uneventful day passes. I don't know if you really understand what it's like to be angry all the time without letting it show, to feel trapped and silenced by the fear of hurting everyone around you. Well, I can tell you: It's absolutely exhausting.

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The sun's reflection off the windshield of the Chevy was dancing, tracing a lingering ultraviolet squiggly line around Evan's entire field of vision, searing into his retinas. Despite the burn, he could still make Trevor Chase out in his rear-view mirror, his bare shoulders slumped in defeat, tired legs slowly dragging him back towards the little car. Sure, he was getting progressively smaller and smaller, but he was still there. Evan could still breathe.

A deep pothole suddenly shook the world around him, causing the tiny luminescent speck to dart up and out of his field of vision for a second, but he found it - found him - again easily enough with the levelling-out of the road.

It seemed physically impossible for Evan to release Trevor from his sight, especially after looking into his eyes not two minutes ago and being forced to acknowledge the hurt that he himself had caused. Because Evan was causing him pain, and that should've been reason enough to take a step back and consider leaving Trevor for his sake, but he just... couldn't, and he wasn't eager to consider the reason behind this unfounded determination.

So it was with extreme reluctance that Evan glanced at the road ahead for a millisecond - just to make sure that his name wasn't about to end up on tomorrow's front page along with the words "headlong", "tragic", and "toxicology report pending"- before quickly relocating the mirror.

He panicked for a moment; Trevor had disappeared... sort of. The little red car was still sitting motionless on the shoulder, and he was sure he could see the vague outline of a dark figure inside. This arrangement was sort of perfect in a way, because his face - the one part of him that Evan really didn't need to see right now - was completely unreadable behind its reflective glass shield.

This feeling of grounded calm, however, wasn't to last long. The highway began to gradually bend enough to warrant Evan's full attention on the dotted yellow line that separated him from potential disaster, and this time when he looked back he could only see the trees lining the pavement, menacing in their solidarity like so many vague, shadowy sentinels of the road.

He almost immediately collapsed into tears. Almost. It was as if his sanity was attached to Trevor and the tether had finally reached its snapping point. His breath hovered somewhere between his throat and his lungs, unable to either advance or retreat.

Trevor's words from a few moments ago gathered and built and rearranged themselves until it began to feel like they were assaulting Evan's memory, intensifying by the second. They swept through his mind like a rake passing through smooth, levelled sand, unsettling all other lingering thoughts as they passed...

Look... into your future... Do you honestly see this working? You, me, and him?

It suddenly struck Evan harder than the head-on semi he'd been dreading a moment ago...

Oh God... what if his answer is no?

What if Evan had actually made a decision without having said a thing?

He looked back again, then straight ahead - only now without sight. His vision was swimming, blank, smudged; it was miles and miles and miles of farther and farther away. And it wasn't just the road that was gone now, but everything... all of the things that had once anchored him. He couldn't decide if he was supposed to feel thrilled or terrified. He couldn't decide if he was free, or completely paralysed.

Then the promise - Evan's promise - gripped and steadied Evan and tore him out of the imaginary wreckage, away from the screaming in his head that he hadn't even noticed until it was gone.

I'll see you tomorrow.

He felt the ghost of Trevor's hand gently, timidly squeezing his arm, his knuckles warm under Evan's own steady palm, and everything rushed back.

Evan drew in a desperate breath, and his future reappeared along with the road, straight and unclouded and beckoning. His right foot pressed harder against the gas pedal, propelling him forward - eastward - with greater and greater speed, and Evan grasped at the promise like a lifeline as he left Trevor Chase in his dust.

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Even as I sit here in the dark with my bag packed and my shoes on, I'm second-guessing every single thought that passes through my mind. I wonder if I'm just being horribly, greedily selfish? My mother used to tell me that life was about give and take, that I would have to relinquish certain things - important things - in order to make someone else happy one day. I know she was talking about compromise, but at what point is it considered prudent to step back and see if the benefits outweigh the losses? It seems to me that the moment of truth comes in finding the line that separates compromise from self-sacrifice, and then asking yourself:

What side do I really want to be on?

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The next day:

Trevor wasn't home. Something about "work," Will Chase - Trevor's father - had told Evan, his eyes detached, cool, unable to linger on his face. Instead they hovered rather unapologetically just over his shoulder, apparently fascinated by the sky, or at least one of its inhabitants.

"When will he be back?" Evan asked innocently. "It's just that... he told me yesterday to come by today, so..."

"Late..." Will said, his voice firm and abrupt like the chopping of a knife, eyes finally moving to meet his. "I think he said he'd be back later..." He stopped for a second to check his watch unnecessarily, then waved his hand with casual disregard. "I mean late, later."

"Oh... okay." Evan stepped back, nodding his head gently as he lowered himself down the porch steps. "Will you tell him I'll--" but when he glanced back, his unspoken pledge to return was met only by the dull click of the door against its frame.

He did come back the next day, though, this time to be greeted with an indifferent "He's out again".

Then the next day - Thursday - it was, "Out. Overtime", and then on Friday, "You know how it is, Evan..."

Four days passed without a single breath of news from - or about - Trevor, and he retreated reluctantly each time, back to Ryan and the comfort only he could provide, though he did so unwittingly. Evan knew that he should've been relieved, that he should've been grateful to Trevor for taking away his options... because while this decision that he'd clearly made on Evan's behalf left behind an ache that wasn't easy to ignore, it also made things extremely simple. It renewed his focus.

For four days he pleaded with Ryan, the same demand, but now with unparalleled intensity. Please. I'm ready. I want to be with you forever...

And Ryan (of course) being Ryan, took this the wrong way. He took it quite literally, which was why Evan secretly wanted to berate him when he pulled out the ring: Even at this, what should've been their most romantic moment, they couldn't see eye to eye... and it wasn't just because he was literally standing up while Ryan was literally kneeling down.

He wanted to frantically nudge Ryan's leg with his foot, to whip his head around and scan the room, hoping to find no witnesses. He wanted to yank on his arm and hiss at him to get up and stop being so ridiculous.

But instead he just let the solitary word fall out of him, hoarse and affected and nothing at all like it sounded in the movies when those girls - the ones with tears in their eyes - smiled and laughed and actually meant it. He wasn't even sure which word he actually said until he noticed Ryan standing in front of him, until he saw the triumphant, relieved look on his face.

Ryan Purcell slid Avianne & Co. diamond onto Evan's trembling finger, and in that moment his future - everything that he would ever have, or be, or want, or do, or love - became so unbelievably clear that it disappeared right in front of his eyes.

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You'd think, since I'm writing this (and I guess that means I'm serious), that I'd have some sort of plan laid out... that I'd know where this path that I've chosen will lead me, but I don't. All I know is what I feel, and explaining these feelings is nearly impossible, especially when all of this seems completely stupid and irrational. How can I explain insanity? How can I justify running away, leaving behind all these things that are supposed to define me? It's scary, the idea of starting from scratch, of turning my back on this secure, stable life we have together, but you know I've never once asked for security. I've never envied those who claim to know what the future holds.

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"Irene is going to absolutely lose her mind... you do realize this, right?" Ryan half-murmured, half-whispered into Evan's ear. He shuddered, filling his darkened room with the sound of rustling sheets.

Evan was aware that he was trying to be funny, but he couldn't bring himself to laugh. Instead he attempted a light-hearted smile, achieved only a grimace. He was glad Ryan was behind him, and therefore couldn't actually see his face. "Mrs. Purcell is, well, a mom. She's bound to freak out. Didn't you tell her already?" He reasoned, trying again to force a giggle, and failing.

Ryan hummed a low note against the back of his neck, so full of happiness that he could almost picture legions of jealous girls, or guys for that matter, country-wide turning up their noses in disgust. "She knows that I'd planned on asking you, but... well, she didn't know if you'd say yes."

"Not until we told her," Evan clarified, mumbling robotically into his pillow, still hoping that Ryan couldn't detect any bitterness in his words.

"Exactly. Well, too bad for Irene that she opted to go with Uncle Lewis and Aunt Tess. She's going to be livid that she missed this just for a road trip."

"Hmmm..." Evan answered with a sort-of guttural purr, deciding to just leave it at that.

Staring straight ahead at his bookshelf, he tried to shake the feeling that he was suffocating beneath the arm draped over his side, which was feeling heavier and heavier by the second. He tried to divert his panicky thoughts by focusing on his breathing. At first, he could time himself. He would mentally count for two minutes, trying to draw the seconds out before he exchanged one breath for another. Eventually, as this religious exercise took possession of his mind the seconds become shorter; he was counting faster and faster, and found himself inhaling deeper after each release, as though every breath he took from now had to be fought for.

He almost jumped when Ryan tilted his mouth back towards his ear and spoke in a tone that was about as close to giddy as he could possibly get. "This is the happiest day of my torturously long life." The announcement faded out into amused laughter, proving that he was at least capable of acknowledging his own ludicrous hyperbole.

But again, Evan couldn't laugh with him; instead he released another slightly muted "hmmm", hoped it came out sounding more agreeable than it felt.

Ryan lowered his voice to a whisper, pressed his lips against the skin at the ridge of Evan's jawbone, and spoke again, this time with the utmost sincerity, "Do you know how long I've waited for you?" His cool breath grazed past Evan's earlobe. "How long I've waited for this?"

Evan turned onto his back, allowing Ryan to see his face but keeping his eyes trained on the ceiling. "So why must we both wait a little longer?" Evan said, trying not to sound too whiny. "Why can't we just get m...now..." But he couldn't finish the sentence, the remaining syllables having already been swallowed.

"Evan..." Ryan sat up, placing his callused fingers on Evan's arm, awakening thousands upon thousands of goosebumps. "Why does it matter so much to you?"

"Because..."

It was all Evan could come up with.

"What's the difference?" Ryan proceeded convincingly, "This... what we feel for each other now... it's not going to change any time soon, or ever. Whether we get married today, or next month, or six years from now, it's still just you and me. I just want to hear you promise yourself to me while you still have a choice. It's important to me, Evan..."

Evan wanted to roll his eyes and tell Ryan the same thing that he'd repeatedly told Trevor in so many different words: Oh, please Ryan. You know I don't have a choice. I need to be with you. There is no other option...

Yes, he wanted to roll his eyes and laugh it off, but instead he settled on almost choking on his own saliva. He felt a light sheen of sweat starting to build on his forehead.

"Ryan?" He mumbled.

"Yes, Evan?" He felt Ryan's hand move to his waist. It didn't feel warm this time; the blankets provided a barrier between them, but it was firm, steady, and, in some strange way, almost desperate.

Evan panicked for a second; could Ryan actually hear the screaming, the voicing of a final decision in the back of his mind, even if Evan wasn't sure he himself could?

Impossible. Ryan couldn't possibly read minds.

Evan took a deep breath. "I think I just..." He paused, but refused to let himself think about it. He just breathed out and allowed the words to fall into place, "...need to be alone tonight."

Evan felt Ryan's body weight shift, but he'd already turned his back on him again, so he couldn't tell if Ryan was sitting up or not. "Of course", Ryan soft velvety voice assured him... naturally. "Whatever you need, my love."

Ryan's hand pressed down slightly harder in that second, and Evan felt the overwhelming urge to take back what he'd just said, to ask him to stay, because he knew that Ryan would make good on his promise to love him forever, just like he always said he would. Ryan's nature, his being, his devotion to Evan ensured that he would never intentionally hurt him, would never leave him, would do everything in his power for the rest of both of their lives to make sure that Evan never felt pain, or sadness, or fear.

He snapped back into the moment and suddenly realized that he hadn't even seen Ryan's face in what seemed like hours. He flopped back onto his back again as Ryan stood to make his exit. He looked at him, and he loved him, and it changed nothing.

"Ryan..."

Ryan didn't respond, waiting for him to continue.

"I love you," Evan finally managed to whisper, and he was sure that - even without being able to read his mind - Ryan could tell that something had changed.

Still, Evan couldn't imagine letting him just leave without hearing the truth for the last time.

Ryan bent over Evan's bedside and kissed him, this time not quite as hesitantly as usual. Evan didn't fight it, didn't feel the need to push him away to solidify his resolution. He accepted it as a final offering. He would remember it like this until the day he died.

Ryan pulled away slowly, allowing his face to hover millimetres from Evan's. His lips parted again, as if he wished he could go back for more, as if he knew that he'd just kissed him for the last time, and was now regretting its brevity. Instead, he just whispered, his nose against his, "Thank you..." Ryan paused, grinning lovingly while looking down at Evan's lips. "...for saying yes," he finished, raising his eyes to meet Evan's with a slight increase in his smile.

Evan didn't speak, because he knew there was nothing to be said in this moment that would ever make sense to them both.

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I refuse to believe that you didn't see this coming at least a little bit. You're too clever to allow yourself to be caught completely off guard, even if you've never possessed the ability to read me like a book. I know you. Things like this just don't escape your silent attention. What confuses me is why you never mentioned anything to me about it. Was it a subconscious hope that kept you quiet all this time, or did you purposely decide to ignore the warning signs in order to maintain the status quo for as long as we could both endure it? Either way, I'm sorry. I wish you could have had the courage to break my heart, since I'm the one who deserves it. As it is, we now both have to accept that this is the way it was meant to play out.

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Evan just sat there for a while, unsure how to process the seconds as they inched along and vanished one by one. If he was to believe what the voices in his head were telling him, then he'd just kissed Ryan Purcell for the very last time. He felt as though he were lying to himself, or at least playing a game to see if he could trick his own brain into believing a lie. He was frozen; he had to stay completely still for a moment, because he knew that whatever came next - whatever move he made - would determine the entire course of... everything. These weren't things to be taken lightly.

His first move was made subconsciously: a simple step out of his bed and towards the closet. He grabbed a bag from somewhere near the back and started filling it with the first clothing items he could reach. As the bag started to fill up, he realized that there was no possible way he was going to get everything to fit inside, so he stepped back, gripped the hair at his temple with his right hand, mumbled "screw it" to himself, and decided to just abandon it. And while it was all very literal at the moment, the metaphorical implications threatened to crush him as he lobbed the bulbous, brimming duffel back into the closet, deciding - rather dramatically - to travel light.

He instead threw a few modest items into his old, ratty backpack, slung it over one shoulder and darted across the room to his desk. He tapped the button on the front of his computer monitor with his knuckle, waiting impatiently for the blue-white glow to flood the small space and offer him some much-needed illumination.

He knew he couldn't take the car; that much was obvious. If he started the engine, Susan would hear, and this whole thing would be over before it even started.

He opened the browser, allowed his fingers to hover tetchily over the keys for a second before pounding out the desired words: "Taxi Neilton Washington". He clicked on the first link that popped up, then frantically scanned the room to locate his cell phone. He couldn't see it anywhere, couldn't even remember when he'd last used it, and the resulting panic educed a thud that echoed inside his chest cavity like a thick rubber-band being snapped against a balloon.

He yanked all of his nightstand drawers out of their slots and, after pawing through their contents to no avail, stacked them on the floor right next to his bed and continued to ransack the place. He whipped the sheets from the mattress, shaking them out, tossing the pillows carelessly behind him, then piling everything back onto the bed haphazardly. He checked the desk, the windowsill, his bookshelf, even the closet, and still came up empty-handed.

This can't possibly be a sign, he thought.

He didn't even believe in signs.

He frantically spun around one last time, his dangling arms answering the tug of his upper body, slicing the air like loose propeller blades. When he stopped, he saw it... right there in front of his face. He remembered now. It was right where he'd left it on the seat of the rocking chair, right where he'd sat waiting for Ryan not even an hour ago.

As Evan bent to pick it up, the tears just... appeared. He knew why they were there, but that still didn't mean he'd been expecting them. Soon the sobs began to intensify to the point where they were almost completely annihilating him, stealing all the breath from his lungs, forcing him to grip the chair for balance. The silent screams burned in the back of his throat, and a dull ache throbbed somewhere just behind his eyes. This lapse in concentration, this unanticipated flash flood lasted only about five minutes, but it left its intended impression all the same.

When it was over he picked up his phone, wiped off his face, and sat back down in front of the computer. The night wasn't about to stop and wait for him, and Evan didn't have another five minutes to waste on crying.

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I'm not going to try and fool myself into believing that running away is the same as disappearing. I know you have the means to track me down, just like I know that, given the chance, you'd have followed me anywhere I asked. Please... I'm begging you not to try and find me.

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The pieces of shattered glass crunched loudly against the concrete, giving his measured steps their own staticky soundtrack, an auditory reminder that he was indeed moving forward... that the time for idleness had passed. The noise was too rhythmical for his liking, though. It was unsettling, and even though he couldn't figure out why he didn't like it, he nonetheless broke into a lazy jog, stopping when he found himself facing a passenger door adorned with faded black and yellow checks.

The door was locked when he first tried to open it, and the driver must have pressed the release button at the exact moment that he made his second attempt, because it still refused to budge. The third failed effort was nothing short of embarrassing.

Evan raised both hands up to his shoulders, palms exposed to the slightly tinted windows. At the same time, a deep, muffled voice from inside shouted, "Don't touch it for a sec!" When he finally heard the click, lifted the handle, and snuck his face into the gap, he was sure his cheeks and forehead were as red as they could possibly get.

His nervousness silenced himself for a second, and Evan suddenly realized that he didn't know what he was doing... or what he was supposed to say. Still, the last thing he wanted was for his ignorance to be so apparent that it would start to raise suspicions, so he forced himself to speak despite his complete lack of preparation.

"Umm... are you the taxi that I... uh... ordered?"

Evan's eyelids involuntarily squished together in humiliation, and he deliberately bit down on his tongue, already anticipating - and trying to head off - the words "Wait, can I start over again?" before they escaped his mouth.

"Nope," the cab driver answered flippantly, "I'm a human person." His attention was mostly focused on the open side console, fingers casually sorting through what sounded like several sheets of crumpled paper... receipts, perhaps.

Evan must have looked either completely stunned or completely appalled, because the cab driver immediately felt the need to elaborate, "This here's your taxi." He tapped the dashboard with his knuckle, "and this is where I was told to come, so that must make youuuuu..." He finally lifted a scrap of paper from the chaos of the console and held it out at arm's length in front of his horribly squinted eyes, moving it back and forth to try and gain some focus. "...Evan... Halliday?"

Evan stepped back defensively, straightened up a bit. "How do you know my-"

"Caller ID at the depot," the cab driver interrupted his question, continuing, "If you don't want people to know your name when you call them, you should probably change your privacy settings. Everyone's got caller ID these days."

He blinked, taken aback by the cab driver's honesty. Since he couldn't think of a decent comeback, he turned and glanced at the road he'd been dead set on re-tracing not thirty seconds ago. His eyes swept from the car to the street and back again, dragging his entire head along with them.

"So..." the cab driver said, derailing Evan's train of thought as he turned to rest his elbow on the shoulder of the passenger seat, "yooooouuuu need a ride somewhere?" It probably wasn't meant to come out as sarcastic as it ended up sounding.

"Oh, right..." Evan forced himself back to present-time with a rough shake of his head, "Yeah, I guess so."

When he finally ducked inside, the second thing he noticed (the first being the overwhelming new-car scent, undoubtedly the product of a one-dollar cardboard tree) was the meter on the dash: "Forty-six dollars!?" He squeaked, unable to hide the surprise in his voice.

The cab driver cleared his throat, jerking his head slightly to the side with apparent confusion, "I thought Dave said you were willing to pay the extra fare it took me to get here."

"Yeah, I did say that... but... crap," Evan mumbled.

"Crap is right," the cab driver sort-of-laughed with vague interest, plucking his Blackberry from its cup-holder nest and punching out few rapid keystrokes. "What's with the out-of-town cab thing, anyway? You going back to Aberdeen?"

"No," Evan replied, determined to leave it at that. He wasn't about to tell the cab driver that he couldn't take a cab in Neilton because most of the drivers knew his mother, and he really didn't feel the need to mention that he actually had called Neilton Taxi initially, only to abruptly hang up on Marty Schultz, the husband of Susan's colleague. He cringed a little at the recollection of his momentary lapse in judgement.

"So then... where to?" The driver finally asked after a moment's silence, settling back into his seat and draping both hands on top of the steering wheel. Evan decided the cab driver seemed nice enough, though possibly a little jaded from being forced to work the night shift. He'd probably jumped at the chance to take on this unusual assignment, the solitary highway drive at least promising a refreshing break from the norm. He was sure the potentially extravagant fare had likely played a deciding role as well.

He cleared his throat softly, managed to force out, "Taholah."

"The reservation?" The cab driver gawked, his head now partially turned towards Evan. Evan could only see half of the shock on his face - one wide, slightly bloodshot eye straining to size up this odd guy sitting just outside its peripheral line.

"Yeah." He said it quickly, brushing aside the cab driver's surprise like it was nothing, then decided it was necessary to tack on, "Is... that okay?"

The cab driver chuckled, shifting into drive. "You're the boss."

Evan nodded as they pulled out onto the main road that led towards the highway.

"Awesome."

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αυтнσя'ѕ иσтє:

To clarify, this is a novella, which is to say, longer than a short story but shorter than an average novel.

Hopefully this is as interesting as my other work. Do review and tell me what you think of it. Your words give me encouragement. Only ONE chapter or TWO at best to go before the end! So stay tune!

*offers everyone a meringue snow cone*

PS. Human by Daughters.