dedicated to codependent for leaving such nice, thoughtful, and good guesses on all the chapters :-)

"Do you know what fear stands for? False Evidence Appearing Real." - Lou Bloom, Nightcrawler 

The last person I expected to see at Target is Griffin Cutkosky.

I was three hours into a particularly grudging shift, helping my co-worker in the electronics department, when Griffin walked in. I don't know why I'm so surprised - this is the closest Target to our apartment complex - but I couldn't help it when I stopped and turned to him, fingers wrapped tightly around the box of a brand new camcorder.

Griffin walked so effortlessly, the exhaustion that is so clearly shown on his face contradicted by his easy, swift movements. His fingers trembled at his sides, occasionally coming up to adjust the collar of his white shirt or fix the buttons and align them. Other than those slight movements - little fidgety movements I noticed Griffin often does - he looks fine, blue eyes scanning the shelves, eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

"Emmy?" Bryan, my coworker, called, arms piled high with boxes of electronics. I tore my gaze away from Griffin and turned to him, switching the box in my arms from hand-to-hand, "Can you handle the register? I'll finish stock."

I nodded and put the box on the shelf next to me, fixing my red polo before taking place behind the cash register. In the time it took me to unlock the register, check to make sure everything was okay, and rub down the counter quickly, Griffin had managed to pull Bryan into a conversation, the boxes he was stocking abandoned on the shelf next to the two of them.

Griffin was waving his hands animatedly, repeating pointing to the section of video recorders and camcorders. Bryan kept nodding, pointing to different versions and mumbling things too quiet for me to hear. There was a certain nervousness about Griffin when he spoke, like the confidence that he had walked in with was slowly oozing out of him.

"Excuse me?" the customer in front of me said, dropping his box down onto the table in front of me. I blinked and turned to him, forcing myself to work on my job and not Griffin, "I'm ready to check out."

"Oh yeah, of course. I'm so sorry."

I started scanning the items in front of me, a bubble of annoyance brewing in my stomach. The man had a ton of items - things from produce to a pair of pajama bottoms - and one phone charger. He could have just checked out at the regular counter, but he had one electronic device, and he was clearly taking use of the fact that the cash registers back here were always almost empty.

I finished checking him out quickly, stuffing the cash into the register and closing back up. Dropping down onto the stool behind me, I pulled out my phone, clicking on Cara's contact and opening up a new text message. I hadn't told her about the adventure to Griffin's house I had two days ago (one that I still had lots of questions about), but I just felt like I should text her now.

Emmy:

Griffin showed up at Target

I tapped my fingers impatiently on my phone screen, not sure what I was waiting for. Griffin showing up at Target really wasn't weird at all, but after the visit to his old house, we hadn't talked. The car ride had been incredibly awkward, and the next day we just smiled tightly at each other in the hallway and went our separate ways.

I had a thousand questions, though. Why were Griffin and his dad so cold to each other? Why exactly did Griffin want a box filled with his mom's old things? And what had Griffin's dad meant when he said Griffin only wanted to remember his dad when it was convenient? It didn't make sense.

"I think I'd give the customer service a three out of ten. It would be a two, but you just helped that guy with a thousand groceries out, so I'll give you a pity point."

My head snapped up, fingers immediately stopping their rampant tapping on my phone. Griffin smiled at me and placed his box down on the table, resting his hands on the edge. I stood up off my stool and shoved my phone back into my pocket, grabbing Griffin's box and flipping it over, pulling it towards me.

"I appreciate the pity point," I responded, scanning the box and squinting down at the item. I stuffed it in a bag and pulled it up, placing it on the table and looking at Griffin with a raised eyebrow, "A video camera?"

Griffin wasn't exactly a hard person to read. His emotions were obvious; he had the kind of eyes that couldn't hide his feelings even if he wanted to. The problem was that Griffin seemed to be feeling so many emotions at once that it was impossible to pinpoint what exactly he was feeling in that moment. His blue eyes were clouded over - probably from exhaustion, if the ever-prominent bags under his eyes said anything - but his lips were quirked up into a small smile.

"Yup," he said, pulling out his wallet and riffling through the top, slipping out the appropriate amount of money, "It should do the job."

Taking the money out of Griffin's hand, I popped the cash register, swapping out his money for his change and handing it back. Smiling back at Griffin, I jokingly asked, "What? Are you gonna make a movie?"

Griffin's smile was something different now. Something I couldn't pinpoint, "Sure," he agreed, grabbing his bag tightly with one hand, "I'll see you later, Emmy."

My phone buzzed in my pocket, giving me no time to think over Griffin's undeniably weird answer. Frowning, I tugged my phone out of my pocket and unlocked the screen, clicking on Cara's message. The response I got from her didn't make me feel any better.

Cara:

wow, you can't seem to get away from him

-

"I can't believe you saw him at Target," Cara said, clicking the button in the elevator to get to my floor. I sighed and leaned back, gently pressing my head against the wall, "Like, he showed up at the one you just so happen to work at."

Another sigh escaped my lips, annoyance seeping into my veins. Every since I picked Cara up after my shift, she had been hell-bent on saying how weird it was that Griffin showed up at Target during my shift. Really, though, I didn't think it was too strange at all. It was the closest Target to our apartment, and, hell, I never even told Griffin I worked there. Cara just loved reading too much into things.

"Sure," I agreed, tugging on the collar of my work shirt, "He just so happened to show up at the closest Target to our apartment complex. So weird."

Cara scowled at me and I sent her a tight smile back, stepping out of the elevator when it got to my floor. My floor was usual the same thing every day - empty hallway, loud yells from Mr. Schweiger's apartment, and, depending on the time, the loud noise of Joan vacuuming. Today I was surprised to see Grant Cutkosky standing outside of Griffin's apartment, walking a few feet away from the door and then back.

Grant spun on his heels, turning back to walk in front of Griffin's door, when his eyes landed on me. Grant's blue eyes lit up and he waved, shoving his hands in his pockets and walking past Griffin's door, a smile on his face. Grant seemed different than last time I saw him - there was no hint of nervousness in the way he walked or subtle anxiety flashing in his eyes.

"Hey," he said, stopping a few feet in front of me. I smiled and nodded, but Grant's eyes were already on Cara, "I'm - "

"Grant!" Griffin's loud voice cut his brother off completely. Stepping out of his apartment in the same clothes I had seen him in earlier, Griffin stormed half-way down the hall to his brother, blue eyes narrowed in annoyance, "What the fuck are you doing? You were supposed to walk past the door and then come in, not keep going."

Cara cleared her throat and Griffin seemed to notice us for the first time, turning until his eyes landed on us. Griffin had an extension cord wrapped around his hand, blond hair messy and sticking up everywhere, but for once Griffin didn't look like he was about to collapse from exhaustion where he stood. Instead, Griffin looked determined, fingers clenched into fists, eyes alight with a certain fire I didn't recognize.

"Hey, Emmy," Griffin said, turning away and looking back at Grant. Cara raised an eyebrow, but she didn't have time to say anything, "Are you ready now, or should I give you time to walk the rest of the hallway and come back?"

Grant clenched his fingers into tight fists and shot Griffin a smile, nodding, "Of course I'm ready. And, no, don't feel the need to be nice. I'd never ask so much of you."

Griffin rolled his eyes and clenched his jaw, not bothering to utter another one and instead heading back to his apartment. Grant turned back to us and frowned, a feature that reminded me so much of Griffin it was startling.

The two brothers really were alike - both in posture and even personality aspects. While Griffin was more muscled, Grant was thinner with hollowed cheeks and thin arms. They both shared the same intense blue eyes, seemingly always accompanied with under-eye bags, and the same sort of nervous energy. While Griffin seemed like he couldn't stay still - he was either cracking his fingers, or twisting them - Grant just seemed like he was always thinking about what was the next.

"I'm sorry about that," Grant muttered, running his fingers through his hair, "Griffin can be a bit impatient."

Cara's lips twitched up into a smile, but I knew she was far from happy. I could see the obvious nervousness etched out in her facial features, "Well, I know which brother I like more."

Grant's jaw clenched, "Yes, we're brothers," he responded, shoving his hands in his pockets and taking a few slow steps back, "I have to go help him. I'll see you later, Emmy."

Grant turned and walked down the hallway, Cara and I slowly treading behind him. Cara was annoyed - that much was obvious - but I didn't bother saying anything yet. My best friend didn't really have a filter, and she didn't keep any of her thoughts to herself. I knew the second we were in my apartment I would hear what she was really thinking.

But I stopped the second I walked in front of Griffin's apartment.

"What the fuck?" I whispered quietly, doing a complete one-eighty until I was standing directly in front of us Griffin's door. The camcorder he bought at Target this morning was sitting on his kitchen counter, an extension cord hanging from the back and plugged into one of the walls. That wasn't what bothered me, though.

What bothered me was the fact that Griffin had the camera faced right at the hall and it was recording.

Cara walked in behind me and wrapped her fingers around my wrist, tugging lightly, "Emmy, let's go."

Griffin walked back into the kitchen, blinking when he saw me standing there. Grant trailed in a moment later, a bundle of wires and cords wrapped around his arm. Griffin noticed where my gaze was and cursed, walking over to the camera and flicking the button on the side. The red light signalling that it was recording flicked off, but I still felt I was being watched.

"Christ," Griffin muttered, ripping the cord out of the back of the camcorder and tossing it onto the floor. Griffin picked up the camera and opened the side, tugging out a memory card, "I just put a new card in there."

I could barely think, so I blurted out the first thing that came to mind, "What the hell are you doing, Griffin?"

Griffin grinned, lips cutting across his face like a knife, and his eyes lit up, "Someone broke into my apartment," he said, repeating the sentence he had spoken when he woke up to his oven on, "Now if someone tries to break in - " Griffin pointed to the door and then back to the camera that he placed back on the counter, " - I'll see. No one's getting in here."

There was so much wrong with Griffin's plan. If someone broke into his apartment, they weren't going to leave the camcorder sitting on his counter alone.  If someone broke into Griffin's apartment, it wasn't likely that they were just going to walk through the front door. No one had even broken into his apartment originally, and now this was just crazy.

"Emmy, come on," Cara said, fingers tightening around my wrist and tugging more forcefully, "If I don't learn what a Freudian slip is then I'm going to fail the test."

I was half-way out the door when the sound of Griffin's voice made me stop and turn around slowly, "It's something you accidentally say," he said, looking up at me through his light eyelashes, "that reveals your subconscious feelings. I remember it was in your textbook when I helped you study."

</ Ah I'm so excited to get back into this story! So this story is gonna have a lot of psychological terms/references, so if you ever have any questions, just ask! Also, Griffin's definition of a Freudian slip was right, but this is the actual definition: A Freudian slip, named after famous psycho-analysis Sigmund Freud, is when one is speaking, and accidentally inserts a word on one's subconscious mind in place of another word. 

I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! please let me know your thoughts, thank you, ily all! :-)