I didn't see Griffin for the next two days.

After the police told Griffin why they were at his apartment, he talked to them for a few minutes before following them outside and, presumably, going to the police station. Griffin had come home in the middle of the night that day and, by the time I was up and out of my apartment, he had already left. It seemed like Griffin was gone all hours of the day - I never had a chance to talk to him anymore.

I sighed and stepped out of my apartment, a philosophy textbook in one arm and an English one in the other. I kicked the door shut and turned around, making it halfway done the hall before my eyes landing on Griffin.

Griffin was turned around, leaning against the railing on the stairs as he looked down at something. His hair was as messy as ever and he was obviously tense, if his tight, coiled position said anything. I didn't focus on any of that, though. I practically started jogging forward, hurt thumping in my chest because I hadn't talked to yet alone even seen Griffin days. 

"Griffin!" I called, stopping a few feet behind him. Griffin didn't turn and I frowned, clutching my books a little tighter, "Griffin?"

Griffin turned around, but suddenly he wasn't Griffin.

The guy staring at me looked like Griffin - the same dark, messy blond hair and angled face - but there was clear differences. This guy had dark blue eyes and thicker lips then Griffin, lips that always seemed to be upturned in a smile, if the smile lines by his mouth meant anything. This guy was shorter than Griffin and thinner, all long legs and arms.

"Grant, actually," he said, shooting me a bright smile. The guy - Grant - took a step forward, fingers dancing lightly on the railing next to him, "I'm looking for Griffin, though. He's my brother."

I didn't know much about Griffin Cutkosky, and I definitely didn't know that he had a brother. But I could easily see the resemblance. Griffin and Grant both had the same facial structure, same long, thin fingers that constantly seemed to be tapping something. It wasn't really much of a shock to find out that they were brothers.

"Emmy," I said, smiling back at him. Grant walked up the steps suddenly and stopped next to me, holding out his hand. I blinked in surprise and shook his hand, wincing at how tightly Grant gripped, "I can show you Griffin's apartment if you want. I'm not sure if he's home, though. He rarely is."

Grant seemed surprise by that, dark blue eyes widening what looked like a fraction of an inch, "Really?" he asked, trailing behind me as I started the way back to Griffin's apartment, "I called and told him I'd be on my way. It would be kind of embarrassing if he left before I even got to show up."

As Grant talked about how annoying it would be if Griffin wasn't home, I couldn't help but wonder if the police had talked to Grant yet. I didn't know much about the case of Mrs. Cutkosky (at the time when she was murdered, ten years ago, everyone in northeast Philadelphia knew about it), and I didn't know why they were re-opening the case ten years later, but I knew the affect it had on Griffin. The boy who I thought I was managing to pull out of his shell and make happier had now been avoiding me for days.

I stopped in front of Griffin's apartment and stepped to the side, letting Grant smile at me, walk forward, and knock loudly on the door. Grant took a step back and shoved his hands in his pockets, lips pursing into a straight line. Grant took his hands out of his pockets and instead tugged them through his hair, pushing the blond strands back until they rested perfectly.

"Answer the fucking door, Griffin," Grant muttered, a frown taking place on his face right after he spoke. Grant took another deep breath and rapped his knuckles against the door, leaning forward and calling out in a calm voice, "Griffin, it's Grant. Open up."

Griffin opened the door a few seconds later in a pair of boxers and a black t-shirt. Griffin blinked, pale blue eyes landing on me before going to Grant. Griffin took a step back in surprise and tugged his fingers through his messy hair, jaw going slack. Grant said he called his brother earlier, but Griffin looked shocked. And a little annoyed.

"It's the fucking morning," Griffin stated, voice deep with sleep. Griffin swallowed and crossed his arms over his chest, narrowed eyes darting between Grant and I, "What are you doing here? And why are you here, Emmy?"

I frowned at the coldness in Griffin's voice, but tried to hide it. I had seen Griffin hanging out in my apartment, smiling and arguing over movies, and knew this coldness was just a front, "Grant didn't know which apartment was yours."

Grant took a step back and put his hands behind his back, a frown etched onto his face, "We need to talk, Griffin."

Griffin scowled at both of us, all the warmth I had seen in his face the previous days seemingly gone forever, "Considering you showed up at my apartment at eight in the morning, I'm going to need a little more than just needing to talk to me, Grant."

If Grant was getting annoyed at Griffin's words, he didn't show it. If anything, Grant took another step back and clasped his fingers tightly together, the frown on his face highlighting the nervousness in his eyes. All at once, any confidence or assurance I had seen in Grant's face and posture completely vanished. At that point, Grant seemed to look almost guilty for bothering Griffin so early.

"Griff," he said quietly, side-eyeing me nervously before turning back to a much calmer looking Griffin, "We need to talk about them re-opening mom's case."

All at once Griffin's face became a blank slate, emotion draining so quickly I wasn't sure he had ever previously had a reaction to Grant and I showing up. Griffin's pale blue eyes were completely emotionless, lips drawn back into a tight line, fingers tapping against his legs. It was at that moment that I realized how good Griffin Cutkosky was at closing himself off.

Griffin opened the door wider and stepped aside, fingers clenching together into tight fists that turned his knuckles pale white. Griffin nodded his head and Grant smiled tightly at me before disappearing into Griffin's apartment, vanishing from sight when he went over to the living room. I adjusted my bag and books and took a step back, only to have Griffin step out of the apartment and pull the door closed behind him.

"Thank you," he said, and even though I didn't know why he was thanking me, I didn't ask. Somehow I knew that those words meant a lot more than just the simple surface meaning.

So I smiled back at him, "You're welcome."

I was half-way down the hall when Griffin's voice made me turn around. A small smile was playing on his lips, and I decided to just focus on that. Not the other quirks or anxious behaviors he had, but the smile that seemed to make Griffin's whole face light up.

"Good luck on your test, Emmy."

-

"Oh my God," Cara breathed out, pacing the length of her house, fingers tugging through her hair. Cara paused in front of her TV and turned to me, eyes wide, face filled with realization, "I can't believe I never really your neighbor was Griffin Cutkosky. Everyone knew about his mom's murder, I just never put it together that he was your neighbor."

I was done with classes for the day, and since Cara was too, we both decided to go back to her house (her parents', really), and attempt to knock out some schoolwork. Of course that only lasted for a few minutes before I told her about how I had seen Grant, and then we were back to talking about Griffin and the police re-opening his mom's case.

"I know," I breathed out and leaned back against the couch, crossing my arms over my philosophy book, "I think that's how he liked it, though. I didn't talk to him that long, but Griffin never talked about his mom. I don't think he wanted everyone in the complex to talk about it."

Cara nodded and walked over, plopping down on the couch next to me, "It makes sense. They're keeping it really hush-hush, too. Nothing's been on the news."

"I feel horrible for Griffin, honestly. Grant too."

My mind had been focused on selfish thoughts such as Griffin ignoring me the past few days and how much I missed talking to him, but I hadn't really just thought about Griffin. While I was caught up in missing hanging out with him, I hadn't really thought about how he was taking the news of the police re-opening his mom's case with a new suspect. I couldn't even imagine how Griffin was dealing with that, and I didn't even know half the information that he did.

There was no way I could ever possibly understand what Griffin was feeling; to understand the emotional process he was going through. I could sympathize with Griffin - I could just feel bad for him - but I would never understand what my neighbor was going through. And that was why there was no possible way in the word that I could ever be mildly upset at him for ignoring me.

"It's been ten years," Cara said, eyebrows furrowing as she propped her feet up on the coffee table and crossed her legs at the ankles, "I can't believe they're deciding to re-open to case now."

I frowned at that, because Cara was right. I knew time never fully healed wounds, but Griffin had managed to go ten years of his life without having his mom's case brought up. I knew he was grieving and obviously was reminded of her, but this was different. Ten years later, after he had maybe started to heal, the police were re-opening the case. Re-opening a wound.

"I know," I muttered, feeling my phone vibrate in my bag. I sighed and leaned back, deciding to let it go. I pushed my textbook and notes off my lap and stood up, tugging my fingers through my - thankfully - straightened hair, "It's insane."

Cara and I lapsed into a few minutes of silence, each of us lost in our own thoughts. While I couldn't pull my mind and thoughts away from Griffin (and even Grant), Cara was now focused on flipping through the TV stations. I sighed and leaned against the wall, half-paying attention to the show she put on and half-wondering if Griffin was all right.

"God, Emmy, can you please answer your phone?" Cara complained, unzipping my purse and pulling out my phone. Without waiting for an answer, Cara tossed my phone at me and grinned when I managed to catch it, "Good catch."

I had a missed call from my dad, a missed call from Griffin, and a new message from Griffin. I knew I probably should have clicked on my dad's voicemail, but I couldn't help but unlock my phone and click on Griffin's message first. I wish I hadn't, though, because the words made my stomach drop.

Griffin: 

emmy are you home? I'm not sure if you're at classes, but if you aren't please come back. I need to talk to someone. to you, please

</ hi :)

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