sorry for taking fifty years to update, but I finally took my SAT's and things are settling down so updates should go back to normal! :-)

"He's afraid. He knows how far I came to find him." - Hugh Glass, The Revenant 

I was sitting across from Grant Cutkosky in a relatively empty Dunkin' Donuts.

I hadn't planned to talk to any of the Cutkoskys - not after what happened when I blurted out the words paranoid schizophrenia to Griffin. But Grant had called me the next morning to ask me how I was, and then the words not fine slipped out of my mouth and he was suddenly asking me to meet him later that day. So I did.

Grant drummed his fingers on the table, a half-eaten donut and coffee sitting in front of me. I had opted for hot chocolate, instead. My nerves were already fried and I had barely gotten a wink of sleep the last night. I didn't need anything else making me feel even more jittery. 

Grant and I had made small talk when we first came, but quickly lapsed into silence. He was eyeing my textbooks on the table, and I was eyeing him. At first glance, it was unnerving how much he and Griffin looked alike. They both had the same dark, cold blue eyes, thin lips that were almost always straight, and even the same sharp jawline. I kept seeing Griffin every time I looked at him.

"I wish I went to college," Grant said finally, reaching out and plucking my history textbook off the top. He dropped it onto the table and flipped through it, fingers brushing over the pages lightly, "I wanted to go to UPenn for medicine. I was thinking a surgeon, maybe."

I raised my eyebrows at that, "What made you not go?"

"Grades," Grant said, closing the book and pressing his palm on top of it. He blinked and looked over at me, a sheepish smile on his face, "I'm not book-smart."

I couldn't help but think about Griffin when he said that. Griffin who, as far as I knew, hadn't gone to college either. I pursed my lips and let my mind wander; it was a bit weird that neither brother had gone to college. Especially when one of them had hopes to become a surgeon. 

"You're studying psychology, right?" Grant asked, head cocked lightly to the side. It was in those moment that his stark contrasts with Griffin became evident. Grant had an air of innocence, one that his brother didn't have, "My mom was a psychologist, actually. I think I might've told you that before. You just remind me a lot of her."

I wrapped my fingers around my cup of hot chocolate and smiled at the look on Grant's face, "Yeah? I appreciate that."

"She always thought the best of Griffin, even when no one else did," Grant continued, an almost absentminded look on his face. He seemed to be talking without even thinking of the words leaving his mouth, "You do too."

I didn't respond to that. I wasn't really sure how I felt about what he had said. I didn't really think that what Grant was true - the other day I had just accused Griffin of possibly being a paranoid schizophrenic, and now his brother was telling me how highly I thought of him. My stomach twisted, a mix of guilt and embarrassment washing over me. 

"Don't say that in front of Griffin."

Grant put my book back where it was and leaned back in his seat, stretching out his legs on the other side of the table. He wrapped up his half-eaten donut, tossed it in the trashcan behind him, and turned his full attention on me. Grant moved his cup slightly to the side and leaned forward again, resting his elbows on the table.

"Oh?" he said, voice teetering off into a questioning tone at the end, "Did something happen with you guys?"

The last thing I wanted to do was tell Grant what I had said to Griffin. In the moment, it felt right to say that. I felt like I needed to say the thoughts that had been racing through my mind that day. Now, though? Now I felt embarrassment as just the mere idea of repeating the words I had once said. My mouth suddenly felt dry.

What I had done to Griffin was unethical. Any professional psychologist would stare at me in disgust if they heard of the way I 'diagnosed' him. What I had done was wrong, and I knew that. I didn't have enough proof to say if Griffin suffered from such a serious disease, and yet I had blurted it out. 

"I don't talk to Griffin that much, so I wouldn't know," Grant continued, expression softening when he saw how uncomfortable I must have looked, "If something happened, you don't have to tell me, Emmy."

And yet, for some reason, I felt like Grant would understand why I said what I did. He always seemed to be the most understanding out of the two. While Griffin acted on impulse (something I had seen and experienced first-hand), Grant seemed more like the type of person to actually think things through. I felt like he would listen to what I said before he made a snap decision.

I didn't know how to started, so I said the first thing that came to mind: "I accused Griffin of suffering from paranoid schizophrenia."

Grant blinked. Once, twice, three times in rapid succession as he stared at me. He looked shocked, jaw going slightly slack, eyes widening at what he heard. Grant shook his head and frowned, looking like he was thinking over what I had said. Eventually, he seemed to come to the conclusion that he must have heard me wrong and asked me again.

"Wait, what did you say to him?"

I swallowed tightly, "Griffin and I were talking, and I said that he might possibly be suffering from paranoid schizophrenia," I repeated, cheeks heating up when Grant pushed himself back from the table slightly, "He's angry at me, which is completely understandable. I don't know why I said it - it was just something I had been thinking about before."

There was only one way to describe Grant's facial expression: betrayed.

He sat up straight in his seat, blue eyes darkening ever-so-slightly. His posture went rigid; his fingers gripped the edge of the table and his jaw locked tightly. Grant stared at me in utter surprise, mouth opening but no words coming out. He dropped his hands from the table and let them fall at his sides before quickly dragging his fingers through his hair.

"What the fuck?" he asked, and I thought that was the first time I ever heard him curse, "You called my brother schizophrenic and then met me here today? He's my brother!"

Grant shot up out of his seat, suddenly, drawing the attention of everyone in the store. The lady from behind the counter took a few steps back, and I watched in surprise as Grant took deep breaths, hands trembling by my sides. His mood changed so drastically so quickly; I almost felt like I was talking to someone else.

I stood up slowly, carefully, hands staying planted by my sides, "It was a mistake, Grant," I told him, trying to keep my voice even, "I know Griffin doesn't have it." Lie.

"You think you can go and call my brother insane and then meet me?" Grant snapped, veins in his neck throbbing, eyes alight with sudden anger, "That's insane. This isn't a game and I'm not on your goddamn side!"

I didn't understand what Grant was saying. I had said something that triggered an emotional attack for him, but I wasn't sure why. I knew that Griffin was his brother so it was natural for Grant to get mad at what I said, but this was something else entirely. He didn't seem mad - he seemed betrayed. He was yelling at me for picking sides, but I didn't understand why.

"There aren't any sides, Grant - "

"I can't believe you," he continued, voice raising and then dropping suddenly, like he became aware of the people staring at him. Grant took slow steps forward, inching towards the door, and I followed, "I thought I could trust you, but then you go and attack Griffin. You don't care about him."

Grant pushed the door open suddenly and stormed out, slamming it closed behind him. I grabbed the handle and stepped out, just in time to see Grant pacing the parking lot directly in front of us. I took the few steps down from Dunkin' and paused, watching as he tugged on his hair and mumbled something incoherent.

It was times like these where Griffin and Grant's stark differences weren't so evident. 

I had apparently pegged Grant wrong - very, very wrong. He was just like his brother in the fact that he reacted emotionally and impulsively. Only Griffin had never acted like this - had never said anything about their being sides. When Griffin reacted emotionally, he got angry. When Grant reacted emotionally, he seemed to be acting like I betrayed him.

"I don't think there's anything wrong with Griffin," I called out, the words tasting sour on my tongue. I hadn't thought enough about it to believe what I said, but I needed to calm Grant down, "I promise. I'm not trying to make you feel like you have to pick sides, Grant."

"Do you think it's a game?" he snapped out, abruptly stopping his pacing to turn to me, "Do you think you can go around diagnosing people all you want and playing detective with my mom's murder case? I shouldn't have trusted you and now you proved that. You're fucking - god damn it!"

Grant brought up his leg and slammed his foot down onto the ground, letting out a loud, angry shout. I had expected some anger when I told him what I said to Griffin, but not this. I didn't expect him to accuse me of playing detective in his mother's murder case, or tell me that I was forcing him to pick sides. I hadn't expected a complete breakdown.

Grant turned and started storming down the parking lot, walking right by his car without even seeming to notice it. Despite my better judgement (because, in all honesty, his outburst had scared me) I jogged a few feet across the parking lot and cupped my hands around my mouth.

"Grant!" I shouted, eyes darting from his now-abandoned car to his quickly retreating figure. I took another step forward and called out as loud as I could, "Grant!"

Grant's shoulders stiffened but he kept walking until I couldn't see him anymore. I stared out in shock at the empty parking lot in front of me, barely able to process what had just happened. In one second I had gone from having a nice, albiet awkward, conversation with Grant, to him having a breakdown and storming off.

I quickly grabbed my phone out of my pocket and unlocked it, scrolling down to the one person in my contact list who I thought could help. I knew I was probably the last person he wanted to talk to, but my heart was racing and I was terrified and needed to talk to him.

"If you're calling to tell me what new mental illness you discovered I had, then I'm going to hang up the phone right now."

"It's about Grant."

</ ba-dum :) haha I hope you guys liked this chapter! there's probably about five/six chapters left, so get ready! shit is going to go down ahah. let me know your thoughts!