>>ten

She didn't mean for this to happen, but she couldn't quite understand how he'd forgotten it.

The little black notebook that he carried around him near enough everywhere was sitting on the bench, all alone without its owner anywhere in sight. She hadn't seen Darren today— he had to leave early for a dentist appointment— but surely he would've realised by now.

She was unsure of whether she should take it home with her or not. It's not that she wanted to leave it, considering some else might fall upon it, but what if he came back for it to see it was gone?

Shaking her head, she took the book and stuffed it in the bottom of her bag. It would only be a day until he next saw her.

She was overthinking the whole ordeal.

By the time she reached home, Mother was there. The smell of something bland hit her upon entering the house, and she turned on the memory of the burger she'd only had a few days before.

All that greasy, fatty, delectable goodness.

Suppressing a sigh, she entered the kitchen to greet Mother.

• • •

After dinner, she headed back to her room to study. As she unpacked her bag, she remembered what she'd placed in it earlier. Holding it in her hands, she turned it over, scrutinising the fine-print at the bottom.

She let out a small laugh. Only someone like him would do something like that.

She bit her lip, unable to help the rise inside urging her to take a look.

It couldn't hurt, could it?

She just wanted to understand him.

Only a few pages, she told herself.

She flipped to the first.

She turned the page.

"What..." She whispered, bewilderment filling her veins, and a coldness settling over her heart.

The next page.

Next.

Next.

She turned again and again, but the pages seemed to be endless. A never-ending pit of emptiness spilt across the pages in black ink. Each word as permanent as the next, and yet the more she read, the less she saw.

Tears splashed against the pages, and she slammed the book shut, unable to contain the shaking within her.

If there was one thing that Evelyn knew well in this world, it was pain. She knew it so well that it'd gotten to the point that she would barely acknowledge it anymore— she wasn't even capable of letting tears fall over it. But right now, in this moment, her cheeks were slick with nothing but tears.

Real and pure and wet.

This was something else, she realised. Some kind of pain she'd never known like a rupture from deep down inside, past the cages of the ribs containing her life-line.

For once, her heart beat for a purpose other than to pump blood.

It beat for him.

And it hurt for his pain.

• • •

She didn't know how to bring it up. Obviously, she was never meant to find that book— no one was supposed to. On those pages, he'd laid himself bare, but that kind of vulnerability wasn't made to be shared.

But she also knew that she couldn't not say anything.

She was surprised, though, that he hadn't asked her about it. Surely he'd noticed by now that it was missing.

Occupied in his own task of daydreaming as they sat on the bench, she took the book out of her bag and put it in the space between them. When he didn't notice, she cleared her throat lightly. He glanced over dismissively before doing a double take.

"Where did you get this?" His voice was hinted with accusation.

"I—uh..." Evelyn stuttered like she'd committed a crime, which she probably did, considering how she crossed a major line yesterday, and knew now there was no going back.

She was interrupted from responding, though, as something unexpected happened. His face grew distant, as if he was living in another moment, and it was so foreign for Evelyn to see such a look on him, her heart panged in distress.

She clutched her hands together, the intensity of the situation hitting her with a deafening silence.

Say something.

A pressure began to build up in her chest, and she said the first thing that came to mind.

Something she wasn't really expecting to, nor could truly believe were coming out her mouth.

"Are you depressed, Darren?" The words felt stiff and clunky as she said them, but she let them out regardless.

And then, he was back on Earth again, looking up at Evelyn, his eyes creasing into a sad smile.

"Probably concerned you a bit, didn't it?"

She didn't say anything in return, unsure of how to proceed.

"I'm sorry you had to see all that. If I'd known I'd be having a reader, I wouldn't have made it so aggressive." He smirked, and it was apparent that he was trying to lighten the mood. "But no, not really. I think I'm way too optimistic to ever imagine myself being that way... Depressed." He shook his head, an almost wonder-like tone taking over.

Suddenly, things began to click within Evelyn's mind. She always thought his face was like an open book, easily read and never misunderstood. And in all honesty, she could never understand how people like that existed— what made them so willing to expose their true selves like that? But now, it was becoming more and more apparent that maybe that was not always the case.

For most of her life, the only way Evelyn knew how to cope was by closing herself off from the world. By bottling down every kind of emotion that had the power to rule over her rationale state of mind. In the end, she wasn't really left with much of anything, other than the fleeting whisper of a happy thought, or the flicker of a good memory that existed in the recesses of her mind.

What she didn't realise, however, was that maybe others coped by braving through with a happy face.

It stupefied her to think how many people she passed on the daily who were trapped inside the cages of their own mind, and yet still had found the strength to smile through it.

But it pained her even more to think that Darren was one of those people.

"I don't think it works that way," she whispered. But the sudden urge to reassure him was prevalent. "You don't have to tell me anything. I was just..."

Concerned.

Worried.

Apprehensive.

She didn't say the words.

He took in a shaky breath, and he too, only answered in a weak whisper. "It's nothing like that. Honest. There are so many other people who have it worse off."

"But this isn't about other people. This is about your life."

He let out a laugh, but the harshness of it jolted her. "Sometimes it's hard to think that. It's about your life. Most of the time it feels like I'm a side character to my own life. Like someone decided I wasn't good enough for the main role, and casted me aside."

Evelyn was struck with the realisation of just how much they had in common, and she wished she could just tell him right there and then. The words lived on the tip of her tongue, but they didn't belong here, in this moment. No matter how much the urge to create this tie between them existed.

"Everyone has problems. Doesn't mean some are more important than others. In your life, your problems are always going to be the worst." She didn't even think about the words leaving her mouth. They just spewed out like they were dormant for the last seventeen years and finally, finally they had a reason to exist with all the other mingled words that had long since dissipated into the atmosphere. "In your life, you'll always be the one worse off."

"But no one ever thinks that getting bullied is the worst possible situation to be in. Because it isn't. How could it ever be? There are people out there with actual problems and people listen to them because their problems are real and so, so horrible. But then you get to the kid who's having a rough time from his classmates and people think 'how tragic' before moving on." His voice is a raging wind, so loud and powerful, it ringed against her ear drums. "Yeah," he laughed bitterly. "How tragic."

And then he was crying.

Not big, wailing sobs, but silent tears.

Tears that told a suppressed story of pain and heartache and Evelyn so very badly wanted to be able to do something or anything or everything rather than just sit there breathing.

She didn't want this for him, because this wasn't him.

This had never been Darren for her.

"I don't know how to do this." She felt pathetic saying the words. This wasn't about her so why would she make it about herself?

"There's never a right way to do anything. You only ever have to do what you feel."

"What I feel?" She breathed the words into the wind, knowing he didn't hear them.

She doesn't know if she should or shouldn't, but all she knew was that she did feel. She felt the rawness of it rub against her chest, grating away all the things that prevented her from ever feeling.

So, she did what she felt.

She hugged him.