Souls don't need to speak in words,
They speak in silence.

.\.|./.

Crystal Monroe

|in which she makes a mistake|

Sometimes I wonder if I have lost my mind.

Other times, I'm sure I never had it.

Today is one of those times, when I wonder what the hell God was thinking when He forgot to give me a brain.

What kind of a girl, with any level of self-respect and goal in life, wakes up in the morning with the thought 'hmm, what do I cook for my incapacitated neighbor today?' Crazy girls like me, oh yes!

I should go to class. Instead, I spend my morning in my kitchen, despising myself for being so lame but too lazy to do anything about it. It doesn't feel natural for me to go out. The first few times I thought about getting a job or doing something with my life, Jeremy was very clear about what he wanted from me.

'I don't want you to be like those other girls, Chris,' he sad said. 'Those feminist chicks who value career more than relationships and go out dressed like sluts to get men to stare at their boobs. You want to do that, Chris? Don't you like being here? Safe and protected, loved and respected? Come on, babe, don't make me mad.'

'I don't like hurting you, babe. Please don't make me.' These were the words he always spoke to me afterward, holding me in his firm arms and hugging me to his chest and falling asleep like he didn't just leave bruises on my body and soul.

What bothered me in the first few months soon became a routine, and sometimes I even expected it. His anger and hate were expected, his love no longer was.

Trying not to think about Jeremy or the fact that I'm missing classes, I leave my house, a bowl of spicy chicken noodles in my arms, without chicken, unfortunately. I would have added chicken if I had some. But not only is my refrigerator entirely empty now, but my kitchen cabinets are too. I've been putting off shopping for groceries due to the fact that I have no money, but this is not something I want to think too much about.

'Maybe there's still something left in the bank,' I think to myself, making up my mind to go to the ATM in the evening.

I'm already absent-mindedly walking towards the entrance of Ryan's house when I see the car parked in front of his gate. I stop in my tracks, considering who it could be. In the past week or so that I have been bringing him food, he never had any visitors. The only person who even called him was his ... sister!

Without wasting a moment, I run back to my own house, pull open the door and jump in. I slam the door shut, panting and shocked by my own fear.

What am I afraid of? I have nothing to fear with regard to Ryan's sister. But the judgment in her gaze is something I don't want. I don't want Olivia to look at me and question why I'm doing anything for her brother at all. Worst case scenario, she might assume I'm still trying to poison him. Knowing Ryan, though, he would probably make up some fat lie that would be easy to see through.

Besides, if she's here, Ryan might not even need me to bring him food at all.

Comforted by the fact that he's in good hands -- why the hell do I even care? -- I put the noodles in the fridge and decide to go to the bank now. It would not only give me an opportunity to clear my head, but also provide me a chance to drive.

I leave the house again, locking up and getting into my car. Casting one last look towards Ryan's house, I pull onto the road, rolling down the window and letting the wind rush through my hair. I inhale it in, the cool wind soothing me from within.

I'm not sure where exactly it is that my love for driving stems from, but I feel like it has something to do with the amount of control it grants me. With the wheel in my hand, I have the authority to decide which way I want to go and what my destination will be. It's this tiny bit of freedom and autonomy that I like.

According to the ATM machine, I only have three hundred and two dollars in my joint account with Jeremy. Sighing in despair, I get three hundred, leaving the two for Jeremy to see if he ever decides to recall he's left me here, helpless and broke. Knowing him, though, this would only make him feel better. The power he has over me feeds him, my low causing his high, my tears bringing him smiles.

I go to campus first, sit through a class I understand nothing from, before leaving without attending the rest. When I return home -- after spending a $100 on groceries and some spares on fuel -- I see that the car that was parked in front of Ryan's house is gone. I contemplate whether I should drop by now, seeing as how it's already evening, or maybe just go home and break my strange habit of seeing him every day. It's weird, how Ryan has become a part of my routine, even when I refuse to acknowledge him as an important part of my life. His strange yet light-hearted acts do make my day better.

Anything is better than this sense of abandonment.

With that thought in mind, I decide to visit Ryan anyway. His estranged behavior might be weird and sometimes unnerving, but at least he doesn't make me feel like the crazy one. With him, I feel more normal than when I'm alone.

Ringing his doorbell, I wait. I don't have to wait too long, as the door is pulled open, revealing the wide smile of the man-god named Ryan whatever-the-hell-his-surname-is.

"Well, aren't you late today," he says, weirding me out as usual with just one sentence.

Instead of staring at him in surprise like I used to, I scowl at him now. I've gotten used to his ... whatever it is that makes him him.

"Maybe I should give you a key so you can enter whenever you want," he suggests, turning around and beginning to limp into his house.

I follow him, closing the door behind us and ignoring his overly-blunt words.

"Your sister's gone?" I ask, mentally smacking myself in the face. What if he thinks I was stalking his house and know who was here?

He probably thinks exactly that, because his crystal-grey eyes spin around to focus on me.

"So, that's why you didn't come earlier," he says, not like a question but rather like an inference.

I don't answer, looking around the place that smells like burnt gravy.

"Did something burn around here?" I ask.

Ryan chuckles. "Now you know why I love your food so much," he says, waving a hand towards a bowl of dirt-brown liquid.

I scrunch my nose up in disgust, wishing I actually had brought my chicken-less chicken noodles.

Ryan slumps onto his bed, groaning aloud and squeezing his eyes shut.

"Are you okay?" I ask him instinctively.

He opens his eyes, giving me a drained smile. "Aside from my broken body and complaining stomach, just peachy."

I roll my eyes, walking over to look closely at his face. He's sweating, which is surprising given that he's dressed in a single black shirt and has the heating off. He watches me unblinkingly as I reach out and touch his forehead with my fingers.

"Do you have a fever?" I ask, ignoring the way he's looking at me. His skin is warm, but that might just be because he's watching me with such intensity, I feel heating creeping up my neck.

"Do you have a crush on me?"

It takes me a minute to digest his words.

"What the fuck, Ryan?" I scowl, knowing he's kidding and not at all serious.

His grin widens, making him look damn hot and overly annoying.

"Do you find me hot?" he asks.

I nearly choke. On air.

Can he read my mind or what?

"Don't be insane, alright?" I shake him off.

"Are you attracted to me, Crystal?" His tone has a hint of amusement to it, and I don't understand why he loves getting on my nerves.

"No," I answer unemotionally.

"Liar."

I don't answer, suddenly aware of the positions we're in. He's sitting on the edge of his bed, looking up at me, and I'm standing a foot from him, which is too close for my liking.

"Do I look like I'm attracted to you?" I ask instead, taking a step back to put some distance between us.

Ryan chuckles. "Isn't that how it goes? The bad-boy good-girl trope?"

I half-scoff, half-snort, rolling my eyes.

"Are you actually saying that?" I fold my arms across my chest. "What about me gives you the impression that I'm a good girl?"

"Okay." He looks thoughtful for a moment. "But even bad girls can fall for bad boys. Bad boys are irresistible."

I can't help but let out a laugh. "You're not irresistible."

"Ouch. How about if I do this?" He flexes his arms, rolling up his long sleeves to reveal his muscles. He then looks up at me and winks.

That just ends up making me laugh even more, and I turn around and walk away from his form, not understanding how he can bring out a side of me I thought I'd buried. The Crystal Jeremy killed somehow comes back to life around Ryan -- living, breathing, broken but healing.

I feel a presence behind me and spin around to find myself face to face with a limping Ryan. Gasping, I jump back, glaring at him with venom. He simply smiles in return.

"What if I invade your personal space and get right in your face?" he suggests.

I huff, giving him an exasperated look.

"Okay, what if I smirk?" he says, looking proud of himself as he gets on my nerves.

"That's attractive? On what planet?" I snap.

"Planet teen fiction?" Ryan laughs.

"We're not really teens now, are we?" I point out.

"Nineteen technically is teen." He wiggles his eyebrows.

I smile, and no matter how hard I try, I can't wipe it off my face.

"You're still not attractive, Ryan," I lie, hoping I can pull it off.

"Oh, yeah? What if I --" He raises his hand suddenly, reaching out to me.

And then I do the stupidest thing ever.

I wince automatically, and as if by instinct, I throw up my arms to protect my face. Three years with Jeremy have taught me some mechanisms to save myself; he goes straight for the face, and the bruises don't go away easy. Anywhere else is fine, as it can be hidden by clothes.

'Protect yourself,' my mind yells at me, and I obey.

No pain follows, though, and the silence sinks in through my skin. It takes a moment for my reasoning to catch up with my auto-defense, and I realize I'm not with Jeremy, but with Ryan instead.

And that's when my heart nearly stops.

I lower my hands, slowly opening my eyes and focusing on the face before me. The face with the set jaw, the X-ray gaze, and the blank yet knowing expression. He slowly lowers his own hand, his eyes never leaving my face.

His breathing is heavy, mine shallow.

His eyes are hard, mine wide.

His lips pursed, mine parted.

His muscles rigid, mine slowly relaxing.

His assumptions proven correct, my lies exposed.

.\.|./.

A/N: The cat's out of the bag, huh? How do you think Ryan will react? Also, what are your views about Crystal and Ryan in general?

I know the chapters are shorter but I update often so I hope that makes up for it. Thank you for reading. <3