Disclaimer: I own nothing.
A/N: For bisounours, via the Annual Fic Exchange. It's rather short, but I did what I could with it.
"You seem … different," he says, trying to be careful. It's so blasted unclear why this is going on or what it is that's happened.
"What do you mean by 'different'?" she snaps. It seems, at least in her mind anyways, that he might be going a little mental. It wouldn't surprise her, at least.
"That's the problem – I have no idea." He's panicking a bit, until he catches why things seem … odd. A faint scent of flowers seems to be coming from her direction, and he's not certain what to think.
"Is there something wrong with you?" This isn't like him, so she's starting to worry a bit, and she almost NEVER does that. Rational behavior, yes, irrational panic, no.
"Not that I know of," he replies. If he could come up with a way of explaining things, he would, but of course he can't.
"I think you might possibly be sick," she says, desperate to find out what's wrong with him. He NEVER acts like this. She's known him for a little less than half her life, so she of all people would know.
"No, it's … you."
"No, it isn't. Please, just … leave me alone. I think you've gone mental this time – what could I have to do with this?"
"It's your…" he starts to explain, but she cuts him off.
"It has NOTHING to do with me, so just … go away, clear?"
Later that day, alone and taking a shower, she reflects on what she's done so far that day. Does she regret telling him off? Of course not – friends do stuff like that all the time, it's just that this was … different.
