wouldn't it be nice
There is new life in the Murder House.
A man and his teenage son move in, because it's the cheapest house on the market and the kid wants to be in the movies.
His name is Adam Rook and he's done a couple of toothpaste and shaving gel commercials, but because he's young and handsome he thinks he can make it to the small screen, at least.
He's arrogant and immature and completely infatuated with Violet Harmon.
He slept in the master bedroom, and his father took the smaller bedroom, leaving the chalkboard walled one vacant.
He first saw her in the guest room, writing "Hello" in big, loopy letters on the chalkboard wall. She turned around and gave him a big, open smile, not looking guilty in the least.
Adam had pretended to be offended, but he'd been awed by her youthful beauty, her snarky attitude and ice cold hands. She wouldn't tell him where she lived, wouldn't give him a phone number, spurned his advances in every way, and because he was handsome and charming, he wasn't used to this. It only made him want her more.
Tate watched Adam with Violet. He watched them constantly, although he wasn't sure why. It felt like a tiny death every time she smiled at Adam, felt like another bullet in his chest.
He didn't know what he'd do if Adam got the courage up to kiss her. He had big dramatic thoughts of rushing into stop them, of declaring his love and punching Adam's ridiculously handsome face, but the more likely result would be Tate retiring to the basement and crying and beating his head against the wall until he blacked out.
Watching them made him crazier than usual, and he'd go into Violet's room when she wasn't there and write everything he'd ever wanted to say to her on the chalkboard.
He'll never love you like I do
Forgive me
Love me
Choose me
He's got stupid hair
Please don't
I'm sorry
His white scrawls would cover the blackboard completely and for an instant he'd feel better. Once or twice he'd even walked out of the room with all of his thoughts still there on the blackboard. He'd come back in within five minutes and erased it all so that she would never know.
That day, he'd waited and watched for her to come back to her room. She'd come out of Adam's room laughing, him asking her to stay, to sleep in his bed.
Tate's head was pounding with jealousy and rage and in his head he begged her not to listen, not to stay. He really couldn't imagine standing in the corner of Adam's room all night, watching them spoon and raging and raging in unknown silence. God forbid anything more than spooning happened.
She went back in her room, spent a few minutes looking at the chalkboard.
Tate's heart sped up as she examined it, but eventually she went to her bed, popped in her earbuds. Tate left her be, glad she hadn't seen any trace of his pathetic chalkboard ramblings.
Violet felt him leave like a cold rush. She had wished him away but he was always there. Watching, waiting. She went to the chalkboard, slowly, making sure he was gone.
She picked up the nub that was left of her chalk and smiled.