The
Next Day(the day after Dylan's hospital
release)
Evan:
"Dylan! ANSWER YOUR GODDAMN PHONE!" I yell into the receiver. But he's yet to answer, but I don't know WHY! I can't tell if I've done something wrong or what. The last time I've seen anything about him was back when he was just released from the hospital...Damn, I sound like a little bitch when I carry on like that, even if it's only in my head. At lease it's in my head so nobody hears how much of a conformist bitch I really am...I let out a soft, defeated sigh, "God damn it Dylan...what are you up too? How do you manage to do this to me?"
'God damn...I am so stupid. So very, very stupid.'
I couldn't stop myself from walking out of my house, and toward Dylan's house. If he answered his phone or texts I would NOT be doing this. I wish I could actually make myself believe that, just like how I wish I could turn around and walk back to my house but I can't
do that. I NEED to see my friend, and hell, I was so quick to leave I forgot my
damn cane. I mean, SERIOUSLY? GODDAMNIT!
I remember back in elementary school when Dylan and I first found my original one, then when Stan Marsh became one of us and I gave him my cane, I honestly thought Dyl would flip the shit as soon as he was far away enough. Then a couple of years ago Dylan gave me my new cane since I kinda outgrew the last one, and he was so embarrassed when he gave it to me, it was kinda cute...damn-it I referred to him as cute...again.
I still can't figure out why he ran away from me yesterday, and him avoiding my calls isn't helping. I just hope he's not doing anything to stupid, because the last time he went off on me like that...I shudder at that passing thought.
It's early evening now, and the temperature slowly dropping. The fact just hits me that Dylan and I live on opposite sides of South Park...fuck my life.
I remember all the times Dyl and I would just sit around anywhere that seemed good at the moment and talk, about nothing important most
times.
To him, it probably most likely meant nothing, but to me...it meant a lot actually. It meant somebody actually cared about me, and he's always been my closest friend, and I DO actually care about him even if it didn't always seem that way.
I have always cared...even when we were kids in elementary school. I always knew he'd be there, even if he won't admit to it, and I always thought he cared.
Maybe I had it all wrong. Maybe he never really cared as much as I thought he did. If he did, then he wouldn't have tried to kill himself, right? He would have asked me for help...because even though we don't want to care...we do. Deep down inside we all do care about each other, just like family. Maybe...maybe more than family.
No, no. I can't keep doing that to myself.
Do what though?
Make myself think he might actually feel the same? He's never done anything that should have led me on, so why do I always read into everything? Dyl's always been the same, he never changes…much. He always got the same bored ass look on his face like he's got somewhere better to be, or maybe he might look a little interested in something, but never really...me, so what gave me the idea that he might maybe like me? Fuck. My. Life.
Dylan:
Shit. I've been mad tired ever since I woke up in the hospital. Must be my meds, cause I always thought I was an insomniac…AND who the hell keeps calling? Oh. It's Evan, if I'd known it's been him calling, I would've actually answered the phone...well maybe.
With that thought I drop myself back upon my bed. If whatever Evan had to say was so important he would have stopped by...right? Well maybe not.
I really need to stop worrying about everything so much before I end up like Tweek...crazy son of a bitch.
I know I shouldn't care about him...honestly I truly do know that, but I can't help myself. I can't remember ever really feeling like this about anything or anyone before so I can't help but figure it's the medications doing this to me.
It can't be anything else...can it?