I was greeted with Marie's accusing eyes once Little Red spread the news to her. How utterly frustrating that was. I did my best to avoid her, but by day three, she actually bothered to come see me before school. I can't much avoid her when school was my required destination.

I know she cares. I do. But it's not that, it's the fact she tries to get me to do something about my habits that irks me. They are mine, and hurt no one but myself. I'm not about to end my life, as lovely as that would be. No, in my more logical frames of mind, I'm quite aware of how that would affect the world around me. For instance, Marie might follow suit, and if there's anyone one else I care about in this shit stain called life, it's her. Or, worse yet, I'd leave her as broken as myself, and that simply would not do. I'm not that cruel, as much as I pretend to play the game.

Mother...she...I'm afraid she wouldn't be allowed at my funeral. No, I'm not saying I wouldn't permit it, more-so that Father wouldn't. Spiteful cretin, he'd likely get some entertainment out of the drama she'd cause at the gates. It would not do to give him any form of joy. I'd rather continue to live in his resentment and make him regret my birth. If I have to bear my imperfect existence, he can do so as well.

Still...there are times. Times like this, as I sit on the floor next to Father's exercise machine, my hand gently nudging the pedal...hearing it make that terrible sound that it should never, ever make. These times, where I occasionally consider leaving this world before he makes it that much worse.

You see, fitness is yet another thing he finds completely useless for me to partake in. And yet, it gives my mind something to focus on, the burning a distraction much like the cuts, but much less violent. So I rebel, and use his precious piece of machinery nightly for the sake of...well, what else but staying fit? I hide the evidence well. I ensure it's spotless, the position exact, not a single imprint betraying my presence. There are many things I hide from him; I've become an expert at masquing almost all things. I rarely, if ever, messed up.

But, tonight, I definitely messed up.

I've been sitting here, legs splayed one side, a hand holding me up from the carpet, for...perhaps ten minutes now, and I've been pondering all the things I could do. All the things he might do. A dreadful waste of time, I assure you. My mind had come to one possible solution, but it was not something I wished to do. No, I would rather slit my wrist and bleed myself just enough such that I would not wake to my Father's knocking. But that's foolish to even think of; he has the key to my room. Childish, that desire. But tempting.

Instead, my mind had decided to remind me of a certain redhead's proficiency in matters such as the one I'm facing. Oh, you've no idea how chagrined I am by this. I could call Maria, but for what purpose? To speak? To share my worries? Perhaps she'd even point me to Kevin as well, noting his skills in fixing that which is broken. A reminder that despite all I know, my ability to put it into use in the real world has been...rather stunted.

I had the paper there, next to me, the one with his number on it. I'd retrieved it in my daze, and I'd left the phone just behind me. I had thought about calling, originally...before I went back to stewing over the issues at hand. Time wasn't going to slow down, however. The issues would remain if I simply sat and did nothing. I knew this, but it wasn't an easy thing to do, to call him. I have to be the strong one. I am someone to be looked up to, respected, or feared. If I am weak, I won't be able to make it, and I could hurt those around me. I have to be strong.

I had to do this, though...I just wasn't certain how I'd manage.

A shaky hand lifted the cordless phone from behind me, my limbs tingling. Rarely did I get anxious these days, but this was my last hope before my Father became my set outcome. I dialed, and my heart skipped along angrily, clashes of cymbals reverberating through my veins.

I held the phone up to my ear, and it rang. Almost three times, before someone picked up.

"Hello?" A cheery, feminine tone. Perhaps his mother.

"Greetings. I was wondering if Kevin was there?" I tried to keep my voice as I did with Father; respectful, not showing any emotion, let alone any fear.

"Oh, of course, is this one of his friends?"

He'd likely prefer death over friendship, but what's a white lie going to do to someone I'll never speak to again? "Yes; is he available at the moment?"

I heard her voice a distance from the phone, yelling her son's name, and then the shaky sound of the phone returning to her cheek, "He'll be right down."

"Thank you," I hoped I could drop the vocal façade soon. I'd had too much excitement already this evening, I had no desire to play the game of masques for any longer than need-be. Just in case I had to play it again for Father.

The silence on the line was interrupted by muffled sounds; the phone must have been set down. I heard it slide off wherever it had been put.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Kevin," I dropped all formality right then, I couldn't fake it. The anticipation of the call, the anxiety of this evening, it was a lot for me. He already feared me as it was; I did not need to try any harder. It'd do nothing but tire me.

"...Eddward?" A quiet, muffled sound, and his mother's voice again. Movement. He was taking the phone to another room, I assumed. "Sorry, had to go upstairs," no, really, Kevin? I had no idea, "i-is something wrong?"

"Nothing that cannot be fixed. But if it remains broken, the consequences will soon be dire. Does that not sound fascinating, mon cher?" I spoke straight from my conscious thoughts, and I was not tweaking my words to purposefully sound malevolent. I was exhausted. I truly, utterly could not play this game. How the mighty fall to the simplest things.

"Wai-wait, did I break something? Are you threatening...w-what's this about?" He sounded panicked. I could almost have smiled at the irony.

"Ah, if you had been the one to break it, Little Red, there would be little issue. No, it was I who was at fault, and I who shall dread the coming night. Have you ever known that feeling, that fear of what the evening holds, when the Monster comes home and passes judgement?"

I could hear a sharp breath, "What are you talking about?! Did you...wait wait wait, alright, what's going on? What did you break?"

I laid down on the floor, an arm under my chin as I let my heart calm, "Trust, hopes, dreams...always the rebellious son. But you wouldn't know about that, would you, Red?"

A short silence.

"...So what did you actually break?" I was surprised he was being persistent on this. It was enough to get my mind to speak clearly for him.

"A machine of Father's. One for the proper maintenance of one's anatomy," alright, I admit, I didn't actually try to speak clearly, but I blame Father for the way I speak, to be entirely honest.

"Like an exercise machine?"

"Point to Red."

"So wait...did you want me to...take a look at it? I mean I'm not saying you can't, you're way smarter than me, I just-"

"As true as that is, mon petit, you've practical experience, whilst I only have the knowledge."

A pause.

"...so...are you asking me to..."

"The front door will be unlocked for the next hour, if you so choose. I believe you know where I reside. Adieu."

"Wait, but-"

-click-

I had no desire to continue the conversation. I felt my face heating up as it was. Embarrassment, Marie had explained to me, a blush. I was embarrassed asking Little Red to assist me. But I...I'd rather ask him for help, than face Father.

I saw him enough on the weekends as it is. His ire would only darken the days further.

He still rung the doorbell. Quaint one, he is. I sat up from my useless position on the floor and opened the door for him. He looked...well, as he usually does, to be honest, with a hint more apprehension. I could practically smell the fear, but it was tinged with something else. Curiosity? ...Bravery? More likely foolishness if in relation to me. I allowed him in, silently. He cowered with every step.

I could see his eyes taking in the house. I decided I needed to speak before he walked any further.

"You shall not touch anything in this house but for what you have been permitted to," he looked at me, shocked, but I held firm to what I was saying, "for though you will not suffer the consequences if anything is ajar, I shall not be so lucky. And I shall pass that fate unto you. Now, follow me."

He did, quietly, unquestioningly. I don't believe he stayed silent because he had nothing to say; more than likely he was scared out of his wits. I have that effect on people. It's very good for controlling the situation, as I am apt to do. So many less issues when no one tries to challenge me. Thus, we walked into a room attached to the living room: Father's work room. No one else was ever permitted in here but Father, not even I. Marie avoided it like the plague. And yet, here I was, allowing a foolish, nerdy boy access to the room whose disruption could spell my emotional end.

He was careful, though, I'll give him that. I was about to warn him again, but I had no need to. He stayed along the wall where the machine was, and barely touched the wall as it was. He leaned down, his practiced eyes taking in the entirety of the machine in some strange way I supposed only people with his particular mindset could do. I decided it was best to leave him to it. His hands were much quicker than my own when it came to the machine. Where-as I calculated everything, every risk, his motions were smooth and knowledgeable. I almost envied him. It reminded me of...

I closed my eyes, and listened. Strange as it was, I trusted him not to ruin Father's machine. He feared me, but he didn't loathe my existence, not as Father did. I listened to him deconstruct the delicate machinery, occasionally opening my eyes to see what was causing a sound. He'd brought tools with him; I was surprised I hadn't noticed earlier. But then, my mind was more focused on getting through this evening alive.

Half an hour of leaning against a wall with one's eyes closed can be...exhausting. My eyes tired of being closed, and I begin to feel groggy. However, it was my only option for escape from the memories, as I listened to the melody of metal clinking against metal. His breathing was rather entrancing as well, from time to time.

I heard him sigh in relief. "Alright, done. Whew, you had me all freaked out there, but all it was was-"

"Thank you," I let my eyes flicker open, staring at the carpet at my feet.

He shut up, frozen in time, it seemed. When he finally spoke, it came out as a mumble, "...you're welcome."

My eyes flicked over to his form, standing next to the machinery, one hand against it. His cheeks were a slight shade of red. Few people must have thanked him truly for his services before, seeing as he mostly did it for pure enjoyment, I imagined. It was times like these I wished I could ease the tension in the room with even the subtlest of smiles, but...only Marie would see them. I could not force it any further. It would not come.

"Are you...gonna be okay?" he asked, looking at me with fear. Not fear of me though, no...fear for me.

"Isn't that a question for the ages," I spat out, my voice tinting the room a shade darker.

He seemed a little miffed by my answer, responding, "Just say yes or no. I just...I..." Of course his bravado was no more; Little Red, you are nothing if not predictable.

"Speak up." My voice cut clearly through the silence.

He growled, "I'm not just gonna leave you like this, you know?"

My eyes shut calmly, "Good night, Kevin."

"Don't 'good night Kevin' me. Talk!"

I was surprised by the outburst, doing so much as to turn my head in his direction. He seemed angry at...something. I didn't really care. He had to go.

"How Little Red becomes brave against his Wolf."

"Huh?" he gave me a confused look, but the anger was still there. I had no patience for this. I was tired, the grogginess pulling down at me. The problem was gone, now; I trusted Kevin enough to believe that. And as such, the relief had already washed over me minutes ago. Now all that remained was my aversion to having someone in Father's work room, and my hatred of the fact I'd had to ask for help in the first place.

But...he had come to help.

I decided I at least owed him an answer as well, to this one thing.

"...I'll survive the night, mon cher, don't you fret."

He looked at me disbelievingly, but I think he knew that was the most he was going to get out of me. He sighed, slipping out from between the wall and the machine, passing dangerously close to me. His eyes flicked down to my wrist, and I pulled it back a little. It didn't hurt as much now, unfortunately, but I had no desire to repeat the incident.

"...Alright then," he couldn't meet my gaze, but I kept looking at him. Examining his features. Rarely did I bother to look at him but for his frightened eyes, to examine how to control him. Now, I saw the plush of his cheeks, flared red still from the lingering embarrassment at the situation, the delicate curve of his weak jawline. It was several seconds before my eyes returned to his. Our eyes met, and for once, I wasn't looking through him.

I didn't care for this feeling. It was peculiar.

"Good night, Little Red," I said in hushed tones, and caught my unruly eyes again surveying his face. His lips looked as frail as he. Was it any wonder he was afraid to speak at times? Soft and weak...I recalled Marie's: harsh and broken; wanting and desperate. Were they a reflection of the soul? A window to who we are? If so, then...what do my lips speak of me?

When my eyes returned to his once more, his blush was glowing below them. His gentle, hazel eyes looked at me in confusion. I supposed I'd allowed my eyes linger on his lips far too long for comfort. And...goodness, of all the things I could control, how I wished blushing could be one of them. I did not get embarrassed. Kevin must not see any weakness in me, lest I lose my control over him. His eyes softened, and I saw a hint of a shy smile on his lips. Those treacherous lips...

"...Sleep well, Eddward. I, uh...don't be afraid to call me if you need me again," I'd gone back to my uncaring glare, and he shrunk beneath in, "I'm...just gonna let myself out. Okay? Yeah...I'll...see you in English then, yeah? Yeah. Okay. Right."

When he'd left the room...my lips betrayed a smile. When he locked the door, my brows relaxed. And when I heard his childish, exhausted groan outside of my front door, the smile widened, and I released a breath I'd held.

It came out just a bit too fast. A hushed laugh? Perhaps that's what Marie would call it. Either way, it was my own, and none would ever be the wiser. I fixed the seat of the machine, the pedals shifted back into their position from prior in the day...no sound greeted me. Going to the front door, I locked it, and...I stood there.

Hand against the door, looking out the small window at the top.

I watched him walk in his front door, thinking on the fact that I would not see him again until Monday, most likely. Only Marie, and Father. But not Kevin.

...

Why did I even care?