Only four more chapters after this one until the end! Thanks for sticking with me up 'til this point :D Also, to all those saddened by the fate of Matt's goggles... Don't worry; they get a proper send-off XD

Suggested Listening: "Blindsided" - Bon Iver

Feel It in My Bones

~Blindsided~

The next morning found me standing on Wedy's front porch, waiting for someone to open the door after I had rang the doorbell. It was nowhere near cold outside, but I had goose bumps and my stomach was unsettlingly queasy.

A minute later I saw the curtain move slightly, and then the door swung open. My stomach gave an uncomfortable jolt.

Wedy was there in the doorway, looking at me calmly – yet I couldn't meet her eye. Instead, I examined her appearance. She was wearing no makeup today, her hair was brushed but not elaborately done, and she was wearing a plain, grey t-shirt and blue jeans.

For some reason, this made her all the more intimidating.

She was real. She was vulnerable. Most of all, I feared that one of the irrational worries that popped up in my head whenever I kissed her could come true – but not in the way I had expected.

I could break her.

"You're not wearing your goggles," she said, interrupting my train of thought. It was only then that I noticed that she was examining me, too. "And you're early."

I felt my face heat up and looked down at my shoes, shoving my hands in my pockets. I scuffed my sneaker on the concrete. "Well, you know me, always trying to make a good impression." As soon as I said it, I winced.

Wedy just stared at me with a look that I couldn't place. Then, she opened the door wider and gestured for me to come in. Once I was inside, standing opposite her in the foyer, she shut the door. Immediately, all the normal outside noises were hushed and we were left in silence.

She was still looking at me – or rather my eyes – with particular interest.

"You look better this way," she murmured. When I didn't reply, she turned quickly, tossing an excuse me over her shoulder, and went down the hallway that I knew led to the kitchen.

I decided to wait there for her in the front hall, listening to the slow tick tock of the grandfather clock sitting in the adjacent parlor. Peeking through the balustrade topping the half-wall next to me, I peered into the living room. I had only been in that room once, but my eyes immediately sought the objects that had made the greatest impression on me.

Against the far wall sprawled a large stone fireplace. Above it hung a trophy deer head; its antler span was quite impressive, but its fake, glass eyes gave me the creeps. On the side of the room that was blocked from my view by the staircase, I knew there to be a wall covered in family photos and an old, decrepit piano that no-one in Wedy's family actually played. In the far corner, locked away in a display case, was an antique shotgun.

Catching sight of it, I grimaced.

It had just occurred to me that maybe I had worse things to worry about than what Wedy might do to me.

I had only seen Wedy's dad twice. The first time was at an awkward family dinner that Wedy had invited me to so I could meet her parents. The first thing he did after greeting me at the door was to offer to show me his gun collection. When I had predictably blanched, he had clapped me on the back and said that I had nothing to worry about as long as I treated his daughter right. Wedy had berated him, saying that she could take care of herself just fine, and the subject was dropped. Then at dinner, the subject of guns was brought up again when Wedy's father, in an attempt to be friendly (which I believe was encouraged by Wedy's mother by the way she had been shooting him looks throughout the dinner), invited me to come to the shooting range with him. I had politely declined, joking that the closest I had ever come to handling a gun was first-person shooter games.

Mr. Kenwood had not been amused.

The next time I saw him was on one of the days that Wedy had invited me over to hang out with her and Halle in the basement. He was in the living room watching soccer on the big-screen TV with a guy that he introduced to me as a co-worker (later, when I had asked Wedy about it, she told me that her father worked as a prosecutor; a fact that had done nothing to put my worries at ease). As soon as he had seen me pass by the living room he had called to me, "Well, if it isn't my favourite nerd!"

Of course, I'd walked over and said hello, fully intending to make inane conversation until he tired of toying with me and let me go. Instead, he invited me to sit down and passed me a beer.

At first, I had been confused, but his plan soon revealed itself to me. As the game went on, he kept asking my opinion on what was going on, trying to trip me up by exposing my lack of knowledge about the sport. Of course, I knew enough from watching Mello play and being a natural-born strategist (except when it comes to relationships), but I humoured him. That is, until he began to get on my nerves. Finally, after hearing both him and his friend yelling at the screen for what I believed to be no good reason, I had put on my most pretentious, smart-alecky tone and broke down the current play bit by bit as it was happening on the screen.

When their team scored, I got up, passed my empty beer bottle back to them, and said, "Apparently, video games are good for something."

As I was leaving the room, I had heard his friend snicker. "He got you there."

Again, Mr. Kenwood had not been amused.

So, given the current situation, I'd say if Wedy doesn't get to me first, there's a good chance I'll either be prosecuted for a crime I didn't commit, or I'll be shot, stuffed, and made into a foot stool for Wedy's father to use on a leisurely Sunday afternoon while he peruses the newspaper.

Just then, Wedy came back into the room and motioned for me to follow her, and I left this horrifying thought behind.

I asked as I went up the stairs behind her, "Your parents aren't home, are they?"

"They're at work." Wedy stopped on the landing and quirked her eyebrow at me. "Why?"

Realizing what that must have sounded like considering we were headed up to her room, I promptly turned red. "'Just making conversation."

"Sure…"

When we were inside her room, Wedy sat down on the edge of her bed. She didn't make it clear where I should sit – or whether I should sit at all, for that matter – so I chose to stand. I took in my surroundings nervously; I'd never actually been in her room before.

There were photos of her and her friends put up all over the walls; I spotted Halle, Kiyomi Takada, and Naomi Misora in them quite frequently and Misa occasionally. To my surprise, I spotted Mello once or twice, but I quickly realized that the photos were from parties that Mello had gone to with Halle, and anyone else who'd gone with them would have those pictures, too. A shelf ran the full length of the opposite wall and it was full of trophies: basketball, baseball, gymnastics – you name it. Over in the corner was a desktop computer that looked practically prehistoric, which I knew that she didn't use very often from how many times she had complained about it being so slow. Finally, my eyes fell upon a photo strip tacked up above her desk that Wedy and I got from a photo booth just for fun the first night I took her out.

The queasiness came back full force, and I reluctantly opted to sit in the desk chair. I heard the ticking of a clock again and quickly realized there was one behind me.

Now that I was facing her, I became aware once more that she had been watching me. This time, I met her eyes. I clasped my clammy hands together in my lap and waited for her to break the damnable silence.

Just when it got to the point of unbearable, she did.

"Matt, I'm breaking up with you."

My reaction was to stare at her blankly. I didn't know if it was my imagination or not, but the ticking of the clock seemed to get louder.

And Wedy, well, she looked like not even a bomb could shake her.

She continued, "It's not because you've been ignoring me the past few days; it's because I have a pretty good idea why you were ignoring me. I could be wrong, but even so, I can't deal with this insecurity anymore. I can't be in a relationship with someone that's constantly putting me in last place."

My ears began to ring. I clamped my hands together tighter to stop them from shaking. I forced myself to hold her gaze.

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

Her cool and collected demeanor slipped for a second as her face contorted in a mixture between pain and rage, but she quickly ducked her head to hide her emotions from my view.

"Tell me what happened," she said, looking at the carpet, and the rough edge to her voice was unmistakeable.

I tried a few times to get it out, but all that happened was that my lips shaped the words uselessly, without sound. She looked up, and as soon as I saw the tears on her face, the words came out clearer than I ever thought they would.

"I kissed him."

I had expected her to react violently, but she did the exact opposite. She lowered her head again and rolled her shoulders in as she wrapped her arms around herself, almost like she was pressing tight on a wound to stop it from bleeding. When I saw this, I got up without thinking and went over to comfort her.

She slapped my hand away before I could place it on her shoulder. "Get out."

I stared at her for a few long moments before I did what she said.

I took the stairs two at a time, my tongue feeling thick in my mouth as I heard my blood roaring through my ears.

And the clock, louder still.

Tick, tock. Tick, tock.

Right as the clock struck twelve, I burst out through the front door and made it as far as the hedgerow separating their yard from the neighbour's before I threw up.

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

On my way back home, my phone started ringing. It took me awhile to get it out of my pocket because my hands were still shaking. Finally, I succeeded, and I flipped it open and pressed it to my ear.

"Hello?" My voice was a little hoarse, so I cleared my throat.

There was a pause before I heard a monotone, "Hello, Matt."

Realizing who it was, I put on an artificially bright tone. "Oh, hey, Near. What's up?"

"Last I checked, the ceiling," he droned, and I could imagine him curling a lock of his white hair around a finger. "Although, if you mean figuratively, then very little. That is why I called you. Now that we are talking, however, a matter has come to my attention. Why does your voice sound so peculiar?"

I stopped walking altogether. "Well… I'm… kind of sad right now."

"I see… Is it Mello?"

I snorted and then chuckled despite myself. "You're not the first to ask that, you know. 'Probably not the last either."

"Hm…"

"You're right, though. That is part of the reason why I'm sad. Although, it could just as easily be due to the fact that we both lost our jobs yesterday."

"Don't kid yourself, Mail. We both know you hated that job."

"Yeah," I said, smiling. I started walking again, picking up the pace.

"If Mello is only part of the problem, might I inquire as to the rest?"

I sighed and gave him a brief summary of the past few days. "I just left Wedy's house. She broke up with me. In a way, I'm relieved… But then I remember the look on her face, and I hate myself."

"Hm…" was his response again.

"'Hm' what?" I asked. "That sounded like a very loaded hum."

"Oh, nothing, really… 'Just that I hate being right all the time."

"Right about what?"

There was another pause. Then, "Mail, I believe it would serve you well to quit feigning ignorance. You have already come this far; don't regress now. Goodbye."

He hung up.

I pulled my phone away from my ear and looked at it in disbelief. Shaking my head, I stuffed it back in my pocket.

Near was always an awkward person to talk to on the phone.

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

My mom was still at work by the time I got home, so I busied myself by cleaning my room.

No, seriously.

I mean, the parts that Watari was sending over weren't going to arrive at my house until tomorrow, so I couldn't work on my car, and video games were strangely unappealing after the emotional rollercoaster ride I'd just been on…

And, to be truthful, I was getting sick of the mess.

After I was done putting away everything and vacuuming, I lugged my backpack downstairs to the kitchen and set my laptop up at the table. That's where my mom found me when she came home from work an hour later.

"What are you doing?" she asked, looking over my shoulder.

"'Looking for jobs." I angled the screen so she could see.

She shook her head and walked to the other side of the kitchen. "You are allowed to take a break between stressful events, you know."

I shrugged.

She opened the fridge door, only to shut it two seconds later. "Darn it. I forgot to get groceries." She turned around with a sly grin on her face. "Care to come with me to the store?"

Shutting my laptop, I heaved a dramatic sigh. "If I must."

She tossed me the keys and I followed her out the door.

"Maybe I can pick up an application while we're there," I said once we were in the car.

My mom just rolled her eyes and smiled.

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

Right as we turned into the dry goods isle, my mom suddenly asked, "So how did things go today?"

I moved the cart over to the side so that we wouldn't get in anyone's way. "Not very well… I think I really hurt her."

"Matt, that was bound to happen," she soothed, putting a hand on my shoulder. "You did the right thing."

I looked down at my shoes. "Just because it was the right thing doesn't mean that I feel any better for doing it."

She opened her mouth to reply, but was cut off by a clamour of voices. Both my mother and I turned our heads to identify the source of the noise.

Just then, I spotted Mr. Keehl rounding the corner. Following right behind him was Mello. At the sight of him, I felt like my heart jumped into my throat.

"Alright, your mother wants pasta for her birthday supper this year," I could hear Mr. Keehl saying as he read the list in his hand aloud. "Miranda and Rosette will go get the sauce and the Caesar salad; please remember to check the expiry date on the salad. Nicolai will pick out the pasta. Mihael, you'll go get the candles and pick out a birthday card since you haven't gotten yours yet."

"What are you going to do, Dad?" Rosette piped up.

"I'm going to order the cake."

Miranda sniffed. "Make sure you order chocolate or Mihael's going to be complaining the whole way home."

During this conversation, Mello had his thumbs hooked in the pockets of his hoodie, looking at the contents of the shelves with apparent disinterest. When he heard Miranda's comment, his eyes slid directly to her. "I don't give a fuck what you get."

With that, Rosette erupted into giggles and Mello's dad reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose. Nicolai just stood there, looking acutely uncomfortable.

"Language, Mihael," Mr. Keehl said, sounding very tired.

The group dispersed, leaving just Mello and Nicolai left in the isle. Mello said something to Nicolai that was quiet enough that I couldn't hear it before he turned around.

There was nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. His eyes met mine and I tightened my grip on the shopping cart subconsciously, wishing I still had my goggles.

He started to walk towards me.

My heart rate sped up as the distance between us began to close.

Oh God, what am I going to say? What the hell am I going to do? He's almost here! He's–

He walked right past me.

Unsure of how to respond to such an anticlimactic ending to our encounter, I just stood there – frozen.

"Oh, dear," my mother said.

Nicolai approached a shelf nearby and grabbed a box of fettuccine noodles. He pushed up his glasses and rubbed the back of his neck, looking just as ill at ease as before. I hazarded a guess that he was in conflict as to whether he should acknowledge our presence or not.

The seconds dragged on.

Finally, he turned around and gave us an attempt at a smile that turned out more as a grimace. "Hi."

My mom waved. I did nothing.

He turned on his heel and exited the aisle, turning in the same direction that his brother had gone.

I finally let the tension out of my shoulders and took a deep breath through my nose, closing my eyes. I felt my mom put her hand on my shoulder again, but this time I shrugged it off.

"Let's just get this done and go home." I started off with the cart, leaving her to follow me.

I never did pick up that application.