Rory and Kyle's House

[Kyle Stockholm]

"Rachel," he said, looking to his lap and picking at a thread coming from his shorts. He probably hadn't ever said her name so dryly. Rachel. Why did it hurt so much to say? Because a part of him wished he'd said Trista.

No.

Looking up suddenly, Kyle looked at Trista, his mouth slightly open. "Y'know I uh.. I feel kinda bad talking about her with you now," he said, trying to make sense of this. He thought maybe he was saying this for her benefit, but really it was for him. He'd never thought it would hurt so much to talk about the girl he was dating. It had been fine with Rory.. perfectly fine. But it was just so difficult to keep talking about this with Trista. "I don't wanna make you feel like a third wheel or anything." Well great, that was probably the exact wrong thing to say. He couldn't believe how much he could physically see him hurting her. This was not okay with her, he could tell by the way she was holding herself. Usually she had this mysteriously proud aura about her. But now, and other times he'd seen her sad, she just sort of.. existed. Barely, even. She'd done the same thing when talking about her father and mother back in the forest that night.

Oh.. that night...

He hadn't been thinking about it until now. He hadn't remember the kiss until now. And he hadn't remember how that had made him feel until now. How he'd felt so perfect laying over her, then at her side. How perfectly their lips fit together and their hands, too. But.. it couldn't have been real. Not once in his life had Kyle ever head over heels fallen for a girl. And now that he thought about it, Kyle wasn't even sure he'd ever actually had legitimate feelings. Sure he'd had little crushes here and there, because that was normal. But what he felt with Trista was different.. and that scared him. That scared him a lot and made him think it wasn't real. False. It was all false. It had to be, because he was happy with Rachel. Happy..

He was... happy.

[Trista Kline]

Rachel. Why did that sound so familiar? She thought for a moment, mind scanning over the various faces. Was it… the girl she’d seen more recently? Multi colored hair with beautiful blue eyes? She should’ve known. She should’ve suspected something when she started seeing the female more and more. How hadn’t she noticed the glint in her eyes when she looked at her Kyle? No. He wasn’t hers, never was. Why wouldn’t he fall for a girl like that? She was beautiful and from what she could tell very friendly. She was always smiling and Trista couldn’t ever find a hair out of place. Kyle would be a fool not to fall in love with a girl like that.

He felt bad? She felt awful. “You shouldn’t,” she said offhandedly,” what I think shouldn’t really matter if you truly like her. I support your choices.” That was a lie. She’d lied more in the past 5 minutes then in her entire life. She didn’t want to hear more about the girl that had taken the heart of the boy she was in love with. But if he saw them as friends and nothing more then she’d respect that, she had to. It was odd to think of herself as just a friend, because friends didn’t kiss each other like they had back in the woods. Did any of that even happen? Perhaps it was time to take her mother’s advice and go to the doctor. It had been a while, a checkup might be needed. Things just weren’t clicking in her mind.

Trista used to find comfort in silence, used to find solace, but ever since she’d met Kyle she found the power to speak. She wasn’t afraid of words, not when he was around. So how come she couldn’t find the power to speak out and tell him how she really felt. She knew why. It was because she valued his happiness over her own, and if Rachel made him happy then so be it. “I don’t feel like a third wheel,” she said softly, eyes locked on her lap,” I feel like a supportive best friend.” Being labeled never felt so wrong and she wasn’t sure why. “So, how about that movie?” it was a quick topic change, but she wasn’t interested in a movie.

As she fidgeted in her seat she suddenly stood as if ready to just leave. “I… I’m going to use the bathroom,” she announced, trying to cover up her awkwardness. She only glanced over her shoulder on her way to the restroom. What was she even doing? She could breathe, couldn’t think in that room, not with him in it. She closed the door softly not even bothering to lock it. She wasn’t using the bathroom for its given purpose. She simply stared into the mirror at her own sad reflection. She picked out all her own imperfections before taking in her sad tired eyes. It had been a while since she’d seen them, and it made her heart ache.

She was suddenly feeling ill, everything finally catching up to her. She was leaned over the toilet seat, but there was nothing but hair. For lack of better terms, she was simply dry heaving over the toilet. She felt awful and on the verge of just crying. She tried to be as quiet as possible, not wishing to alert anyone of her current status. She couldn’t stop a few tears from escaping her eyes and her breathe catching in her throat as she fought for air. It was just too much, she needed to get out. She couldn’t be around him right now, not like this. She didn’t want him to see her so small, frail… weak.

[Kyle Stockholm]

When Trista stood and went to the bathroom, Kyle watched her turn the corner before dropping himself onto the couch and laying flat across it. He huffed a bit then turned his face into the cushions. Why did this hurt so bad? There was a never ending need to know why. Just why. It shouldn't hurt so bad to tell your friend that you're dating someone. It should never hurt so bad!

Still on his stomach, Kyle reached back into his pants pocket to find his phone. During the past few minutes, he'd received two texts that he hadn't even felt vibrate. One was from Rory, the other from Rachel. Sighing at them both, he pressed into Rory's message first and snorted at the fact that it was only about arriving in Arizona. Rachel's came next, and it made his heart hurt even more. It was a simple text, a "hey cutie ;]". It took a moment, but Kyle responded with a "sup beautiful" which, honestly, damn near killed him.

On the verge of tears, Kyle stood from the couch and put his hands up behind his head. "I like her, I do, I really do. I wouldn't be dating her if I didn't," he whispered to himself, closing his eyes hard and stomping his foot on the ground. "She's beautiful, she's friendly, she's... she's... fuck."

- - -

About fifteen minutes had passed and Trista had yet to return to the couch. He hadn't even heard any movement; no creaking floor, no flushing toilet, just silence. That scared him. What was wrong? Did he say something so bad that she was hiding from him? He needed to know, so of course, he approached the door and leaned against it ever so gently. Knocking the back of his fist against the paneling, Kyle lifted his face and pressed his cheek to the door. "Tris? Are you alright?" There was no immediate answer.

[Trista Kline]

Her back was now against the wall. She looked up to the ceiling from her position on the floor. Was she a coward to run away to the bathroom? Would he even notice? Surely he was sitting on that couch just dreaming away about Rachel. God, why did this hurt so badly? It was stupid, she was stupid. She felt her phone vibrate and though to ignore it, but anything was better than sitting here in silence. It was just a text from Erik asking how movie night was. Just a friend checking up on her. How was movie night going? It wasn’t a movie night, it was a wakeup call.

She almost didn’t answer, but decided to respond with a ‘it’s fine’. Now she was lying to her friends? Great. She had to leave, to just go. She stood, slowly glancing in the mirror to notice a trail of tears. Quickly with the back of her hand she tried to erase any evidence of it. She couldn’t be in this house. The walls were closing in around her and she couldn’t breathe. Her first instinct was to just leave through the window. She examined the frame and size. The window wasn’t big, but she was small enough. She put the lid down on the toilet and stepped up on it. She unlatched the window and was ready to open it when a voice from the other side of the door was heard.

She froze in her tracks, fingers pressed against the cold surface of the glass. She could be out that window in a second without him knowing, but she couldn’t do that. She couldn’t just run away from him without a word. She didn’t want to face him, but he deserved more than her running away. She stepped off the toilet ashamed of what she had almost done. “I’m fine,” she answered, brushing her hair back into place with her fingers and wiping away a few more stray tears.

A shaking hand opened the door, and moist eyes took in the appearance of the boy she’d fallen in love with. “I think I ate something bad for dinner, or maybe I’m getting sick.” A lie. She hadn’t had dinner. “I think I should go home. I wouldn’t want you to catch anything.” Her arms were crosses as she bit her lower lip. She only had to keep it together until she was out of the house. She could do that much right? She could feel her phone vibrate in her pocket, but she made no motion to grab it. It was hard to concentrate on anything else when she was with Kyle, and maybe that’s why it hurt so much. All she could offer was a fake persona behind a broken smile.

[Kyle Stockholm]

Trista opened the door and Kyle stumbled a bit, having been leaning on it. Gathering himself, he stood before her, head cocked to the side and eyes sad like a puppy as she explained that she wasn't feeling well. A different emotion struck Kyle as he watched her in pain, his heart breaking now because of her well being and not because of his own brain. In fact, he'd almost forgotten what the big deal had been. He forgot why his eyes were so sore and why he had a headache. He forgot everything right then and there because of the very site of Trista's face. Her beautiful and slowly breaking face.

"Are you sure you wanna go home like this? I mean like.. can I get you anything before you go?" he suggest, putting his hands up as if to guide her, but he wasn't sure whether he should touch her. "Tylenol maybe? Or like.. a Tums?" He didn't know what to do. Maybe he should just let her go.

Often it scared Kyle how quickly he went in and out of emotions. One minute, he'd be bawling his eyes out and wrapping his fingers around his wrists as he screamed out silently in pain. But then the next... he'd be as sweet as a butterfly, as naive as a child, offering help to a girl he'd very well just broken in half. But for some reason, this time, his brain was okay with it. Though he might not have consciously realized it, his brain appreciated the break from the torture and the opportunity to reach out. It knew he'd hurt her, and here it was, making up for it.

Funny how his brain had a brain of its own.

"Can I maybe walk you to your car?" One final offer. If she wanted to go on her own, he would let her. But it hurt him to think she might be sick. He wanted to help her. He wanted to take the place of her back in the forest and cradle her demons. Different demons, certainly, but demons nonetheless. And all demons called for cradling. Especially when he'd seemed to have such a power against them.

[Trista Kline]

It was like his mood had changed completely and he was now concentrated on her wellbeing above anything else. She wanted him to do nothing but take care of her, to hold her, to cherish her. But that’s not what he was asking. No medicine or homemade remedy was going to fix a broken heart. She appreciated the gesture, how innocent he was. Would Rachel be able to appreciate things like this? Trista knew the little details of his mind and just how beautiful it was. Could she see into his beautiful brown eyes and read the most fascinating story? It didn’t matter much now. It wasn’t like he was going to suddenly change his mind about the girl he was dating.

She laughed under her breath at just how much he seemed to care. “No, I really should go. I don’t want to be a biohazard in your home,” she joked softly. Home. What was that anymore? She’d thought he was home, but it seemed so empty now. He reached out and for a moment she thought he was going to touch her. She wanted the skin contact, anything. She just wanted him to… to what? Love her. Funny how something aren’t meant to be.

He offered to walk her to her car, how thoughtful. “I took the bus,” she said, fingers gripping her elbows. She didn’t drive much, often preffering to walk whever she needed to go. “I mean, you can walk me to the bus stop if you want.” She just wanted to be with him, even if it hurt. “Or not. It’s pretty cold, I wouldn’t want you to get sick too.” The choice was his, but either way she was leaving. A part of her didn’t want to go. She wanted him to beg her to stay, to make her stay. Couldn’t he see the desperate plea in her eyes? The silent need to be with him? Or perhaps her mind had long gone to linger back on the ombre haired girl with beautiful blue eyes.

[Kyle Stockholm]

"I mean, are you sure you don't wanna just have a glass of Sprite or something and watch a movie with a warm blanket?"

He'd forgotten. Not literally as he didn't have a memory problem. But he'd blocked. He'd blocked it all away. The pain, the tears and the Rachel situation. Right now, he was a blank slate. A blank slate, masked in his own disease of simplicity and bliss. Standing here before Trista, a shaking and sad Trista, Kyle felt strong. And only strong. He felt the need to be her hero, to protect her from what might've been a sickness he couldn't even see. He'd blocked everything that happened before, and now stood with a mask. A smiling mask, one that offered nothing more than his shoulder and, apparently, a glass of Sprite which he wasn't even sure he had but was more than willing to go buy.

"Tell you what. I'll put on a movie, you wash your face with cold water, and if by then you still don't feel good.. I'll drive you home," he offered, a calm look over his face as he smiled slightly. It wasn't him, this wasn't him. I mean, technically, this was his sweet side. This was compassionate and caring Kyle. But it was also a mask. An emotional mask meant to cover and protect his vulnerable heart and mind. Over the years, the true Kyle had become nothing more than a depressed pile of skin and bones. He'd dwell on the little things, experience pure heart break over the bigger things, and drive himself into a suicidal hell hole over what would make even a sane person shed just a single tear. Compassion was something he didn't feel willingly. Triggers in his brain went off when they felt it was necessary. And right now, with a girl he cared about standing before him on the verge of tears, compassion was an easily accessible mask. One he could wear for the moment. One he could wear for the night, even.

He'd forget about everything else.

He could do that for Trista.

"Here," Kyle reached around Trista into the bathroom where the linen closet sat. Opening the little door, he removed a wash cloth and handed it to her. "Wash your face, no more tears, okay? I'll uh.. I'll actually go put on Avengers." Masked smile held high on his lips, Kyle turned from the door and went to the couch where he sat, accidentally sitting atop his phone. He hadn't even noticed it was there. Not much could penetrate the tightness of this particular mask.. It didn't have a single crack in it.

[Trista Kline]

Was he trying to make her stay? She wanted desperately to believe it. Every fiber of her being was clinging on to that little ounce of hope. Her mind was telling her to leave and to get out while she still could, but she was still denying any of this had actually occurred. She pushed the thought of Rachel, such a perfect and beautiful girl, to the back of her mind. Because just like before, it was just the two of them. Perhaps tomorrow she could pretend that nothing had happened, or that she’d dreamed all of this up too. She didn’t even know what was real anymore.

She couldn’t muster the confidence to tell him she was leaving, not when he looked at her like that. Times like this she needed him, more than he’d ever know, but she felt guilty. She knew it was natural for friends to help each other, but she didn’t want to be friends. Friends didn’t hold each other than share a kiss that even the stars couldn’t compare to. But friends could sit together and watch movies, right? If he wanted a friend, she’d be a friend. She’d be anything he wanted, because that’s just who she was. For his sake, she’d sacrifice anything. “Alright,” she agreed after a bit of hesitation.

When he reached to get her a washcloth her heart skipped a beat, some things just didn’t change. He was so close, and she wanted to just reach out and hold him. But it didn’t last longer than necessary as she found a washcloth in her hands. “Tears…?” she asked herself and quickly brought a hand to stop a drop from furthering its course down her cheek. She hadn’t even noticed and she was now extremely embarrassed. She didn’t want him to see her like this, because she wanted him to believe she was strong enough to handle the world. What a delusional little girl she was.

It pained her to see him fake a smile, to fake everything. She could see it in his eyes, and it hurt. She didn’t want him to act like someone he wasn’t around her. Wouldn’t that make her a hypocrite then? Here she was pretending she was perfectly fine with his relationship. She was confusing herself. As he walked away she turned to look back into the mirror where slightly puffy red eyes met her. She soaked the cloth and patted her eyes trying to collect herself. When she cleaned herself as much as she could she walked out of the bathroom. Her eyes glanced at the door but she couldn’t leave.

She walked toward the couch slowly. Where should she sit? What distance would classify her as a ‘friend’? It didn’t seem to matter as she sat right next to him, her side next to his. She needed this, just the simple contact to calm her nerves. Best friends could do that right? It probably would mean nothing to him, though it was the only thing keeping her together. She just wanted him close, but she didn’t know why. Tonight she could pretend he was still hers and that the kiss had been real. Tonight she would pretend her love wasn’t unrequited and that everything was going to be alright.

[Kyle Stockholm]

Kyle had nearly set up the movie by the time Trista took a seat beside him. The closeness didn't bother him, they usually sat this close anyway. But once the menu was coming up on the television, Kyle stood and let out an 'oh!' as he'd forgotten to get her that glass of Sprite. "Sprite," he said, his finger in the air as if reminding himself. Without another word, he turned round the couch and stepped towards the kitchen. Fridge open, he bent down and reached towards the back where the sodas were. Luckily, there were a few bottles of 7Up. That would have to do. Smiling at himself for actually having the drink he'd offered, Kyle turned to go back to the couch but stopped just behind it.

The site of her hair stopped him.

Memories were quick to rush in. Memories of the forest again where he'd run his hand through that hair. She'd seemed like such a closed off person, and not only had she let him kiss her, but she'd let him touch her. Her hair, her face. She let him hold her like nothing else mattered. But no, Kyle. Stop. Stop. Shake away the memories and push them back where they belong. Don't listen to them, they'll break the mask. They'll break what you've built. Control them.

Forget them.

As if possessed, Kyle started for the couch again and caught his hip on the corner of the arm. It barely seemed to bother him, though, as he just continued on and sat beside Trista. "Here," he said with a soft smile and a soft tone. "It'll settle your stomach. Does with me, anyway," he added, looking to her eyes for no more than a split second before turning to look at the screen. He pressed play.

[Trista Kline]

What was she even doing? Trista didn’t know anymore, and she wondered why she hadn’t just left when she had the chance. The pain had dulled, and cold acceptance was dawning on her. Who was she kidding? She couldn’t accept any of this. She was in pure denial of it all. Maybe if she just sat on this couch she could pretend the whole thing never happened. A lot of that had been happening lately; pretending and lying. It didn’t feel right trying to be someone she wasn’t. She never did this before, always choosing silence to hide behind. Yet here she was, hiding behind words that weren’t her own.

It took her by surprise when he suddenly remembered to get her a drink she didn’t really need in the first place. She wasn’t actually sick, and it had only been an excuse to leave, which she hadn’t taken. She wished she had, and maybe she could’ve spared herself the extra pain. It bothered her that he was a completely different person right now. She didn’t need to be babied, though a part of her tried to reason that it was actually compassion. This wasn’t the Kyle she’d fallen in love with. Here was a boy hiding behind the mask that he thought she wanted. She didn’t want any of this. She wanted the real Kyle, the one back in the woods.

Just the idea that he felt the need to put on a fake persona hurt. Had she really become such a stranger that he felt the need to act like one around her. Why had he locked away that beautiful mind of his? Was she the cause of all of this? Or maybe this was just how friends were meant to be treated. She’d been so foolish to think that he’d simply fall in love with her and they’d have their happy endings. She’d learned over the years that there was no such thing as happy endings- never. The little girl inside her that had slowly emerged over the course of knowing Kyle had locked herself away. She was slowly retreating back into the broken person she once was.

She needed to just forget about that night in the woods. She had given herself to him without actually doing it. Emotionally and mentally she’d let him take her away. She let him do things she never let anyone do. She let him touch her face, even run his hands through her hair. It was kind of sad of that night had meant the world to her, and it hadn’t meant a single thing to him. Not a single thing.

“Thanks,” she said softly, grabbing the soda and holding it in her hand. She didn’t really need it, and she wasn’t a big fan of carbonated beverages, but she didn’t want to be rude. She took a few sips to play her part in the scheme of things. It burned her throat and she couldn’t understand how people drank it regularly. She set the drink down on the table not wanting to hold it any longer. It showed her hands were still shaking, and that bothered her. When the movie started, Trista found she couldn’t concentrate on what was on the screen. She felt exhausted after the night’s events, and could slowly feel herself nod off. She was fighting desperately to stay awake through red eyes.