Selfish Evan

"What the fuck did you do?!"

The words hit Evan like a slap. One second ago, Stacy had been smiling at him. Running to him. Calling him baby. Looking at him like he was the centre of her universe.

Now she was staring at him in outright horror.

For a moment, all he could do was blink. Had it worked? Had it actually worked? Madame Ruth's potion. The weird black liquid. The warning. The chaos. Had it brought Stacy back?

Hope surged through him.

"Stacy?" he asked cautiously.

Wide blue eyes locked onto his.

"Are you... you know..." A nervous laugh escaped him. "You again?"

"Of course I'm fucking me, you idiot."

The venom in her voice was so familiar it almost made him smile. Then she kept going.

"Why would you do that?" she demanded.

Hands flew into the air.

"Why the FUCK would you do that?"

The smile vanished.

"What? The potion?"

She let go of his arm as though touching him offended her.

"Of course I mean the potion, stupid."

Frustration radiated off her.

"Haven't you learned anything? The last one wrecked everything, and now you've gone and done it again!"

Confusion replaced the hope. Evan stared. This wasn't how this conversation was supposed to go.

"But you were..." He struggled to find the words. "I don't know. Different."

"Different?"

"You asked me to stop you."

A helpless gesture escaped him.

"You asked me to keep an eye on you. You wanted me to tell you when things were getting bad."

"They weren't getting bad!"

The **** of the outburst made him flinch.

"They were getting better!"

Silence followed. A terrible silence. Because Evan suddenly wasn't sure who was right anymore.

"I thought you weren't yourself," he said quietly.

"I wasn't."

The answer came immediately.

"But that doesn't mean I wanted it gone."

Tears were already forming in her eyes.

"I was happy, Evan."

The anger cracked. Raw pain spilled through.

"Happy."

Another tear rolled down her cheek.

"For the first time in my entire life."

His stomach dropped.

"Stacy..."

"No."

A shaking hand pointed at him.

"No. You're going to listen."

Every trace of softness vanished from her expression.

"Do you have any idea what it felt like?" She laughed bitterly. "Of course you don't. Everything, for the first time in my life, made sense. And you took it away."

"I'm sorry," Evan said, taking an involuntary step backward.

"Stop apologizing."

Tears streamed down Stacy's face as she pushed herself upright.

"But I am sorry."

"Every second word out of your mouth is 'sorry'. Sorry doesn't fix anything."

"I was trying to help."

"Help?" she laughed bitterly. "Help?"

The word came out like an accusation.

"You know what you did? You took the happiest I've ever been in my entire life and decided I shouldn't have it."

"Stacy..."

"No. You don't get to interrupt."

Anger radiated off her now. Real anger. Familiar anger. The kind he'd known for years. For some reason, seeing it hurt more than he expected.

"I was happy," she said, her voice cracking. "Actually happy. No anxiety. No insecurities. No second-guessing every decision. No wondering if I was good enough. For the first time in my life, I knew exactly who I was."

A shaky hand jabbed toward him.

"And because your stupid moral compass couldn't leave it alone, now that's gone."

"I thought you'd want to be yourself."

"I was myself."

The answer came instantly. Then her expression twisted.

"Or at least I was happier than this version."

Silence settled between them.

"I was protecting you."

"Protecting me from what?" she demanded.

Another step carried her closer.

"Being loved?"

"No."

"Being wanted?"

"That's not what this is."

"How do you know?"

Evan opened his mouth. Nothing came out. Stacy laughed again. A harsh, broken sound.

"God."

She wiped at her eyes.

"Do you know what the worst part is?"

He didn't answer.

"You could have just let it happen."

The words came out quietly. Almost sadly.

"You're nineteen, Evan."

Another laugh.

"Most guys your age would've taken one look at the situation and stopped asking questions."

Frustration surged through her. Both hands flew up in a helpless gesture.

"I was throwing myself at you."

The memory clearly embarrassed her.

"And what did you do?"

Her stare locked onto his.

"You said no."

"Because you asked me to."

"Because you're selfish."

The accusation hit him harder than he expected.

"What?"

"You heard me."

Fresh tears gathered in her eyes.

"You weren't protecting me. You were protecting yourself."

"That's not fair."

"No?" she snapped.

A hand pressed against her chest as though trying to contain everything she was feeling.

"You got to decide what was best for me."

Her voice trembled.

"You got to decide that my happiness wasn't real enough."

"Stacy..."

"You got to decide. Not me."

The room fell silent. For a long moment neither of them moved. Finally Stacy pointed toward the front door.

"Get out."

Evan blinked.

"What?"

"Get. Out."

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"I don't care."

"You're upset."

"No kidding."

Another pointed gesture toward the door.

"Leave."

"Stacy..."

"Now."

The anger in her voice left no room for argument. Reluctantly, Evan moved toward the front entrance. Every step felt wrong.

Behind him, Stacy folded her arms and stared at the floor. The moment the front door opened, however, Evan felt a change in the air, a sense of panic. He turned his head slightly, and saw an anxious look on her face.

"Wait."

Evan turned fully.

Stacy's face took on a look of hatred, not of him, but of what she was about to say.

"You need to be back before bed."

Confusion crossed his face.

"What?"

Colour flooded her cheeks.

"Before bed," she repeated.

"Why?"

She didn't need to answer. He knew exactly what she was afraid to say. Because I need you. Because sleeping without you terrifies me. Because I don't know what will happen. Because despite everything, part of me still wants you there.

Her jaw tightened.

"You know why. Don't make me say it."

"I'm won't."

"Good."

Several seconds passed. Then, through clenched teeth:

"Go. Just... be home before bedtime."

The request sounded dangerously close to pleading. That only made her angrier.

"I don't care where you go. I don't care what you do. But be back."

Another pause.

"Please."

Evan stared at her. For a moment she thought he might refuse. Instead he nodded.

"I'll be back."

Something inside her loosened.

Not enough.

But enough.

"Fine."

The door closed.

Stacy stood alone in the silent house.

Then she walked back to the dining room, sank into the chair farthest from the Encyclopedia of Evan, and buried her face in her hands.

She hated him.

She hated what he'd done.

And somehow, impossibly, she still needed him to come home.