The blue clothes with the blue, the black with the black... maybe I only do this to distract myself from my messed up life? I don't think it's really been working.

When my closet is reorganized, I collapse onto my bed. I know I told Frank I'd go down and watch that movie with him, but I'm exhausted. Physically and mentally. I'm staring at the ceiling, my fingers running over my ribs, and ignoring the hunger gnawing at my insides, and that's when I hear a light knock on my bedroom door.

I sit up quickly, too quickly, and my head spins, black spots dotting my vision. I fall back down on my bed. I wait a few seconds then call, "Come in?"

"Hey Evie." It's Frank.

"Hi." I rub my eyes and stand up. "I- I was just coming back down."

"Take your time," he says gently. "We can stay up here for a bit and talk if you want."

I sit down on my bed again. "Okay," I say, hoping that my nervousness isn't seeping into my voice.

Anyone suggesting "a talk" sends a shiver up my spine. Everything I've done— during this week specifically— flashes through my mind. I've skipped school three days in a row, hung out with three strangers, high school dropouts, eaten almost nothing at all. Is he suspicious? No, he can't be. No one knows about all this.

He takes a seat in the black chair in the corner.

"What are we gonna talk about?" I ask, pulling the sleeves of my hoodie over my hands. A nervous gesture I've recently adopted.

"Whatever you want," he says, but I know there's no way he came up here to have a casual conversation about nothing in particular.

"If there's something you want to say or ask me, just do it." I didn't even plan on letting that slip from my mouth, but honestly, to think up a lighthearted conversation topic at this moment seems impossible.

He blinks, taken aback by my bluntness, but get's over it quickly. "Well," he says slowly, "Gee's really worried about you, you know?"

"Why would he be worried?" I ask, but even to my own ears it sounds like a ridiculous question. I'm fully aware of how I must've looked just earlier, but dishonesty and denial seem to be the only things I'm good at these days. I have, however, given up on my denial about my issues surrounding food. I have a problem I'm not intending to fix just yet. I'll be fine for a little while longer. Just until I get to where I need to be.

"He just wants you to be alright. You haven't been yourself recently, Eve. You seem more..." he pauses, seeming to choose his words carefully, "tired."

"Oh, thanks," I say sarcastically, crossing my arms. "I know I look like shit, anything else?"

"No, no! I just mean—" he sighs, and covers his face in his hands, takes a deep breath, then goes on. "Judging by whatever just happened downstairs you don't seem alright."

"Well I am, okay? I'm alright." I didn't mean to get defensive, but that's how it came out. They— he and Gerard— are inching closer to finding out my secret, uncovering everything I've been hiding for so long now. That scares me, so I need to put up walls. More walls.

Frank hesitates for a second. "Okay," he says. "Okay. I'll back off."

"Thank you."

"But you can always talk to me if you're ever not alright."

"I knew you'd say that. You always say that. And Gee too, but..." I sigh. But you don't really care. No one does. Not really. they all have more important things to think about than me and I think it's better off that way. It'll hurt less when I finally leave. Give up and run away, do something stupid and get myself killed, or...

Wordlessly, Frank gets up and crosses the small space between us and wraps me in a hug. I drape my arms around him halfheartedly. "I'm not lyin' to you. I wouldn't do that, would I?"

"I don't know," I say quietly. I bunch up the ends of my sleeves tighter in my fists. I feel like I'm going to cry again, but I'm sick of crying. I never used to cry. Now I'm weak and fucked up and an even bigger burden than ever. "I've been lied to before."

He hugs me more tightly. "Not anymore. Not with Gee. Whatever happened in the past, it's over, and you're safe now. You're not gonna get hurt anymore."

"You can't control that."

I've never seen such a sincere look on anyone's face before Frank lets go and take a step back, staring into my eyes that are now shining with tears. Tears that I refuse to let fall. "You're right. But dammit Eve, I'm gonna try really fuckin' hard."

I take a deep breath and blink quickly. I'm not gonna cry again. "Th-thanks, Frankie."

He gives me a wide smile, the one that would usually make me smile right back, and gestures to the door. "Wanna go back down now?"

"Um, can we stay here for a bit? If that's okay?" I ask timidly, not wanting to face Gerard again just yet.

"'Course, Eve, I like talking to you."

Likely story.

We take our seats again, where we always sit when it's just the two of us. We haven't done this in a while, though. And I've never really had these types of conversations with Mikey and Ray. That's what leads me to believe that maybe they don't like very much, or at least not as much as I've grown to like them.

"So," I say awkwardly.

"So," Frank says back. "What have you been up to? We haven't talked much lately."

"Um, well..." Nightmares. Dizzying amounts of exercise. Grieving. Definitely not school. I glance around my room til my eyes land on the book on my nightstand. "I guess I've been reading a bit." I take the book and hold it up to him like he did with the movie case earlier: Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban.

"Right on." He nods approvingly. "I've heard it's really good."

"Yeah, it is. I bet Rosa would've liked it," I say, knowing he knows who I'm talking about. "I would've liked to read it to her."

With a sympathetic smile he says, "And I'm sure she would've loved that."

"She always liked listening to me read." I go on. "She never had parents to read her bedtime stories. Well, I didn't either..."

At that, Frank stands up. "Hold on a sec," he says. He leaves my room and I hear him go downstairs, then his and Gerard's muffled voices. In no time at all they're both in my room.

"What are you—"

"We're gonna read to you." Frank cuts me off.

"W-what?"

"Come here, Eve." Gerard says. He sits on my bed and pulls me into his lap. Franks sits next to him and grabs my book.

"Chapter eleven, The Firebolt," Frank reads, opening the book to where I last placed my bookmark.

"Wait." I halt him by holding up a hand. Everything just happened so fast. I was just talking to Frank about Rosa and now... "You're really just gonna... read to me? You really don't have to. I- I can read all by myself."

"We know that, but I haven't gotten to do all this parent-y stuff, so I wanna read to you," Gerard says. "If that's okay with you."

A genuine smile spreads across my face and I nod wildly. "Yeah. Yeah, that is okay."

We only get about halfway down the first page when Gee interrupts Frank's reading by saying, "Hey, Eve, what do you want for Christmas?" This question was probably brought on by the fact that the chapter we happen to be reading is a Christmas themed one.

"Oh, um, I haven't really thought about it. I don't really need anything." I shrug.

"We're not getting you nothing," he says.

"But—"

"No buts, Evie, it's our first Christmas together. I wanna spoil you."

"B— mais, there's nothing I really need or want."

"Did you just say 'but' in French 'cause Gee said no buts?" Frank asks.

"That's exactly what I did."

They both laugh. "Think about it," Gee says.

"Okay," I finally utter after a short pause, knowing there's no way I'm going to ask him for anything. I think he knows it, too.

Frank and Gerard take turns reading to me until I feel my eye lids begin to droop. I eventually fall asleep there on Gee's lap. Only waking up when they try to move me to a more comfortable position under my blankets. It must been past 6PM by now and I'm hungry for the supper I intend to get out of eating somehow, the Chinese takeout from Monday night still fresh in my mind. (Food. Don't have it ever again. You don't need it. You're already a fat-ass. You don't need food.)

"Did- did I fall asleep?" I slur. "Sorry."

"Don't worry about it, Evie," Gee says so gently he might as well be whispering. He tucks my blankets around me, which I'd usually hate, but I couldn't care less in my half-asleep state. "You can go back to sleep. Have supper when you wake up."

"Rain-check on Die Hard, okay?" Frank asks. I think I nod, but I go to sleep again too soon for me to be sure.