#wait wat r u saying to me i dont understand
Well, shit. He looked like hell. She wouldn’t say that, of course - she really doubted that’d be helpful.
Okay. She could navigate this like she did every other crisis she’d ever faced. It was a Choose Your Own Adventure book. That was all, just a Choose Your Own Adventure book. She’d loved those things when she was a kid. She’d always been so good at choosing the options that led to the best possible ending. If she could do that, she could do this. It was just a Choose Your Own Adventure book.
Option one. You go all touchy-feely super shrink on him, try to talk or whatever. Yeah. That’s gonna work. Besides, you’re shit at feelings and stuff like that.
Option two. Maintain the snarky, sarcastic exterior, at least for the time being. He’s on edge - he’s not going to want to chat, so you smack him into submission (metaphorically speaking). That’s what you’re good at, isn’t it? Putting up walls?
You choose option two. Turn to page 94.
“Heya, kid,” she greeted, patting him on the shoulder as she stepped past him through the door. “Yeah, me too. Missin’ a Calc exam for you, you know, so let’s skip the whole small talk thing.“
He knew for a fact he looked like a goddamn corpse. Bloodshot eyes, dark circles, puffy skin, pale complexion, bones popping out, the works. But hell, she didn’t bring it up. He had to show his gratitude for that. Letting her pass by as he bites down on his tongue, the second the door closes, he bursts.
"Why are you skipping Calculus just to come visit me? You could’ve called, like a normal goddamn person, you don’t live here! You can’t just waltz in whenever you damn well feel like it! I was in the middle of something, an-”
Oh god, he’s turned into Dean on his moody days.
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Gabriel slowly shuffled back until bare heels hit the scratchy fabric of the couch, subtly gesturing to the spot beside where he plopped down as a silent invitation for her to sit down. “I-I’m sorry. J-just having a bad day.“ He sighs, his various murmurs drowned out by the sounds of anguish emitted by his stomach. "…Stomachaches. Anyway, how’ve you been, Meg?” He murmurs, glancing up at her through his fingers. Even if she couldn’t see, he knew his eyes were screaming “I’m changing the subject, take the hint".
She sighs, dropping onto the couch beside him and pushing her hair back behind her ear. You’re not twelve anymore, Meg. Life is so much more freakin’ complicated than a goddamn Choose Your Own Adventure book. God, sometimes she really, really hated being that girl who was so much better with computers than she was with people.
She wanted to bury her face in her hands - why the hell did she think coming here herself was a good idea? She should’ve called one of his brothers, figured out how to get in touch with his parents, talked to his roommates, something - anything was better than sending herself in to try to talk to him. Fuck’s sake, she didn’t talk. She programmed. And she made snarky remarks. And she kicked butt at Choose Your Own Adventure novels. And that was about it. She didn’t talk, she didn’t console, she didn’t reassure. She just didn’t do people in general. Hence why coming here herself was a really bad plan.
“Thought I said we should skip the small talk,” she muttered. “I’m skipping Calc ‘cause it’s dumb, and 'cause I care about you, idiot. That’s the sort of shit you do for people you care about when they’re in trouble.”
