Falling for you | FNF | Carol X Whitty

Chapter 2

Whitty nervously looked around when he drank his drink with Sunday. He has a schedule, he comes here every Wednesday at 8 pm and stays for only 20 minutes. And when it’s essential that he has to go out, he usually goes in disguise (usually something along the lines of a hood, sunglasses, and a mask.)
He looked at the clock on the wall and saw it was 8:25 pm. He grew nervous and started looking around, which Sunday grew visibly worried. “What’s wrong?…” Sunday was grasping around for his name.“Whitty. Also, I’m fine, just need to get home soon.”
“Aw come onnnn we just started talkinggg.”
Sunday looked a little defeated but accepted it.
“Aw fine.”
She then had a smirk “Sooo how do I get you to trust me?"
Whitty rolled his eyes, “It’s not that easy. With my life, I’ve learned not to trust that much. Anyone could betray me… Just like…”
He snapped his fingers.
“That."
“Then why did you save me? Obviously, you saw something in me that you liked. So… what was it?”
Whitty was shocked at the question and had to think about it for a second. He didn’t really know. But then he saw Sunday giggling.
“U-Um, you got a little something…” They pointed to their head. Whitty felt his head and his eyes widened. Anytime he’s surprised or shocked, his fuse would stick up. “Oh shoot!” He patted down on his head/his hood to get over it. Sunday was just laughing their ass off. “Oh shut up,” Whitty said as he got himself situated.
“May I ask a couple of questions Whitty, just to get to know you?” Sunday asked.
“No, not really. I don’t want to tell my personal information to some stranger I just met.”
“No no no I am not a stranger Whitty. I stopped being a stranger when you took pity on me.”
Whitty rolled his eyes. “You can ask, doesn’t mean I’ll answer.”
“Ok… why are you acting so suspicious? Like, acting like a person about to rob a bank suspicious?”
“I don’t trust you enough to answer that.”
“Alright… are you a bomb?” Sunday said this way too loudly and Whitty had some internal panic.
“It’s getting late Sunday, I should get going.” He looked at the clock and saw it was almost 8:40. The dinner would be over soon and he had to get back to his apartment before it was too late.
“Hey come on, it’s only 8:40.” Sunday smiled. Whitty ignored them and stood up to walk out.
Sunday stood up and followed him as he wanted to get out of there asap. “Why are you running away from me Whitty?!”
That was it. That term, “Running away.” All his life had been running and hiding from things he could not control. He could feel himself slipping. He had to get out of there, he could not blow up in a crowded building with innocent bystanders. He had to get out quickly. Forget Sunday, forget the lounge, he just needed to get away. He was about to make a sprint for it when he felt Sunday’s tiny hand on his arm.
“Don’t go! I’ve barely gotten to know you! I wanna be your friend!”Whitty turned around with crazy shape-shifting eyes, hidden vaguely to the bystanders by the hood but oh so visible to Sunday. "I. Don't. Care." Whitty spoke in an almost non-human voice.
She grew scared and backed away. Whitty snapped out of it once he saw Sunday’s hurt and scared eyes. And with that, he ran. He ran through the streets. He ran through crowds. He ran through life.
Finally, he got back to his apartment. When he got in, he took a few shaky breaths. He knew he couldn’t calm down from such stress by just breathing. He closed the blinds and curtains and made sure there were no spots where someone could see him in his apartment. He locked all the five locks on his door. He took a breath and trusted he was safe. He took off his bomb head and held it to his chest. This helped him calm down and he felt his fuse not tingly with the heat. He put his head back on, sat on the floor, and contemplated what just happened. It all happened so fast for him. One minute he was helping someone, the next minute he’s about to explode. He knew he had to do something. But, then, that’s when he saw it. A little piece of paper slid under his door. Could be a threat.. or Sunday…
Whitty grabbed the letter, it was indeed from Sunday

“Dear Whitty,
I’m sorry about tonight and I’m not sure what I did but I’m sorry for doing it anyway. I know it’s creepy but I followed you to your apartment to make sure you were ok. I’d love to be your friend, you seem really pog. Here’s my number, text me."
-With love, Sunday”

Whitty sighed and put the paper somewhere safe. He’d figure out what to do tomorrow.