‡† The Unseen †‡

12 † Reciprocated †

Apologies for any mistakes you might come across...

(Okay, maybe I should stop saying that...? Nah..)
_____________

The text came in at 12:03 a.m. From that same guy.

Devon: Come outside (-_-)

Raven sat on the edge of his bed, phone glowing like a spotlight in the dark. His homework was half-done, notes scattered beside cold tea and a bottle of painkillers he hadn’t even touched yet. He hadn’t even changed out of his restaurant uniform. He didn't have time to be humoring someone like Devon.

At least that's what he told himself. Truth is, he was scared. He dreaded what Devon would say, especially after having seen him working at that restaurant the night before.

He stared at the screen for a second, then stood up and headed out. He didn't have to bother with his appearance—what he was wearing didn't matter. He wasn't putting up an act.

Not for Devon, at least.

The night air was thick and cool. Quiet enough that his thoughts almost dared to rise again. He swallowed them down before he ended up saying something he would regret.

Devon was leaning against the streetlamp across from his house, hoodie up, arms folded, as if he’d been waiting there for a long time already.

“You didn’t knock,” Raven muttered—for lack of anything better to say to fill the empty night—as he walked up to him, across the empty road.

“I knew you wouldn’t be asleep,” Devon replied, no sarcasm in his voice.

Raven gave a tired laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. He knew what this was about, and it made his nerves act up. If he had this his own way, he'd have bolted back up the house—shouldn't have responded to his text in the first place.

How did I get his number again?

“So, what now? You going to interrogate me again?”

Devon pushed off the pole, walking toward him. “I just want to know what the hell is going on. You're falling apart, and everyone else's too dumb to see it.”

Raven sighed and shook his head. Of course he had to say it that way. Who was he to tell Devon of his problems, when the guy had burdens of his own? Everyone had burdens of their own. It's how the world worked.

To every man his burden, after all.

Raven shook his head again. He wasn't about to dump every complaint in his life on Devon like he's some therapist. And even therapists have problems and lives of their own. He couldn't just do that to someone. “Don’t worry about it.”

Devon's expression hardened, for some reason Raven couldn't understand, and his arms folded across his chest as he retorted rather harshly, “I am worried.”

Raven simply shrugged. “Well, don’t be. I’m used to it.”

And then it happened.

Devon’s hand shot out and grabbed Raven by the front of his shirt, not very violently, but firm enough to startle the heck out of him. Their faces were closer now, moonlight carving out the sharp edges of both.

“You don’t get to decide that,” Devon growled. “You’ve been worrying about me since day one—and you hardly even knew me. You’ve dragged me into your circle, shoved me into the team, literally labelled me your brother—fine. Then let me be your brother. Let me at least give a damn.”