aidan
he loses track of everett, and has to make nine different turns to go back to where he was on monroe street.
everett's car is parked in front of a home, a run-down, paint-peeling, white house. he runs up to the door and knocks, and he keeps asking himself: why? why is he doing this? why is he here to see if everett's okay after everything that happened? why does he care so much about everett?
because you love him, his brain thinks, but he banishes the thought. he barely knows everett. a few shared kisses and words doesn't mean anything. they had something good for a few days, and then a month-and-a-half-long nothingness of everett just getting more tired and silence growing between them.
he takes his keys out of the ignition and slips into the house, thanking whatever heavens above that the door was unlocked.