That Summer

After leaving Bryan in the kitchen, Evangeline had managed to stumble her way up to her room, just barely as she couldn't seem to get her surroundings to stop from spinning or her lungs to retain oxygen.

She sat curled up in a ball for fifteen minutes while her heart beat slowed and her room began to stand still and she listened to Bryan retrieve something from his room before leaving. She could've sworn she heard him pause outside her door and inhale, but no words escaped his mouth. He just left in silence.

Evangeline followed soon after, dressed for dance class, but she only made it one step from her car before she had to run back inside and throw up in the kitchen sink. Evangeline watched dejectedly as the remnants of her breakfast washed down the drain. She'd have to attend dance class with an empty stomach, something she knew wasn't good since she needed the strength to get through the day.

The room was already full of people when Evangeline arrived at her class that day. It was just a Pointe class where the dancers worked to keep all their basic skills in check. It was an easy class and yet, even these exercises were becoming far too difficult for Evangeline.

She just didn't have the stamina anymore to perform the steps with ease and the fact that she was constantly completely dizzy depleted her ability to balance on her toes. She'd managed to stay upright but just barely.

The glares of disapproval from her assorted instructors didn't even faze Evangeline anymore. She took them in stride and pretended that they didn't exist. Evangeline blocked everything out when she danced now. She didn't get the praise she once did, she wasn't envied anymore; she was no longer the star. But she didn't put things on mute when she danced because she was so lost in the movement or the beauty of it all, rather it was because Evangeline now had to concentrate so hard on not passing out or not losing her balance that she wasn't able to pay attention to anything or anyone else in the room.

But Evangeline could still hear the whispers when she entered the room. And these weren't due to jealousy or mocking, they were due to confusion and speculation and gossip. Evangeline's change in appearance hadn't been missed by the other dancers that saw her day after day. Rather, they gave her worried glances and exchanged looks with each other each time she seemed to teeter on her feet.

But Evangeline didn't care; she wasn't going to give up.

So as the other dancers eyed her warily, Evangeline kept dancing the steps that she knew she had to perform. Her empty stomach kept growling angrily at her and she could feel the burning getting worse against her stomach lining. The organ felt as though it was folding in on itself, constantly reminding Evangeline she'd not been able to keep her food down that morning.

It was just after a pirouette that the dizziness really got to Evangeline. She almost fell, but managed instead to only stumble and then continue with the routine. But the room wouldn't stop spinning and instead of performing an arabesque, Evangeline found herself sprawled out on the floor.

Black spots surrounded her vision and she felt heavy as lead.

"Evangeline," her instructor exclaimed and for a moment she was glad Anna didn't teach this class. "Are you alright?"

"Yes," the blonde whispered back but as she looked around, no one's face showed anything but disbelief.

"Do you need a doctor?" a brunette girl asked cautiously.

"No," Evangeline shook her head, instantly regretting it. "I just need to go home."

"Should someone drive you-" the same brunette questioned but was instantly cut off.

"No. I'm fine on my own."

Evangeline pulled herself slowly to her feet, only stumbling once or twice but ignoring the tentative hands that shot out towards her. She refused to look at the people surrounding her, to see the expressions on their faces. Instead, Evangeline started ripping at her toe shoes angrily until they came off, fighting the dizziness swimming around her, and stalked out the door.

She managed to stumble her way down the steps and halfway across the parking lot before she heard hurried footsteps behind her.

"Hey, Evangeline, wait!" a feminine voice called after her. She slowed her steps and turned slowly (acutely aware of the dizzy factor) to see who was addressing her. And there was the brunette girl from the class in her leotard and tights and a pair of sneakers.

"What?" she snapped.

"I want to bring you home," the girl muttered nervously. "I just don't think you should drive right now."

"Why?" Evangeline seethed. "Because I might faint and crash the car in my unfit state?"

"Actually, yes," the girl nodded.

"I need to have my car," she said angrily.

"I can bring you in it. I'll just walk to the nearest station and take a bus back or something."

"Whatever," Evangeline sneered and threw her keys at the brunette before continuing her way to the car, careful not to take it too fast or she'd find herself back on the ground.

The ride to Evangeline's home was silent except for her giving the girl directions to her home. The brunette stayed silent, seemingly knowing that conversation would only make things harder. She only drove in silence and nodded once she received directions.

When they arrived at her home, Evangeline held her hand out silently as she waited for the girl to park in front of her house, not in the driveway where she usually was. Her keys were handed to her silently and both girls got out of the car. Evangeline locked the vehicle and looked at the girl before her.

"I've got to get back. I hope you're feeling better, Evangeline," she murmured and turned, walking down the street. Evangeline watched her go for a few moments before turning toward her house and entering the front door, heading straight for the package of ice she kept in the basement freezer.

Evangeline had an ice bath to get to.

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Bryan was not having a good day and his friends could tell.

They had gathered at the recording studio to hear the first rough copy of their album. All of the boys were ridiculously happy and proud of the product of their hard work, but the bassist couldn't seem to lift his spirits.

The four boys sat around a table with a large pizza between them and an easy conversation setting a laid back atmosphere. But the blond amongst them was the only one who remained silent through the exchange of words, and this did not go unnoticed.

"Hey, you alright?" John asked his friend quietly.

"I'm fine," Bryan growled in response. The three others looked at him in surprise but backed off. Well, except Martin.

"It's times like these that I totally get how you're related to your sister," Martin announced. Paul and John rolled their eyes. Bryan glared. "I mean, you're acting like a bitch and she is a total bitch. Like, beyond bitch. And she's a whore but only with chicks, because we know if she turned me down there's no way she's into dudes. So she's like a lesbian whore and-"

"Stop talking about her like that!" the table shook as two fists accompanying the shouting voice came in hard contact with the wood, sending a drink or two flying.

Three pairs of surprised eyes fell on one angry face. But the surprise was mostly because of who had the outburst. Paul was always the one to have the strongest reactions to Martin's degradation of Evangeline, so it came as a shock that the two clenched fists on the table belonged to Bryan.

"Man, I was just kidding," Martin smiled with a laugh - but the laugh was weak and the smile was forced. He knew he'd gone too far now, and he couldn't squash the guilt that was washing over him.

"She's my sister, okay?" he spat. "I know she's not the best person in the world, but she's my sister."

"Okay, I'm sorry," Martin murmured.

"Whatever," Bryan mumbled back before leaving the pizzeria altogether, ignoring the looks he was receiving from other patrons.

He paced on the sidewalk outside for a few moments in attempt to calm down until he heard someone behind him. He turned to find Paul standing there silently, watching him.

"Hey," he said after a moment.

"Hey," Paul responded softly.

"I'm sorry for freaking out," Bryan murmured and looked to the ground. "Even though Martin totally deserved it."
"Hey, no need to apologize. And yeah, he totally did," a smile worked its way onto his face.

Bryan laughed softly and then went back to scuffing his beat up Converse on the pavement beneath him.

"What's up?" Paul questioned, glancing to his friend's face, asking in guy language what had put his friend in such a mood.

"Evangeline," was the only response he got and somehow, that was enough.

"Worse than usual?" he assumed.

"No," Bryan shook his head. "It's different altogether. She's not well."

This caught Paul's attention and he focused more. "Is she sick?"

"You could say that," Bryan laughed harshly. "All she does anymore is sleep and dance. She gets home, showers and goes to bed. She won't eat anymore and anything she does try to eat she throws it back up. I'm not sure if it's on purpose or not. She only comes to dinner because Mom and Dad started noticing." Bryan paused and messed with his hair, glancing up at his friend who looked worried and slightly horrified. "You haven't seen her in a long time but she looks so sick now. Thin. Pale. Dead."

Paul stared at the ground, his hands shoved into his too tight pants. He didn't say anything for a long time, mostly because he just didn't know what to say. He tried picturing an Evangeline like Bryan had described in his head but he couldn't do it. Maybe because he was so used to the strong willed Evangeline, or maybe because his subconscious was too scared of the possibilities to let his mind form the images.

"So," Paul questioned after a while. "Is she...is - is it..."

"An eating disorder," Bryan nodded.

"Why?" his voice came out in a whisper.

"I don't know. She thought she was fat and ugly I guess."

"She isn't. She never was," Paul said strongly. Bryan only nodded in agreement and silence fell over the two, until he spoke again.

"She fainted this morning," he murmured. His eyes were on the ground but they were focused on something far away, his mind replaying the scene of his sister falling to the floor over and over.

"What?" his friend asked in a panicked voice. "What happened, what'd you do?"

"Nothing. She got up, left, refused to skip classes." Bryan's voice was weak. He rubbed his eyes and whispered, "She hates me."

Paul didn't know what to say to that. Mostly, his insides were rattling with the thought of the girl he was so crazy over in any sort of peril and he was in a state of too much confusion and worry to really form a response. Aside from that, part of him wanted to comfort his friend and assure him that sibling love was a finite thing that could not be perturbed. But on the other hand, he'd been around long enough to know how Evangeline was and he knew she never was fond of any of them. And, quite frankly, he never knew Bryan cared so much. Paul decided honesty was the best policy on this one and told his friend how he felt.

"I don't really know what to say, dude."

"Don't worry about it," Bryan shrugged. "Look, can you do me a favor?"

"Of course."
"Go back to my house and get something for me? I'd go but I don't want to risk running into my sister. I mean, she should still be at classes, but just incase," he asked.

"Hey, man. No problem."

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The first three minutes of soaking were absolute agony.

The water was so cold that when Evangeline had descended into it slowly, she groaned out loud to fight off the pain of the freezing liquid surrounding her. She fought the tears from her face and let out small whimpers throughout her soak. She thought for a few moments that she wouldn't be able to handle the soak - not now, not today - but then she remembered all the other times she'd taken ice baths and decided to fight her way through it.

The last seven minutes weren't quite as bad as the beginning since she'd lost feeling in most of her body already. Usually she got out after ten minutes, aware that staying in for any longer wasn't particularly healthy, but Evangeline decided she was already damaging her body and sitting in a bath for a little longer wouldn't kill her.

The numbness and pain began to get so bad that Evangeline had to let out whimpers and groans, increasing in volume as the need to get out became greater. But she refused to stand and exit the water. She wanted to stay in, needed to stay in.

If only to numb her body; if only to numb her mind.

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When Paul arrived at the Donahue household, he saw Evangeline's car out front so he instantly knew she would be in the house. He was torn between being happy that he was possibly going to see her again, and the fear that consumed his body at witnessing her as anything other than the perfect girl he'd fallen for.

Paul entered the home and noted that he heard movement in the bathroom. He assumed Evangeline was taking a shower, so he headed up to Bryan's room to retrieve the cell phone he'd been instructed to find. He spent a good five minutes searching through Bryan's ridiculously messy room before deciding he'd need to call the phone in order to find it.

It was when Paul was passing back by the bathroom, cell phone in hand, that he heard it. Noises. He thought at first that maybe it was Evangeline humming, but as he paused and moved closer to the door he realized it wasn't a tune. In fact, there wasn't even a pattern to the sounds. And then, Paul realized that the noises were whimpers, groans, whines. They sounded pained.

"Evangeline," Paul called through the door along with a knock. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Evangeline's voice called back. She tried to sound strong but to Paul and even to herself, she sounded weak.

"Are you sure? I thought I heard groaning or something." He was worried and suddenly overcome with the need to see her, to make sure she wasn't lying.

"Yes, I'm fine. I'll be out in a second," she reassured, trying to pull herself out of the tub but failing miserably due to the fact that she couldn't feel anything. She was halfway out of the tub and glad as the temperate air started taking over her body.

Evangeline's arm slipped and she let out a small cry as her body went plunging back into the frigid water and her head bounced off the side of the tub behind her.

"Evangeline?" Paul called with more of a panicked tenor to his voice. When he didn't hear an immediate reply, he didn't hesitate at all to slam the door open. At first, Paul was in shock at what he saw; this half-emaciated girl before him. This wasn't the Evangeline he knew. But this freeze-frame only lasted a few moments and it took him all of three seconds to run to the side of the tub and take in the sight before him. "What the hell did you do?" he asked. He was too panicked for his own good, seeing how completely out of focus Evangeline's eyes were. She looked so frail and broken that he thought he might cry. Then Paul thought she could have been a lot worse off if he hadn't knocked on the bathroom door. And Paul suddenly became indescribably angry at the thought of Evangeline hurt, at the thought of her doing something as stupid as to stay in an ice-bath for so long, at the thought of how absolutely terrified this situation made him.

"Don't look at me," she mumbled, everything before her becoming blurry from the impact her head had made on the porcelain and the lack of strength in her body.

"God, get out of the fucking tub," Paul growled.

Evangeline looked at him in surprise, or as much surprise as she could muster at the moment. Paul had never spoken to her with so much conviction in his voice before. Hell he'd never spoken to her with anything more than a pathetic sort of adoration. But the new anger in his voice made Evangeline follow his orders.

She again tried to raise herself up but slipped once more; she was too weak and rattled from hitting her head to be successful. Her body did not fall back down this time, however, because Paul's arms appeared around her waist, stopping her descent the second he saw her arms give out.

Paul pulled her out of the cold water, shivering as her cool body pressed against his warm one. He wrapped a towel around her and took in her pale skin and how her nose, fingers, toes and lips had an unnatural blue tint to them. And how she had literally no body heat coming off of her. Paul sighed and gathered Evangeline in his arms, walking her back to her room.

"You could have really fucking hurt yourself, Evan," he mumbled angrily to her. She would have corrected him, but was too cold. All she cared about at the moment was that Paul was warm, and she was cold, and his arms felt really nice around her. "Get dressed," he ordered once he put her on the ground and turned his back to her. He heard movement for a few moments until all went silent.

"Okay," she murmured.

"Get into bed."

Evangeline followed Paul's orders, too afraid to defy a boy who was so upset. She sat with her back against her headboard and her pink comforter pulled up all around her. Paul tossed the towel she'd left on the ground at her, telling her to dry her hair. After having gotten rid of as much of the freezing water from her hair as possible, Evangeline set down the towel in front of her. Paul picked it up and watched the girl before him as she rubbed at the back of her head.

"Are you alright?" he questioned monotonously. Her blue eyes glanced up to his brown ones, but upon meeting with only fire, she looked back to her bedding.

"Yes," Evangeline whispered.

"Stay here. I'll be back," Paul spat out and headed for her door.

"Paul?" she called out weakly, arms and blankets wrapped tightly around her shivering body. He paused, halfway out the door and waited for her to continue. "I'm sorry." Paul turned around to face her completely, his eyes deathly with anger and his face set.

"I don't give a fuck if you're sorry, Evangeline. Don't you ever fucking do that to me again, do you hear me?" he practically shouted. "Ever."

Paul stalked out of her room with an angry countenance and walked down the stairs. Upon entering the kitchen, he leaned his head against the wall. Letting out a long, shaky breath he went to run his fingers through his hair but dropped his arms back down as soon as they'd been raised.

His hands were trembling.

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"I'm not thirsty," Evangeline murmured when Paul reappeared in her room with a hot cup of tea.
"Drink it," he ordered. He was still mad and his eyes were still cold so Evangeline didn't fight him as she took the mug.

After a few minutes the tea was half gone and Evangeline's hair was half dry and the blue had faded from her features, but she was still shivering rather badly.

"Paul," she murmured. The boy she'd addressed looked up from the floor where he'd been gazing silently, moodily. "It's so cold," Evangeline whispered.

Paul stared at her too big eyes in her thin face and he understood what she was asking, whether she knew she was requesting something or not. Evangeline saw his deep brown eyes soften for the first time since he saw her in the bath, and she found she was both surprised about this and happy. Silently, Paul kicked off his shoes and moved to Evangeline's full sized bed. He crawled under the blankets with her and was slightly shocked to feel her shiver and the lack of body heat beneath the covers worried him.

"Sleep, Evan," Paul murmured softly. She would have yelled at him to call her by her full name, but she was tired and horribly cold. And, again, Paul was warm and comforting and as his arms slipped around her (in order to keep her warm, he told himself) Evangeline snuggled into the blankets and into his toasty body.

"Thank you," she squeaked.

"Sleep," Paul whispered into her ear, lips pressed to her hair. And, as she'd found herself doing a lot that day, she obeyed.