That Summer

Evangeline stood in her living room, arms crossed and face set. She looked just about as fierce as a malnourished girl wearing too big sweatpants and an old tank top on her bony frame could look.

On the outside, she looked pissed. She looked more than pissed. She looked like she could tear a grizzly apart with just her bare hands and the fire in her eyes. But inside, the part of her that Martin couldn't see, Evangeline was shaking like a leaf. She was scared shitless because she knew that Martin being here was a very bad thing. Her secret wasn't a secret anymore. She knew Bryan had blabbed, and even if Bryan hadn't blabbed, Martin could see Evangeline now. And that was more than enough for him to figure it out.

"So, uh, look" Martin cleared his throat. "I'm no good at this sentimental shit..."
"Then I suggest you give up now and don't even attempt trying to say whatever it is that's milling about your miniscule brain," Evangeline sneered. Martin scoffed and threw his hands in the air.
"You know, you haven't changed nearly as much as your brother thinks. I don't even know why I'm here," he mumbled the last part under his breath.
"Me either. Goodbye," the blonde smiled a little too largely and Martin's eyes narrowed.
"No, I came here to say something," he insisted.

Evangeline glared a bit harder and huffed, watching as the boy before her sat himself casually on the armchair. His lazy blue eyes watched her as if he was waiting for some sign from her before he continued.

"Well?" she prompted.
"Evangeline, you look like you walked out of a death camp," Martin said bluntly.
"Is this really what you came her for?" she shrieked.
"Seriously, what's up?" he asked, this time his voice a bit softer than before.
"What? Did you come her to save me? You know, my brother's been trying to do that for like two weeks. I really doubt the great assholeness that is you is going to change anything."
"All I know is I'm not particularly fond of you, but your brother is one of my best friends and you're fucking up his life enough where I'm worried about him. I'm not here for you, Evangeline. I'm here for Bryan," Martin shrugged. "I mean, I don't get it. Weren't you planning on using ballet to get out of this place and grimy people like us who are just so below your royal highness?"
"You have no idea what you're talking about," Evangeline hissed, jabbing her finger in the air toward the boy as she spoke.
"Then tell me!" he exclaimed. "How the fuck hard is that?"
"Ballet was my ticket out of here, okay? I wasn't going to let that just slip away because some stupid doctor said I couldn't dance for two weeks," she sneered. "What do you care, anyway? Weren't you the one who told me to go throw up my breakfast a week before I even got injured? Turns out you were right," Evangeline shot. She let herself fall onto the couch and curl her legs under her. "Happy?"

Martin's eyebrows raised and he brought both hands up to his face, shaking his head into his palms before letting them drop.

"Seriously, Evangeline?" he laughed bitterly. "I was only ever a dick to you because you were a bitch to me first. I'm not a bad guy, you know," he picked at the leather material beside his thigh. "I didn't really mean it."
"Well you were pretty convincing." Her words dripped with acid and Martin looked slightly taken aback.
"I guess I just always kind of hated you after you turned me down," he shrugged. "I mean, who says no to this?" he gestured to his body to which Evangeline only raised her eyebrows. Martin cleared his throat, realizing his joke didn't go over well. "I'm trying to apologize, Evangeline. I just figured I owe you that."
The blonde let her eyes linger on the lead singer before her for a long moment, watching as he squirmed uncomfortably under her gaze. "Apology accepted," she said finally, but her face remained straight. "And that doesn't mean I don't still hate your guts."
"Fair enough," Martin stood up but he didn't move towards the door. Instead he stared down at his hands and fidgeted with his fingers. "Hey, Evangeline?" he questioned quietly.
"I didn't know there could possibly be more," she murmured dryly.
"I know Paul's being a dick-" he began but was quickly cut off.
"I don't want to talk about your vertically inept guitarist, thank you."
"He's still crazy about you, Evangeline," Martin continued as if she'd never spoken. "He'll figure that out eventually."
"I don't need him to still be obsessed with me," she growled.
"No, but I'm sure it'd be nice if he was around."

Evangeline glared at the boy before her and he just tossed up his hands as if to say "but what do I know?" He turned and went to the door, glancing back at the blonde girl behind him.

"I guess I should be going now," he murmured. "I really am sorry. I never meant any of what I said."
"Goodbye, Martin," Evangeline sighed tiredly.

He was out the door in about three seconds and five minutes later, Evangeline was back on the couch watching more of Dawson's Creek. But what Martin had said was still running around in her head hours later.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bryan, John and Paul were sitting in John's living room talking about the film they'd just seen when Martin burst through the door, two hours and a movie late.

"Wow," John laughed. "I thought you'd died."
"Wishful thinking," Martin smirked, grabbing an apple from a bowl on the table. "I had some things I had to attend to."
"Really? Did she have a name?" Bryan snorted.
"Funny you should say that. I was with your sister," he smiled in return.

Martin could have sworn he heard cracking as three heads all snapped to his face. Two of them looking surprised, one looking sort of pissed off.

"What did you do to her?" Paul asked accusingly.
"This is bad," John murmured under his breath.
"I didn't do anything, thanks," Martin scoffed. "We talked. She isn't such a bitch all the time, you know. Just most of it."
"Did you piss her off?" Paul interrogated. "You don't know what she's going through, Martin. She can't handle-"
"Actually, I do know what she's going through."
That stopped Paul in his tracks. "What?" He took one look at Bryan and that was all he needed. "Really? Really? Of all people, you tell him?"
"I resent that," Martin interjected but was completely ignored as the blonde answered.
"It kind of just came out. And you know he isn't going to use it against her," Bryan insisted.
"Guys? What the hell are we talking about?" John asked. Bryan and Martin exchanged glances but Paul seemed to be much too far into freaking out to even listen to the drummer.
"Oh, sure, Bryan. Go and tell the whole fucking world. I mean, how do you think that makes her feel?" he questioned, standing from the couch and pacing. Bryan and John watched slightly bewildered as Martin simply chewed on his apple calmly. "And you!" the tall guitarist suddenly turned to the lead singer. "She's probably sitting at home ready to kill someone because you had to go and make her mad!"
"Dude," Martin said calmly. "What the fuck are you freaking out about?"
"What do you mean? I'm not freaking out," he insisted. "I'm just saying you can't go fuck with people."
"Look, man," the blue-eyed brunette sighed. "I just don't think you can really speak for Evangeline anymore."

John and Bryan's eyes grew wide and they exchanged glances. Paul looked like he was about to tear something apart with his teeth, and Martin was looking like a prime target.

"What does that mean?" Paul seethed.
"It means," his friend drawled. "That you can't speak for someone when you don't even really know how they're doing or feeling or what they're going through anymore."
"I know exactly-"
"No, you don't," Martin stated.
"Yes I do!"
"Honestly, dude," he took a bite of his apple. "When was the last time you were even there for her?"

And that shut Paul right up.