Snippet #2479461

There were no words to describe the look of pure horror that crossed Avery's face the moment Helena began to wave. However, if really do insist, his friends would later attempt to give the look justice by saying it was like he'd just seen death himself. Why was she coming this way? Was she actually going to try to talk to him? It had been years and years since they'd last so much as made eye contact, so what did she want now? He could hear his friends laughing and whispering conspiratorially to one another, far too amused by their usually fearless leader's complete lack of composure. He couldn't help it, not really, because, for one, he'd long since made a vow to himself to ignore all that remained of the Six and they all had seemed quite fine with that. And, of course, there was the fact that he wasn't fond of Helena in the least, so he didn't really need more rumors starting up about either of them. High schoolers, regardless of the facts, were merciless like that.

"Avery...hey...I need to talk to you. Like, right now." Her normally blank expression had morphed into one of sincerity as she spoke, her stuffed toy's ears giving one last bounce as she settled to a stop in front of the table.

"That's nice and all, but I'm going to-" His protest was cut off quickly by the clatter of his friends scooping up their belongings, laughing to themselves all the while. He stared at them, horror returning to his face once more because were they really going to abandon him? The answer was apparently yes as, in less than a minute they'd made their exit, snickering and offering him good luck as they left the student council president alone with the last person in the world he wanted to see. He sighed, frustration thick in that simple exhalation, and sat back down, lips pressed into a thin line. "Fine. Talk."

"They say that you need to come back to otherworld. I should be mad you know..for all the stuff you've said about me over the years, but I'm not anymore...not if you come back."

Avery gaped at her for a moment, completely at a loss for words. Not only had she just flung their childhood delusion at him without so much as a how-do-you-do, but now she was actually trying to play the victim here. Like this had been all his fault, like she was doing him a favor by offering to let him back in on her insane little play world. It was hers now, of course it was. The others had abandoned it and she had taken it from him, turning it from a fun game into a driving block in their once-upon-a-time friendship.

He didn't, of course, hear any words from anything imaginary or otherwise. Try as Winnie might, Avery could only hear a faint murmur int he back of his mind, an sliver of connection due to his lasting adoration of the Mad Cat painting propped up into his room. And faint niggles of words at the back of your mind is far less disconcerting than someone trying to make you see like the bad guy. He wasn't the bad guy here, he wasn't.

"Do you really think," He began, finally finding his voice with barely suppressed rage, "That I care what you think about me? I've never said a word about you because I don't talk about you because I. Don't. Care. I really don't. I don't even know what you're talking about right now, so go take your delusions and- and I don't even know what else and grow up." Not his most eloquent argument, but rage tended to keep people from making the soundest arguments.