The Hunter and the Hunted ✔️

~•19•~

I looked at my bloody fist another time, my hand healed but there was blood still on it, dried onto my skin. I looked back to Colin, who was sweeping up glass that had fallen from the mirror I punched.

I was expecting him to shoot me some words of wisdom, some idea to fix all my problems, maybe a condolence or a threat to kill whoever took Becker. But all I received from him was silence and the occasional worried glance.

Don't get me wrong, I was used to the worried glances and the silence from my family. I was used to the judgement and sullen looks from them. But... but from Colin? I was partly terrified, mainly because his silence affected me this much. I understood that I more than like liked him, but he was right to say it was scary. Love is terrifying, but that's how you know when it's real. Is when you're terrified to lose the other person, when you're terrified to mess up and lose their love, when it's so strong it's scary.

However, that was only a small part of me. A tiny glimpse of my emotions. The rest of my heart was red with anger, fighting against my brain to jump up and run to Quebec. My head told me to stay calm, take deep breaths. But oh how my heart wanted to run to the fight. Somehow, my head outweighed my heart for the first time, so I sat on the armrest of Colin's deep red velvet couch in the living room.

"Can you please say something?" I snapped, looking up from my bloody fist.

He stood up and sighed disappointedly. "What do I say? Anything I say will be wrong, Everly." He sounded like a disappointed mom or a confused dad.

I narrowed my eyes. "What's that mean?"

"You're doing that thing again." He muttered, grabbing the broom and sweeping up the smaller pieces of glass he couldn't pick up. He swept it into the dustpan and tossed it into the trash, shaking his head.

I looked up at the ceiling, a small chandelier hanging like teardrops. "Doing what again? You have to be more specific than that. I'm not a genius like you."

"THAT!" He gestured to me with his arms, one hand holding the broom and dustpan, and the other one holding a bag. "When you get angry you find anything to argue over. And when you're sad everything goes, you can't argue. And right now you're angry." He said it rudely and when I went to open my mouth he held a hand up. "Everly, I really don't want to argue with you. I hate seeing you like this, is all." He said defeatedly.

"Like?" Weak? Angry? Argumentative. I had never noticed my shift in emotions but he apparently paid enough attention to see them.

He set the broom against the wall and walked to me, each hand on the side of my waist and his eyes peering into mine. "Scared," He said after a moment of contemplation. "I hate seeing you scared and distressed."

I wasn't expecting that. Maybe a sad or an angry, but not a scared. "I'm not scared, I'm a Dawn, I don't get sca—"

"And I'm a Gold but I don't like the color. Last names mean nothing. Everly, I see it in your eyes. I feel it because well... I'm a vampire. I know you're scared. And I hate seeing you like this. I'm scared too. I'm scared that what I want to say won't make a difference to you, or it will and it'll be the wrong thing." He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against mine, his breathing soft. "I'm sorry Becker is gone. I really am."

So he did have an opinion. And judging by his demeanor, I had no choice but to deduce that I wouldn't like whatever he wanted to say. My interest was peaked now anyways. "What do you want to say?" I asked.

He pulled away and I missed him being close to me already.

He exhaled heavily and ran a hand through his hair. He looked up and groaned. "Oh I hope my face is less punchable than a glass mirror." He looked back to me. "You should tell your family to call off the search for Becker." He said it quickly, fearfully. He should be scared. His face was less punchable than a mirror, but that wouldn't stop me.