The Goth and His Psycho.

The Goth and His Psycho: [Chapter Thirteen]

  “It looks…” he trailed off, having no idea of what to say. 

  Bree had her nose screwed up, stood in front of his bathroom mirror, her hair no longer blond, but a deep mahogany. It looked beautiful, dark brown, with a soft hint of red. He’d gotten the dye at the nearest supermarket, and they’d spent the half an hour it required for the dye to settle in surfing the internet for clothes. 

  “It looks weird” she grumbled, eyes downcast. 

  “We can change it” Alex offered, giving her a smile. 

  “No,” she shook her head “It looks better than it did, and I doubt anyone will recognize me. Plus, I don’t want you spending your money.” 

  “Bree,” he sighed in exasperation, he’d told her this a hundred times. “I had a job in the summer. I saved the money. It’s fine. It’s not like there’s anything to spend it on around here anyway” he gave an offhanded shrug. 

  “Even so, you might need it…” 

  “I’m not going to need it around here, Bree” he chuckled, and then he stopped when she glanced up at him, meeting his eyes through the mirror, and he watched as hers dropped to become hard and cold. 

  “Don’t mock me” she hissed. He held up his hands, sighing. 

  “I wasn’t” he told her earnestly, she glared at him, then she turned away, clearly having decided he wasn’t worth her time. 

  “Have you seen the news today?” she asked then, it was nonchalant now, her voice no longer threatening. He was having a hard time getting used to the mood swings. 

  “No, we can go down and watch it if you like” he suggested easily, trying to keep up with her ever changing tone. 

  “Isn’t your mother here?” she glanced at him through the mirror worriedly. 

  “No, she left a note earlier saying she had worked all through the night and then had to do more today” he shrugged. 

  “She works a lot” Bree observed as she turned to hobble from the room, Alex hovered worriedly behind her like an old grandma, ready to dart forward and catch her if she fell. But even though she’d had a bullet in her leg only yesterday, she seemed more than steady on her feet. She limped heavily, and Alex guessed she’d always have a slight limp from then on, it was a serious injury. But even so, she rarely hissed in pain, and didn’t even stumble. Either she was more badass than Buffy and Lara Croft put together or she had a seriously high pain threshold. Probably the first one. Because that was just Bree.  

  “Yeah, she’s a nurse. So she barely has time for anything except the hospital” Alex shrugged as he tried to help her down the stairs, but she swatted his steadying hands away with a glare. 

  “Including you” it wasn’t a question, and there was no sympathy on Bree’s face when she looked at him, green eyes calm and observing.

  “Including me” he agreed, even though he knew he didn’t have to. She seemed to be able to read him with a single glance. He was glad she wasn’t sympathetic really, well, he’d have liked to have a comforting pat on the shoulder or even a hug, but he’d been stupid to hope so. Bree had been through so much Alex’s problems seemed pitiful in the shadow of hers. Still, he was glad she didn’t look at him like he was a little lost boy on his way to Neverland. 

  She made her own way into the living room, and he disappeared into the kitchen to make some food for the both of them, he heard the faint noises as the TV was flicked on, and went about making something suitable that didn’t suck.