(Don't) Remember Us - An H2OVanoss Story

Chapter 11: "Conjure"

I'M BACK! sorry for the long wait, folks. i didn't have the time to update soooo sorry :-(
oh yeah and i'm really sorry cuz my writing skill's gotten rusty all over again ugh :-(
anyways, enjoy!

+ + + + +

Word count: 1512 words

Jonathan woke up with a start when a gunshot was heard from the outside of his room, but was still clear enough that it happened inside the house. Streaks of dried tears were still latching onto his face like leeches, and although he could try to wash his face to clear the remaining evidence of his breakdown, he would've spent his time better on figuring out what kind of scheme Evan was making out of his evil plans, because that guy wasn't supposed to do it in his house and neither he was going to give up.

But...what if it wasn't Evan? What if there was someone who broke into his house, bringing a gun with him/her, and shot Evan while he was sleeping on the couch, and left him bleed to death as he/she rushed to escape the scene?

Evan...

...bled to death?

Evan!

The thought itself had made Jonathan shooting up from his bed, and swiftly fetched for the gun he kept in one of his nightstands, heartbeat rapidly thumping beneath his rib cage. Somehow, the weight of the gun in his hand felt oddly familiar yet distant, and the need to know everything about himself - yes, he even didn't know what he wanted to do with this part of him - came rushing at him like a gust of tornado went sweeping at him and sucked him into its never-ending vortex. He didn't know what was the background of the reason why he wanted to save Evan either, and it all felt so surreal he almost believed that his body had a mind on its own, moving against his will as he stood up and mustered up whatever courage he had left in his exhausted soul.

The door knob was colder than he expected it to be when he held onto it with his hard, bare grip - so hard he could crush it into pieces within the next five seconds. Twisting it open was a torture and had drained ten years of his lifespan, and the click it produced wasn't much better; it rang in his head, louder and louder by the passing seconds. His palm was quick to get damp, so he removed his finger away from the trigger for safety measure, fearing what could the misfire lead himself to.

At first, he creaked open the door slightly, peeking with one eye through the crack. After he deemed that it was safe to step out of his safe zone, he squeezed a leg through it and the rest of his body followed - had to open the door for more room to do so - and he was completely vulnerable to the danger he had in his own house. He extended the hand that was holding onto the gun in front of him, and the other propped up his shaking arm for some sort of precision stabilizer. He was so scared he swore the silence between the walls was starting to echo his drumming heart.

"Evan?," he called out loud, shattering the silence to pieces, and he wasn't amused at what he did, because he definitely would scream at that certain stupid character of a horror movie not to shout in a situation like he was having right now, and was sure to have a very bad ending advancing at them through the storyline, "are you there? A-Are you even okay, though?" - he turned down the volume of his own voice on the last sentence to stop himself from being discouraged - "Evan, let's just stop playing games, alright?!"

Silence.

Jonathan sighed out loud at the stillness around him. Save for the moonlight that pierced through the windowpanes, it was dark. Like, very dark. And he was hoping to come across a lamp switch by now since his shadow was starting to freak him out.

"I swear to God, Evan...I'm not a fan of horror video games and you know that...," he muttered under his breath crossly, eyebrows furrowing in an angry manner, holding the gun still. There was a tinge of him that was hoping for Evan to be very much breathing, kicking, punching, and alive.