Back at Square One (BEN Drowned)

27

"Feel like talking to me yet, Valentin?"

I walked back into my bedroom, phone in hand, extremely not in the mood for whatever manipulative banter Ben was going to try on me this time. "Go away, Ben," I muttered, collapsing onto my bed and scrolling through iTunes for some temporary distraction.

"I don't think I will. You see, we haven't—"

Surprisingly, he cut off when I whirled my head around and sat up, reaching my limit. I gave him my deadliest of glares and curled my hands into fists.

"Fuck off, Ben. I'm not talking to you."

Those words seemed to cut through him, and something glittered in his eyes.

"...excuse me?"

"You heard exactly what I said. Now, why don't you take my advice for once? Might make you a little less bored."

I looked back to my phone, which turned out to be a mistake, because suddenly Ben's angry face was blocking my "relaxing songs" playlist.

"I'm sorry, but you seem to have forgotten that I'm your only friend at this point. Would you rather be alone for the rest of your life?"

I laughed in his (kind of) face. "You are hardly my friend, you know. Alone would be so much better than you following me around all the time, trying to fuck with my brain and get me to forgive you for killing people!"

"...wow. That was kind of hot, have I actually never seen you this mad before?"

"Oh, grow up!" I nearly yelled, my face turning red.

"Have a little pity, dear. It's not that often you have this much time to yourself. Why not appreciate what you've got? Why not...try talking this out?"

That caught me off guard. "...what?"

"I'm not stupid, Avery. I know you've been seeing that...whatever his name is. I know you've been talking about me, and what I've done, and how you're so trapped and so lonely in that little pretty head of yours. What if you tried understanding me. Eh?"

I...couldn't refute that. It was my fault I'd been blocking him out all this time instead of trying to come to terms with what had been happening lately. But he didn't have to be an asshole about it. He had a point, and yet something about this felt wrong.

It's not really him, I reminded myself. You can't reason with some malevolent virus who's taken over your best friend. It won't be him you're talking to.

"Oh, to-may-to, to-mah-to. You think I'd insult your IQ like that? I believe I've made it very clear that—"

"Fine."

"Excuse me?"

"I'll talk to you. I'll try to...reason with this version of Ben that, frankly, I like way less than my actual Ben. Happy?"

A good second passed after I said that before my phone went back to normal and your classic, green-tunic-clad, hollow-bleeding-eyes Ben Drowned peered at me over it, something resembling a smirk on his face.

"Very much so."

I nearly shivered. Manipulative, indeed.

"You flatter me."

—

"So, what were you thinking of discussing, babe?"

"Really prefer it if you didn't call me that."