Rewrite Some Lines

In the days that passed after arriving in New York, Evan and Skye met up with a friend of hers and got their own personal tour around the city, going in and applying for jobs at the places they saw hiring. Evan managed to get a job as a jack of all trades man in a small clothing boutique. He got to wear some of the clothing as a sort of in store model while he did a majority of the tasks around the place like refolding clothing and helping customers, among other things. Skye, on the other hand, managed to get a job at a restaurant as a waitress, though she did not like it much and planned to continue looking for something better.

At first, they both roomed in the same rundown apartment together, in order to get themselves together and not have to worry as much about rent since they would be splitting it. This also allowed them to save up some extra funds for their own apartments when the time came. Once they both fell into a routine, the days melted into weeks. The weeks, months; the months, years. Time flew away from them without either of them seeing what was happening in the process.

Evan had gotten somewhat dependent on Skye always being close by, always being there when he needed someone to talk to or someone to sit with him and allow him to be moody while shrugging off the stress from the day's work. They only lived with each other for a year or so, give or take. But when they split apart they did not move far away. Evan went a few blocks down to a nicer apartment building, as his work paid well enough to afford it easily. Skye, on the other hand, moved farther from the heart of the city and into a cramped yet clean apartment. They both saw each other on a regular basis, though Skye noticed, perhaps a little too late, how distant Evan had become.

He no longer opened up about things in his life besides trivial work related occurrences. He was quick to judge people where normally he would at least give them a chance to piss him off. Now, he would just scowl at the nearest person available if he was in a bad mood. He no longer joked; he got his beautifully wavy hair cropped close - something which upset Skye more than she would have guessed.

Skye was worried about him now. Genuinely worried he would do something stupid before she got the time to fix whatever was hurting him inside. She knew the signs. She had seen a special on it a few weeks ago. First comes the psychological changes, personality, attitude, that sort of thing. Then the physical changes: the cutting of his hair, he worked out more now, and even started up smoking.

Skye pulled her coat tightly around her frail body, rubbing her gloved hands before shoving them deeply into her warm pockets. If there was one thing about New York she wanted to complain about, it was the winter cold. There seemed to be so much of it, everywhere. Even in the buildings, with the heaters, the cold followed you and seeped into your very being, permeating your flesh until you were one with it, and it did not leave you until the spring flowers began to bloom. And even then, you would still feel it lingering inside, just waiting to come out again next winter. She hated it, having gone through four winters already, this being her fifth.

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Saturday seemed to be the only day Evan could get to himself these days. For the past month or so his boss had been calling him in on Sunday to work since he knew Evan needed the money and liked the work to keep his mind off things. Whatever it was he needed to keep his mind off of, his boss did not know, but he understood the man's reasons for what he did. Evan tended to work more productively when he was in a bad mood, which was almost every day now.

Evan smashed the dying cigarette in the ashtray in front of him, bringing his empty hand up to rub the stubble on his cheeks thoughtfully. "I need to shave..." He muttered to himself, staring blankly at the naked wall to his left. His apartment barely had any decoration. It had enough to live comfortably with, sure, but not enough to look lived in. Evan stood up from his chair and shuffled into the kitchen, intent on looking for a snack of some sort, but upon opening the fridge, finding only a jar of pickles and some long spoiled milk. He sighed, moving away and letting the door close on its own before exploring the cupboards.

A vacant box of saltines and some stale bread greeted him. He turned around from the cupboards with a frown and closed his eyes, leaning against the counter and cupping his face in his hands. He swallowed thickly to control his emotions before dragging himself away from the counter and into his bathroom.

The image that greeted him startled him at first. Normally on his days off he would simply stay in bed and maybe watch a show on the T.V before going back to bed for the remainder of the day. He never once looked at himself in the mirror when he had no intentions of going out. And now, to see this other man looking at him from the smudged glass, Evan could almost hear the pain he saw inside this man's eyes.

When had it gotten to this point? When had he let himself deteriorate so much to where he could no longer recognize his own face? Who was he now?

Evan gritted his teeth and gave the mirror a half hearted punch which only served to hurt his knuckles, doing no damage whatsoever to the glass itself. He held his hand gingerly against his stomach, glaring at the mirror for the pain it caused, though he knew it was his fault. Everything was always his fault, wasn't it? It was his fault his father walked out on his mother, it was his fault Jason had attacked him, it was his fault for making Rea believe he was interested when he was not, it was his fault Skye was pulling away from him...

Dear God, what had be become?

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Evan next found himself in his chair again, another cigarette in his hand, ignored. He heard his doorbell three times before he registered what that awful noise was. He went over to the intercom, pressing the button to let Skye in, without even asking who it was. He knew she was the only person around who would bother visit him, and he was not too thick headed to know why. Evan knew he was being a jackass to everyone, but he just did not see the point in those superficial relationships when he had a tight knit one with someone already. His friendship with Skye was probably the only thing keeping him going at this point. He took a long drag on cigarette he held in his hand, though he had let nearly half of it burn away while he stared out his window into the cold streets, watching the people below hurry about, living their lives through their work. It almost made him sick.

Or perhaps that was the smell of the cigarette in his nose. Evan grimaced, his nose scrunching up in disgust before he leaned forward and crushed the remainder of the offending object in a nearby cup. He hated the fact he would take up an act so ridiculously weak. He did not need the cigarette to calm down or to feel good; it was merely an item he liked to hold while thinking about things. Yes. He would tell himself that.

He dug around in his pants on his way to the door to allow Skye entrance. After a moment, he located the small tin of mints he kept and popped two in his mouth, letting the harsh flavor take over that of the smoke. He heard a knock on his door and opened it before a second could come. A gave a grunt and a nod of the head in greeting, standing back so Skye could come inside.

"Hello to you, too." Skye muttered, looking decidedly grumpy, which was an uncommon expression on her face.

"What's with you?" Evan resumed sitting in his favorite chair, his eyes darting from the still smoldering cigarette to Skye and back again.

Skye chose to occupy the couch. "I'm worried."

Evan sighed. He saw this coming. "You know," He started, moving his gaze from the ashtray to the window. He could not look at her right now. "I'm already twenty-seven. I’m going to be thirty in a few years. How weird is that? Where the hell did the time go, Skye?" He closed his eyes, his mouth forming a thin line. "Soon enough, at this rate, I'll be forty, then fifty. Maybe I'll make it to sixty, but then what? What have I got to show for it?" He paused, casting a quick look toward Skye before returning to the window.

"I haven't done jack shit with my life. What if I died tomorrow? You and my boss would be the only people who cared enough to know." Evan scooted to the edge of his chair, resting his arms on his knees then his face in his hands. "That's a rather sad existence, if you ask me." He nearly whispered, his voice laced with some emotion Skye could not place.

Skye opened her mouth to say something, but stopped herself before she could. What was there to say? I'm sorry you feel that way, Evan, but get over it? No, no. That would never work. She frowned, not at all liking the feeling of being unable to help her friend when he needed her most. "Ev, look at me." She commanded finally, after a tense silence fell upon the room.

Evan turned his head, his eyes peeking out from between his fingers. "Hm?"
Skye stood up, coming over to him and crouching down in front of him, gathering up his hands into her own and squeezing them tightly. "Now listen to me, no interruptions, okay?" A nod in agreement. "Good. Now, I think I know what might help. I've got a cousin I've sort of reunited with over the last few years, and I want you two to meet. I'd think you'd like Jess." She said gently, trying to get him to look her in the eyes, which he had been unable to do for some time now. "Okay? Maybe getting away from here for a while might help. Go back home, see some familiar surroundings and meet with the family. Yeah?"

Evan looked up from the floor, his brows furrowed in confusion. "Back home? You mean St. Louis? Why?"

"Well," Skye started, looking at Evan with a soft smile. "My cousin lives down there still, though more in the suburbs, really. Jess just got some rooms added on to the house, so we can stay as long as we want. Besides, it'll do you some good to get away from this stuffy apartment for a while. I'm sure your boss wouldn't mind. Not like you take time off normally."

Evan sighed, looking particularly forlorn, though something about his eyes had changed. Perhaps a spark of happiness? Or maybe Skye was just being too hopeful. "Does this mean I have to ride in a fuckin' plane again?" He asked, a slight smirk on his face.

Skye could have cried. "Yes, you have to ride in a plane again, Ev." She said, her voice only quivering a little bit. She sat up and pulled Evan into a tight hug, pressing the side of her face again his, feeling his day old stubble scratch her cheek, but she did not mind in the least. She had her Evan back. Well, at least some of him, anyway. "We can leave on Friday, to give your boss notice, and also so I can get all my stuff I'll be needing packed and ready to go. You know how I travel." She joked, pulling away from the hug only once she noticed Evan had started to get uncomfortable with the close proximity. "I need to go now, my shift starts in about a half hour and the traffic at this time of day is horrible." She ruffled his hair and slid her hand across his jaw in a loving manner on her way out the door. "See you in a bit, Ev. Be good."

"See ya," Evan called after her, though his door had already shut. Well, this was an interesting change of events. Here he was, contemplating his continued existence only a few minutes ago, and now his mind raced about all the things - or people - he might encounter back home. Funny how he still thought of that city as home, even when all his belongings were in a different state now. Was this not home?

He decided that no, this apartment was not home. Hell, this city was not even home. Home is where the heart is, correct? Then, he reasoned, home was wherever Skye happened to drag him, as his heart was with her.

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A/N: Sorry about another short chapter, but it's leading up to the meat of the story. Enjoy~