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There’s a knock at the door. She calls something out to Eugene as she comes to answer it.
But he’s not standing there. Instead, Tyler is standing there. In a suit. He smiles a little.
“Hi. I wasn’t sure if you really wanted me here, but then your letter-it was so sincere…”
She stares at him, blankly. He’s holding a piece of paper loosely between his fingertips, in the familiar parchment from her typewriter.
“Of course it was,” she says. Her heart is throbbing. She wonders if this is what a heart attack feels like.
It isn’t as pleasant as she’d expected.
She slams the door in his face.
Thing is sitting on the bed. It shrugs at her, then crawls underneath the bed to produce the dress she liked.
And yes, she did like the dress. She liked the idea of waltzing into the ball with all eyes on her, in their snow white dresses. To dance with everyone watching, and revel in their disappointment.
Yes, she so wants that.
But she doesn’t want to take Tyler.
She realises she’s being petulant. That she’s technically invited him now, despite not inviting him, and that she ought to honour the promise, go in the dress and dance with the flair that her mother taught her.
She doesn’t want to go, though, and for some reason Thing’s behaviour stings more than it ought to.
And not in the pleasant way.
It’s stupid, but tears spring to her eyes. She blinks them away, as tears don’t actually do anything, but there’s enough of them to make it a valiant effort. She knows she’s upset.
The why confounds her, though.
Thing is not unkind in its intentions. It is tempting to demonise it, to lock it away and not care for the consequences, but she knows it was being kind. She likes Tyler. He’s not like the other normies, he smiles at her, makes her coffee. And no, she isn’t naive enough to believe that he does not have other intentions, but her mother has always said it is better to be above such things.
And she wants to be above such things.
Thing is looking at her.
She glares at it.
It bows to her.
She wants to cry.
The idea of going with Tyler is not favourable to her. She doesn’t know which way to turn, and the dress taunts her from her bed.
Her face curls into a twisted smile. She has the dress. She has the boy. She has the kindness and love and the big bright room that everyone expects her to want.
And she’s so desperately unhappy that it threatens to choke her.
She laughs.
She laughs, and laughs, until Thing is hovering near her toes and tears stream down her face. She laughs until she can’t breathe, well past that even, until she’s gasping and sobbing, rocking back and forth.
She knows it’s not good. That she needs to decide, not leave Tyler outside with no way of knowing what’s going on.
But she can’t move.
She sits, completely numb, as he knocks, again and again, until his voice disappears.
The thought of him being turned off by this appeals to her. She wants him to hover near her. She wants his friendship. She doesn’t want his romance.
She doesn’t want any romance.
The thought appears quite suddenly and rather uncalled for, but the calmness of the concept appeals.
She doesn’t want romance.
Eugene’s voice appears not long after, calling to go out. She pulls a jacket over her things and smiles a new, more private smile, a secret between her and Thing.
“If you do this again, or tell anyone-“
He bows again. She nods.
Good. They don’t have time for romance. There's a monster to catch.