Chapter Text
Chase stood in the kitchen, he held a knife in his hand.
He wondered how Buddy felt, so often forced to do the same in their stories. Playing the part of some misunderstood mistress, backed into a corner, her only solace being that of a blade. What did being consistently shoved into that kind of box do to someone? Do to Buddy?
Was he making it worse? Constantly showing Buddy what good looked like? Chase thought he was helping, but maybe he was making Buddy feel self conscious, like he’d never be able to measure up and always be stuck on the side of evil.
He shook his head. No. If Buddy was upset, he would have told Chase by now. They trusted each other.
Chase finally raised his knife, slicing the apple into wedges and depositing them into a plastic baggie. They’d have a lot to talk about today during their mid story snack.