Chapter Twelve: The Rumor
Writer's POV - Age 15
The rumors started three days after Evan smiled at her in the library.
Fabiola first heard them in the bathroom between second and third period.
" ...obsessed with him. It's pathetic."
"I mean, I get it. He's got that whole tortured, mysterious thing going on. But he's literally insane."
"My brother was at that party. He said Evan just stood there while Lucas drowned. Like he wanted it to happen."
"That's so messed up."
"And she's just throwing herself at him. Fabiola Morales, the freak whisperer."
Laughter echoed off the tile walls.
Fabiola stood frozen in the stall, hand pressed to her mouth, cheeks burning.
Freak whisperer.
The name stuck.
By lunch, everyone was using it. Whispered in hallways, scrawled on bathroom stalls, passed in notes between classes.
Fabiola Morales: Freak Whisperer.
Does she know he's crazy?
Maybe she's crazy too.
Amy found her hiding in the library during lunch, eyes red from crying.
"Hey." Amy sat down beside her, wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Don't listen to them. They're idiots."
"They called me the freak whisperer."
"Yeah, I heard. It's mean and stupid and...."
"Is it true?" Fabiola's voice cracked. "Am I obsessed with him? Is that what everyone sees?"
Amy was quiet for a moment. "Do you like him?"
"Yes."
"Like, like him like him?"
Fabiola nodded miserably.
"Does he like you back?"
"I don't know. Maybe. He's... complicated."
"Complicated how?"
How could she explain? The way Evan scented her like she was oxygen. The way he looked at her like she was light in his darkness. The way he talked about hunger and emptiness and being half of something.
"He's been through a lot," Fabiola said finally. "His brother died. He's struggling. And I just... I want to help."
"You can't save people, Fabby."
"I'm not trying to save him. I'm just trying to be his friend."
"Is that all you want to be?"
Fabiola didn't answer.
Because the truth was complicated. She was fifteen years old and didn't fully understand what she felt for Evan Harlow. It was too big, too intense, too consuming to be just friendship.
But it wasn't quite love either.
Not yet.
It was something in between. Something that made her chest ache and her hands shake and her whole world tilt toward him like he was gravity.
"He's dangerous for you," Amy said softly. "Not because he's bad. But because you care too much. And people like you people with big hearts you get hurt when you care too much."
"I don't care."
"That's the problem. You should care. You should protect yourself."
"From what? From being kind? From caring about someone who needs it?"
"From losing yourself in someone else's darkness."
The words hit too close to home.
Because part of Fabiola knew Amy was right. Knew that the way she orbited Evan wasn't entirely healthy. That she was making him her project, her purpose, her everything.
But she couldn't stop.
Didn't want to stop.
Because when Evan looked at her, she felt seen. Like she mattered. Like she was more than just another face in the crowd.
And God help her, she was addicted to that feeling.
After school, Fabiola found Evan by his locker.
He was alone, as always, shoving books into his bag with mechanical precision.
"Hey," she said softly.
He looked up, and something in his expression softened. "Hey."
"Can we talk?"
He nodded, and they walked to the empty stairwell at the back of the building, their usual spot when they needed privacy.
Fabiola leaned against the railing, gathering her courage.
"People are talking about us."
Evan's jaw tightened. "What are they saying?"
"That I'm obsessed with you. That you're..." She hesitated. "That you're dangerous. Crazy. That I'm stupid for being your friend."
Evan closed his eyes. "They're right."
"What?"
"You are stupid for being my friend. I've told you that from the beginning." He opened his eyes, and the pain in them was visceral. "You should listen to them, Fabiola. Stay away from me before..."
"Before what?" She stepped closer. "Before you what, Evan? Hurt me? You've never hurt me. Not once."
"Not yet."
"Not ever."
"You don't know that." His voice rose, desperate. "You don't know what's inside me. What I'm capable of. What I..." He stopped, pressed his hands to his face. "God, I can feel it sometimes. This thing inside me, watching, waiting. And it wants... it wants..."
"Wants what?"
"You." The word came out broken. "It wants you. Wants to consume you, possess you, take you. And I'm so afraid that one day I won't be able to stop it."
Fabiola's heart hammered, but she didn't step back. "What thing, Evan? What are you talking about?"
He shook his head. "I can't explain. You'll think I'm insane."
"I already think you're insane. And I'm still here."
Despite everything, Evan's lips twitched. Almost a smile.
Then his expression turned serious. He stepped closer, close enough that Fabiola could feel the cold radiating off him.
"I need you to understand something," he said quietly. "When I'm near you, I feel... alive. Like there's warmth in the world again. Like maybe I'm not completely lost." His hand came up, fingers hovering near her face but not quite touching. "But that same feeling—it scares me. Because I want more. I want all of you. Your time, your attention, your warmth. And I don't know if I can trust myself to take only what you're willing to give."
"Then I'll tell you when it's too much."
"Will you?" His eyes searched hers. "Or will you keep giving until there's nothing left? Because that's what you do, Fabiola. You give and give and never ask for anything back."
"Maybe I don't need anything back."
"Everyone needs something back."
"Then give me you," Fabiola said fiercely. "Stop hiding. Stop running. Stop pushing me away every time we get close. Just... be you. That's all I want."
Evan stared at her like she'd asked for the impossible.
"You want the real me?" His voice was dangerous. Challenging. "The me that has nightmares every night? The me that talks to shadows? The me that can't go near the lake without hearing my brother's voice? The me that's so fucking broken I don't even know how to be normal anymore?"
"Yes," Fabiola said without hesitation. "All of it. Every broken piece."
Evan's control shattered.
He grabbed her, pulled her against him, and buried his face in her hair.
And scented her.
Desperate. Hungry. Like a man starving.
"You're going to destroy me," he whispered against her hair. "Your kindness is going to break me into pieces."
"Then let me put you back together."
His arms tightened around her. "I don't think I can be fixed."
"Maybe you don't need to be fixed. Maybe you just need to be held."
Evan shuddered, and Fabiola felt something wet on her shoulder.
He was crying.
Silently, desperately, holding her like she was the only thing keeping him from falling apart.
And Fabiola held him back, ignoring the cold seeping into her bones, ignoring the whispers in her head that said this was too much, too intense, too dangerous.
Because Evan Harlow needed her.
And she needed to be needed.
Even if it consumed her.
Even if it destroyed her.
Even if somewhere in the darkness, something hungry smiled.
Finally.