#— some classic pre confession stuff .... all this and evan says (1) thing . im sry

[faerus]

"i can't keep lying to myself about my feelings." ( evan ) @paramcur

evan has never known teddy to be a liar of any kind. he knows liars -- he sees them condescending, bristled by other people's strangeness, unnerved with a stiff smile when they juggle a conversation, when they're squeezed for an opinion. he doesn't blame them for the wariness, not when evan knows himself riddled with literal demons, bent out of shape by a menu of bad, bad, experiences. he wades through interactions wounded, teeth bared -- until teddy. and teddy is sincere from day one. he asks questions, invites evan to things, shares his figurative bruises, and laments them. he's often teasing, yes -- all gestured hands and pliant grin, dripping sympathy like impulse, like sweat. his aches get twisted up with a dry sarcasm, his triggers cradled with a snort. but he doesn't lie. so his shoulders rise to the crook of his jaw when teddy speaks, face scrunched and clearly bothered with unnamed feeling -- and evan flushes. he feels strangely guilty now, anxious at the coming reveal, and then anxious again at the potential good. (he can't read teddy's gaze with a hundred percent certainty -- but his breath comes out short, staccato panic building. feelings, he says. they're unaddressed and vague, but evan has seen ten things i hate about you, and princess diaries, and but i'm a cheerleader, and they often talk about this too. feelings. they're overwhelming and cycle and make people insane, and evan wants an answer.) he swallows something audible, brown eyes wide and expecting. "what sort of feelings?"