[zapdragon555]

"I do, though," Cyril countered gently, reaching to take the chicken from her and carefully laid it down on the cutting board in place of the pepper. "I'm away so often, I never do a thing to make it up to you. That isn't right of me," he mused softly, slicing the knife into the chicken methodically, almost mechanically, a practiced air to his movements despite having rarely cooked. He caught the slight tremble still in her voice, and he decided keeping her talking would be a good idea. "Are you still painting, lately? What sort of pieces have you done?"

[Baconwizard]

Ava stirred at the frying vegetables with a spatula, her movements controlled but somewhat jerky. Her hand clutched at the handle of the frying pan, white-knuckled. Cyril make it up to her? Make what, exactly, up to her? How could he make everything up to her?! The cleanups, the constant acceptance, the calm voice of reason when he had gone off on one of his rages? She'd had to start all over for him, and she did it because she loved him, but now Ava would have to do it all over again. And he was making up for Ava cooking him dinner. Her hand trembled slightly on the pan, making it rattle against the stovetop, and Ava gasped, blinking out of her daze. Oh, she was crying again... Trying her best to ignore the tearstains on her cheeks, Ava watched the vegetables sizzle in the pan, the oils bubbling up around them into steam. "Ah––um... y-yeah, I did a painting of the backyard, a few days ago. It's still drying right now."

[zapdragon555]

If Cyril noticed the condition she was in, he was pretending not to. He still wore the same soft smiling mask on his face as he sliced through the flesh of the chicken, cutting it into sizable chunks. The silence that passed between them held an air of tenseness, as he watched the knife slice open the fried meat. Under other circumstances, he would've liked to stay. He really would've. But it was dangerous for him to stay in one place for too long, and in this case, a potentially dangerous demon had just taken a weapon that belonged to Cyril. Even so... "Mm," he murmured softly in response to her words, sliding half of the chopped chicken to the side to make room for the other half. "Perhaps it will be dry by tomorrow..."

[Baconwizard]

Something finally frayed inside of Ava at Cyril's serene, calm words. With a sharp intake of breath, Ava turned the stove off with a click, the vegetables still sizzling in the pan. She turned away, going to get two bowls for each of them. The blue one for Cyril, the green one for her. "It doesn't matter if it dries or not," she said, her voice coming out thick with tears. No, that's not how she wanted to sound. Ava wanted her voice to sound angry, to cut Cyril, to hurt him, to let him know how much he was hurting her. She began to shovel the stir fry into the bowls, little chunks of mushroom and onion falling onto the countertop. Her mouth tried to twist up into a smile, but it was shaking too much, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to explode out of her. "I-I mean... we're going to leave tomorrow, anyway, right? S-so there's no point in keeping it anymore."

[zapdragon555]

Cyril's hands froze at Ava's outburst, and he stared at the knife in his hands for a long moment, almost flinching. Ava's words didn't sting him so much as the sudden anger in her voice, and his blue eyes slid from the bowls to her face. At the sight of so many tears on her face, he felt something behind his eyes snap, and he slapped the knife down on the cutting board roughly, making a knocking sound that echoed slightly in the small house. "If you're trying to make me feel like shit, it's working," he snapped, turning sharp eyes to her face, though he looked like he was grimacing, trying to keep a reign on some hot feeling rising up in his throat instead of angry. After a moment of silence his face twisted into a kind of odd, unsettling smirk. "But I guess that's fine. I've made you feel like worse than that," he said, his voice far gentler, quiet, the same as before. With a breath of air his face was back to normal, a gentle smile in her direction. "Let's eat. Here, let me add this," he murmured, dividing the chicken between them both. Keep it together. Keep it together. Set an example. Something like that...

[Baconwizard]

Ava jumped as Cyril slammed down the knife, her eyes turning to stare at him, wide and watery. When he glared at her, her chest constricted, almost as if he was stabbing her with his gaze. A shuddering breath entered and exited her lungs, and for a long moment, Ava tried to process what was happening. She had no idea what was going on anymore. Everything was crumbling, but Cyril was smiling now, but she couldn't do it. She wasn't strong enough. She had promised, she had promised to stay. She loved Cyril, she really did, but now her heart hurt so much, and she was so, so tired. Her face screwed up, anger and sadness and all of her conflicting emotions lending to the tears spilling down her cheeks, and Ava pushed herself away from the counter. "I'm not hungry," she managed to say, the words biting on their way out. Trying not to run, Ava made a beeline towards the bathroom, closing it hard behind her. She took a gasping breath, realizing that she hadn't done that in awhile, her exhale turning more into a shaking sob.

[zapdragon555]

Cyril had almost seemed to detect the tension crackling in the air, building up behind some false veneer of calm until it had burst with his shouting and fizzled out with Ava suddenly running away. Cyril stared at the place she had been for a few moments, before his eyes flashed to the bathroom door. Instinct told him to follow, to stay close to her because that's what was best, now. It's what she wanted, wasn't it? He'd been away for so long, so being with her often would make her feel better...? But no, it was far more complicated than that. She was far more complicated than that. He should know better.

But he truly had wanted things to be simple, after all of that. He thought he'd be calm, after driving that knife deep into that demon's hide, but it had only riled him up more. Cyril stared at the knife on the cutting board, then at the food. He sighed tensely out his nose and picked up his fork, beginning to stab some of the stir fry and eat it with slow, contemplative bites. Perhaps there could be some way they could stay. But it would involve Cyril staying by Ava's side at all times, which would, of course, be far too dangerous. It was out of the question.

[Baconwizard]

In the bathroom, Ava took huge, gulping breaths of air, sobs bubbling up where exhalations should have been. She stumbled towards the toilet, her hands going to her mouth to stifle the small, pathetic noises leaking out of her. Kneeling down on the floor, Ava stared into the basin of the toilet, wondering if she was going to get sick. Her stomach was flopping every which way, but it was also growing tighter, constricting in the very center of her being. Dimly, in the back of her mind, Ava didn't mind the thought of throwing up, if it would make the horrible feeling in her gut go away. She grabbed some toilet paper, using it to wipe away the snot and tears that kept appearing on her face. Why couldn't she stop crying?! This was no way to deal with the problem! She should go back out to Cyril and apologize, and talk––really talk––about why the thought of moving away scared her so much. He would listen, Ava knew, but... she couldn't bring herself to get up off the cold tile of the bathroom floor.

Sniffling, Ava made a sob-sighing noise, every sound and movement amplified slightly in the tile room. Everything was just so messed up. Part of Ava wished that she had just stayed asleep. Leave it to Ava to make friends with an energy sucking demon. And to think... he had been her friend. He liked the tea she made, and he was good as listening... Ava scrubbed at her cheeks, unable to scrub away the hurt that smarted in her chest. It was her fault, she knew. But it wasn't a crime to make a friend, was it? Ava wished she could talk with Cyril about it. But now he was mad, and talking with him would only make them both feel worse, because in the end, Cyril would make them leave, regardless of what she felt.