Evien had come by to check on him. Yet another first. It was hard to believe that someone would expend their energy and time on somebody else just for the sake of it. The idea was foreign and therefore dangerous to examine. He drops it like he has just touched a searing iron. 
More like the figurehead, he replies, polite and careful. Thanks for coming and checking on me. You're a good person. I don't know how you do it. I've been sleeping better. Ever since the meadow.
It was the truth, although it didn't mean much. And it wasn't often that Taylor said the truth. Out of anyone, Evien would know that best. That fact alone grates on his nerves. How had he allowed himself to become so knowable? He's gotten too comfortable. When his brother eventually, inevitably came around and said Taylor, we are just going to try this one thing, there would be no one but himself to blame.

The slant of Merrick's chin, his dark expression, the light carving a Rembrandt triangle out of his nose and cheek, he finds it hard to look away. Taylor smirks— I see what you did there. They were still teenagers in the end, after all.
He hangs on every word. You're going to join us? He asks, colored by self-consciousness, a hint of the German accent coming back like a rat's writhing tail under a cat's paw and he cringes. Clears his throat.
Something greedy inside of him wants Evien to say for you.