Chapter Eleven: The One With The Locked Cabinet

"People only think she's quiet because they didn't pay close enough attention. I'm sure you've seen a more outgoing version of her too; you lived with her. Her being quiet, though it's generally true, is almost like a stereotype that people have made specifically for her." Gianni sat down between the parked cars, his feet and bent knees carrying all of his weight. When he said it, he didn't seem like a liar or a fake. It's accurate, I have seen her act crazy and open, but it was rare, and a lot to accept that she'd show that without a problem to someone I never knew. Still, not unbelievable. That didn't mean him shifting to focus to me when we came here for him felt good. It meant that if he was the one that Mew put trust into, then I wanted to trust him too, so I'll be able to say I did.

"I just happened to be the person that was by her side when she decided to open up, and the person that didn't avoid listening. Some people take time and a lot of people give up too quickly. It's not deeper than that. You guys are acting like it's super huge. If you had any level of patience-." He chose not to finish his sentence, especially after getting a look at Rachel, and knowing how she can be, or really how she's been. It's as if it's hopeless they get along. They've been rivals from the beginning, and are only connected by a supposed late mutual friend. "It was a privilege to know that girl. Because of her, I felt like the person she would go to to let loose when she lived this cookie cutter life where everyone expected her to be perfect. Her being this people pleaser didn't make it any easier for her. I was in on something special; the free side of her. I loved that. I wouldn't trade that Camille for anything no matter how expensive or worthy."

I could tell Rachel was thinking this was some sort of pity story, and I didn't doubt that it could be, but at the same time, I wasn't here to shame him. The more he talks the more things will become clear, so I thought to let him be. Squatting down to his level to look him in the eye, made him talk, and his expressions matched to the words he said. His eyes sparkled and his happiness was too blissful to be mistaken for something else.

I could be so drawn to that that I had to keep reminding myself it was too early to make decisions about him. After all, Rachel already made hers and it would spare him nothing. Teaming with him can be a good thing. The truth will spill and I can decide whether it's good or bad. Now that's on patience. We've come this far. Why give up now? But at the same time, how can I respond without pissing off Rachel? "Blah blah blah. You were in love. Haven't been there. What's that like?"

"I feel bad for you, if you haven't experienced love. You're older than me too. Oof." Gianni stated, clicking his tongue three times, and with it, I did get an answer for one of my questions. It's impossible to not piss off Rachel. It could be directed at me and she's the one who comes out of it mad.

"Oh, please. Shang is 19, and that's still young, but we're 17. Barely 18 in your case. You're not over Camille, obviously. You were 15 then, and I'm almost certain she was your first, unless you're going to proudly admit right here and now that you're a playboy, but whatever the case first love isn't destined to last."

"It can, and sometimes it can't but first love is the most thrilling. That's why the saying 'first love never dies' exists. You remember that feeling forever even when you move on." He responded. He didn't feel any need to prove himself or to yell back at her, but the fond thoughts on his mind, softened him, and I think all of us. "When someone asks why did you fall in love with this person? - I always thought that the answer being because she's funny, smart, or pretty was good enough or that it was a proper answer, but I learned it wasn't. A lot of people can crack a joke, be a little geeky, or have a unique beauty. There's a lot of good people in this world and I've met so many of them, but Camille? I love her because she's Camille and there's no other way to put it. She's all of those things, and more. I wish she can annoy me for another lifetime over and over, on rewind. Based on how you're talking Rach, your first love experience was a bad one. Those are the only people that can talk like you are, and I'm sorry. Mine was beautiful. It ended too early, but the story was beautiful."

Rachel crossed her arms, her signature evil and wicked eye so sour you'd forget there's any other part of her body to exist. She wanted to fire something back at him, but couldn't come up with anything spectacular enough to say. When she knew there was nothing she could do, she dispersed her weight into the car behind her. The bitter look remained, stuck like permanent ink.

"Simp."

- - - - -

"You know, Rach. You remind me of the ocean." Gianni said, clearly joking, but flirtatiously. It made me want to shout for the two of them to get a room, but I knew darn well that was going to turn their rivalry against me. I've spent enough time with them to know that any kind word between the two of them isn't what it seems. That was one thing among this mess I could rely on to be true, even if he was playing with the strands of her hair, and cradling her face. I kept quiet, my hand barely letting go of the door knob as I let the three of us in, so it could massage the wall to find the light switch.

"Because I'm deep and mysterious?" As the lights flickered on, I found Rachel was up to play along with his game, her hands placed as dainty and girly as possible at his chest. It was a tactic she usually went for when she was flirting back with a man; the sway of the hair, the giggle, and the playful pushes. I could see the mockery in this one, knowing her, but if I was anyone else, I'd get the wrong idea. I wouldn't doubt for a second that she was enjoying his company. Thank God I was home alone.

Gianni pinched her cheeks in before dropping any sort of contact with her, and couldn't help but to laugh. It brought Rachel's irritated look back up to her face, only getting worse when he started talking. "No, because you're salty and you scare people. You contain that piece of seaweed that wraps around your ankle and pulls you into its dark dark abyss, inside of you. It's part of your personality."

"Idiots. Can you two be anymore obnoxious?" I let myself enter the conversation because now that we were getting to letting them in my house, it was feeling strange and I wanted to get it done. Passing through the front porch that held our mini store, until we could enter our house at its very back was weird. I haven't experienced it before; people following behind me when I did it, unless it was my own family. I've never been the hospitable type before, and this didn't count to be able to say I'm starting now, but it was something new. "Gianni, you have three minutes. Yes, I'm timing you. Then you owe us the explanation."

"Wow. You're really the get-what-you-came-for kind of person, aren't you?" He chuckled gently, taking more steps inside. I didn't know how to answer such a question, so I simply didn't. I silently watched him search my house, and that was it. He scanned the area, the first time he's done anything like it because of his dual with Rach, and wouldn't take his eye off the rooms of blink for that matter, even while he placed his jacket on our couch. He didn't throw anything around or rummage urgently through anything, but instead gave very careful glances to particular objects as if they'd expose something if he looked at them hard enough. "You have a nice house." He complimented casually, without making it some big deal.

"Thanks?" I muttered, not ready to accept any kind of words, but especially not a compliment. I stared up at the seconds hand running circles on the clock, in order to avoid if he decided to try small talk again. It was the worst and most useless form of speech that should be banned. "And you have ten seconds." I told him, reading the information I got out of it. In the entire process, he didn't have any shocked type of emotions and nothing seemed to have freaked him out, so as his time ticked down to zero, I was feeling confident that this would work out to my advantage and that nothing about me was suspicious. "You didn't find anything. Admit it to me now so we can get on with your story."

"Bold of you to assume I don't have any reason to be suspicious of you." Gianni responded, his walk draining the good spirit out of me; the type that was tough and intimidating. "Because I do. There's one piece of evidence that's not sitting very well with me, if I'm being honest with you, Shang."

"Alright? Spill." I tried to act like I wasn't shook up by his claim, but I'm nearly sure it didn't come out that way. I was freaked out, and I wasn't doing the best job at hiding it.

"I saw that you have a lock on your medicine cabinet in the bathroom. If I remember right Camille said back around the time she sprained her ankle, she specifically asked for it to be locked because she didn't even want to think that there were painkillers in her house, she was that afraid of them. She didn't even like the idea of someone else using them. Your family kept a key hidden somewhere that she didn't want to know about. Isn't that true?" He was calm when he spoke, feeling at ease enough to sit down into the couch, and rest his feet on the coffee table. I nodded. He was right. That was Mew's request and we kept the key stitched into a spot underneath the couch and never told her, like she asked. We've left the lock on since her death, just used to it being that way. "Okay. Second question then. Was the pill she overdosed on from your medicine cabinet?"

"Well, y-yeah. Two bottles were taken from there. One was almost empty and the other-."

"As I thought. The lock hasn't been replaced, correct? Do you see what that means, Crish? That means on the day Camille died, she wasn't home alone. She was with someone close enough to the family to know where the key is, because it was unlocked instead of being opened by force, and Camille isn't one of the people that can open it." He smacked his hand down on the table, the sound increasing the beat of my heart by three times, when it was already speeding up as was. "The first bet anyone would make with information like that is on you."

"Hey. Don't push it. I don't deserve any accusations. I'm the one that's chasing justice for Mew. Don't turn this on me." The pressure was painful. More painful than a stab could be. I guess bleeding out mentally has always been more painful than physically, because nobody sees it, and with as sucky as people are, when they don't see it, they don't understand it, and don't take it seriously, but something like this - I couldn't take it.

"Who were all the people who had access to that key then, Crish?"

"Why are you putting blame on me? What did I ever do to you that was this terrible? This shift - it's too much. It's impossible." My surroundings were going blurry when I thought it over. "N-no. Th-there must be some kind of mistake." I choked out. I felt buried by the aftermath of an earthquake, and it made my throat croaky and sore.

"Why, Shang? What's wrong?" Rachel asked, holding me up in a standing position. I was getting increasingly dizzy, and she caught that without being supported, my balance would fail me. What made that more intolerable is I brought this upon myself and to the people I have left. I allowed this to happen, and I couldn't lie after getting this far. A cover up of false information would make it worse.

"My parents and I. We're the only ones who knew about that key."