Chapter Ten: The One Where The Hills Are Chocolate

"Hella sus, Crish. He's hella sus." Rachel insisted, peeking around the building that blocked us from his sight if he were to turn around. I couldn't argue much with her when she led us right to him, from stalking his profile and nothing more, but I couldn't believe him to be that bad of a person to the extent Rachel was calling him, if he was bad at all. Her evidence wasn't fully useless, and that's already been proven by her move. I hated that.

Soon enough, I'd be having to admit I was wrong about him. I might be jumping to conclusions, but she made it feel like this would escalate in her direction. "As Facebook promised, he comes to Chocolate Hills a lot. Did you know it's the mid-point between Dauis and Talibon? Don't look at me and tell me that's not sus! Which way do you think he was coming from this time? North or south?"

"You play too many video games. Get off the App Store sometime soon. You'll go brain dead." I rolled my eyes to topple the subject over like that dumb decision in a game of Jenga, and she didn't let me get away with it without a joking, yet warning punch to my stomach. She was careless about my reaction, so I didn't make an effort to hide the minor pain, but what caught me off guard is when she jumped from our hiding spot and headed anything but discreetly toward Gianni, who was admiring the tranquil scenery.

Not wanting to involve myself with her lack of brain cells, I lowered my voice, trying to picture myself anywhere else but here. If I wished hard enough, can I disappear? Can a whisper-scream be enough of a beg to the Gods to drag her back in the right mind? "Rachel, what the heck are you doing? Rachel! Get back over here! Showing ourselves to him was not part of the plan."

"No, Crish. You get over here." She drew out her speech, with the intentions I take her seriously. By the gesture of her index finger, she expected me to follow her. As I obeyed, coming nearer I could see the surprise written all over her face, from peering over Gianni's shoulder. He was full on aware that we were here, and mad because of it, probably because he had a feeling of what we were up to.

"Look at that." Rachel stated, pointing at the phone in his hands with her lips as if he wasn't there, refusing to let this go. Taking the glance she wanted me to, Gianni's recent search had articles coming up about hiding bodies, keeping a murder on the down-low, fooling officers and the like and he did it in such a peaceful place, separated from everyone else. He didn't even try to hide it from us though, as it sat there that way without any movement of his.

"Before you go off, no, I'm not a serial killer." He finally made the attempt to defend himself, turning his phone off and putting it into his back pocket. He was still like a statue for too long. "This happens a lot when you're a writer. You get crap like this. I'm at a place with good scenery for the inspiration, and I'm in the middle of a crime-like genre that needs this kind of search - typical writer shyet that just so happens to be in the middle of some random investigation you've brought upon me." He breathes out, turning around so he had eye contact with the both of us at once. He was sweating which I don't know to source to his anxiousness or the hot sunny day, but his tension was at a climax, and I couldn't say why.

"But I'm getting the feeling you both showed up here, not just because you felt like it, and if this is driving you off, that means you were suspecting me, weren't you? You think I'd do something like that? Kill my best friend? The love of my life? That's painful and offensive. Don't you think you should talk to me first about what's making you doubt me instead of just assume? At least let me share my side before you claim you know the whole story. You're obviously missing my point of view. Rachel, I expected this from you but Crishia? What are you doing?"

Rachel opened her mouth to speak three times, only to close it again each of her tries. I couldn't get that far once. She knew she was wrong, and I knew that this was the most insane thing I've ever got myself into, but as she's always been she didn't want to say anything was her fault, and I wasn't going to point fingers. We've all seen how that turns out the hard way. "If we were to confront you from the very beginning, and you defend yourself, it could just get more confusi-." She tried to argue with him.

"Really? Is that the best defense you got?" Gianni stated, no expression on his face besides the raise at his brows, that basically dared her to continue with her shallow excuse.

"Fine. I was wrong. Can we talk to you in a more private place?" Rachel gave up, inhaling into her mouth and exhaling out of her nose from frustration. Without waiting to get an answer out of him, she tugged at the back of his shirt until he got up to minimize stretching it, and he followed her on his own will to the parking lot. He was ready to listen before she was ready to speak, but she did fill him in. "I called some of my friends from the city you said you went to school and where Mew went to dance. They said there was never a Gianni Jules attending their school. It makes it look like you made everything up, and never properly met Camille. She had a different partner with a different name - it made you suspicious. You obviously lied and you're the only one to explain Camille as this wild party animal. Nothing adds up. You can't blame me for that, can you?"

Gianni held his face in his hands. "Dang it, I knew this would be an issue. I didn't know it would be this soon, but I knew it would be an issue." Rachel and I glanced at each other, failing to understand where he was coming from, and we waited eagerly for him to finish whatever explanation he started, that put him in a position to owe it to us. "Look, if I explain everything to you I'll have to go deep into my history and where I come from. It's a really long story that I promise I will tell you about, but this is proving what I've always believed. People that are truly close to Camille will have suspecting sides of themselves. That's just how it works. The police will interrogate people close to the victim, not random people in the area, at least at first. That's how it is. There's probably suspicious stuff about you too, Shang. Sister or not, blood or water, it's what happens."

"There's nothing suspicious about me." Maybe I was being a little paranoid or thin skinned about what wasn't necessarily an accusation, and I didn't have reason to shield myself, but that's part of who I am. Under the slightest bit of pressure, I was already freaked out. It didn't make me guilty. It made me real. It made me human. Besides, switching the subject from him to me out of nowhere wasn't expected. Does he view me as an easy target to change the subject for his own good? I anchored my feet into the ground, curling my toes until he would say something again.

"Can you prove that?"

"There's nothing to prove. It's fact. I have nothing to hide."

"Naive little Crish-Crish. Every fact needs evidence to back it up, doesn't it? And nearly everything comes for a price." For what the moment was, Gianni had too big of a smile on his face that was unsettling and kind of creepy - more than I wanted to say. "I'll tell you what, Shang. If you want to know my history, and what'll make you two look like a couple of idiots for thinking that I'd do something so extreme, you have to let me in your house, and give me the chance to find something on you. If I come up with nothing or everything, I'll tell you my story regardless. You said you have nothing to hide. It's more on your side than mine. Game?"

"You don't have to agree to anything like that, Shang. That's nonsense. It's common sense you wouldn't do that to your own sister and it's risky to allow him to do something when we barely know anything about him. What if he makes false evidence?" Rachel barged in. It's the most worried I've ever seen her in a pretty long while, and it appeared she liked it better when she or Gianni were on the suspect list as long as it wasn't me. I don't know what her intention or reasoning is, but I felt bad I ever suspected her myself. I still wondered what part of me was right. I don't trust anyone with a complete heart anymore. When was me not trusting someone for the better, and the other way around?

"It is common sense, Rach. You're right. I'm not thinking anything of her. I'm not thinking she's supposed to be in prison, or that she had blood on her hands. I'm simply trying to prove my point. No more, no less. Plus, if you do want to know anything about me, this is going to be your only route to getting it. I don't have to tell you anything."

Gianni being this unshakable, and with an approach that didn't seem to do me any harm in the minute was enough to get me to agree. If I was being careless about risks with everything going on or if it felt right, or it was somewhere in between - it can be anything at this point, but I was tired of debating with myself. "Okay, game."

"What!" Rachel didn't want to accept what she heard. "You're gonna let him into your house? That's unbelievable. One moment he's a suspect and the next second you're on his side. Before you change your mind, you should have a reason for it. There's so many ways it can go wrong. You're acting on impulse and that never goes well. How do we come here with one focus and leave with a different one? It's absurd. We need more information out of him first. Then we can see about that from what we know. I should've known coming here with you would be a bad idea. He flipped this scenario and you're not trying to fight it! This was on our turf and you screwed it up!"

She shifted her attention to Gianni, anger at its peak. I had no room to respond to her with how fast she went on, and secretly, I liked it better that way. "And you! Why have you been kept a secret all this time? She couldn't tell us about you? Camille has told me everything; it's always been that way. I would know you exist! What do you even know about Camille?"

"What do I know about Camille? Evidently more than you've known being beside her your entire life." His stance and his voice were far from contradicting. They were so in line with each other that it looked like he took her question as a challenge he already knew he was going to win. The smirk on his face when he talked showed he viewed our reactions to be predictable before we even let anything be expressed.

"Camille was the most annoying person I've ever met." He started. I had difficulty reading the tone of his voice, but it didn't sound bad or resentful. It was purely neutral. "Literally the most annoying person I've ever known, but it was worse that people wouldn't believe me when I said so. That girl can talk my ear off about irrelevant topics that just as well be a language of the cave men because I never knew what she was going on about. She has some attitude too. I swear to the living God, sometimes she just wants to argue like it's some sort of hobby. She can probably go two minutes tops without complaining about something and that's it. She's the type to care too much about stuff I say that didn't fricking matter, or the type to care too little when I was trying to be serious. Once she picked a fight with me over pineapples belonging on pizza, pissed for seven days straight that I said they shouldn't be. Yet, it took her almost the whole year we had knowing each other to say she loves me, even when I said it over and over again. She's the most annoying woman I've ever known, but-."

"That sounds nothing like Mew. Right, Shang? It doesn't sound anything like her!" Gianni trailed off, so Rachel wasn't interrupting, but it felt like it. I was listening more intently than I realized, trying to imagine this side of her, and the more I pictured it the more it wasn't surprising. It made sense. Pieces of the puzzle started to fit together. Am I possessed or hypnotized or something? How could a person say so many bad things about a person and still seem to talk so- is this, lovingly? Or can it be for show?

I ignored Rachel, and put my hand on his to signal I was listening. Our gaze stuck for a few moments, which I used to get the conversation back to where it was originally heading. I wanted to give him a chance to say what he wanted to. Then I should have enough information to make a safer judgement. All I need is time.

"But what?"