Flightless Bird

chapter six: moonlight sonata

{ chapter six: moonlight sonata.

My first instinct was to scream. Looking around desperately, I tried to run when I realized I was alone, but a second hand grabbed my arm and held me in place. Pure fear took over as I thrashed around, just trying to get free and run. I managed to back the guy up against the wall and stomp on his foot, which resulted in a pained grunt. Filled with a sense of triumph, I quickly gutted him with my elbow, which forced him to release his grip on my arm, and I spun around to punch --

“Vick!?”

Groaning as he wrapped an arm around his middle, Vick fell back against the bricks for support. “I forgot how jumpy you are,” he managed while wincing, trying to lighten up the mood.

“What the hell is wrong with you!?” More out of instinct than anything, my fist shot out to punch his shoulder, which he responded to with another pained grunt. “I thought you were some creep!” Even now the pounding of my heart refused to slow down.

“Yeah, all creeps nest around theaters,” he replied sarcastically, rubbing his shoulder.

Exhaling as I pressed a hand against my chest, I tried to calm my frazzled nerves. “What are you even doing out here?” I asked, furrowing my brow. “I’d expect the theater owner’s son to be present during a play’s matinee.”

He shrugged. “I hate Romeo and Juliet. Besides, I have to show up to every weekend showing; I have five more opportunities to sit through the whole thing.”

Despite myself, I couldn’t hold back a smile. Sometimes I forgot how alike we were. “You know, you could always tell your mom ‘no.’ I’m sure she wouldn’t be too offended if you didn’t attend every showing she had.” His only response was a quirked eyebrow, at which I scoffed. He was such a momma’s boy; ‘no’ just wasn’t in his vocabulary when it came to his mother, especially in relation to her theater.

He quickly ran his fingers through his hair before shoving his hands into the pockets of his slacks. “She’s gonna be really busy tonight, especially since it’s the matinee. She probably won’t even notice I’m gone,” he reasoned. He paused, then cocked his head to the side curiously. “You know, I think the better question is: what are you doing out here? I know you hate Shakespeare.”

“I don’t hate Shakespeare!” I retaliated, immediately flushing afterward because of the smirk he wore. “I just don’t think he’s as great as everyone says. I do hate Romeo and Juliet, though... Marie asked me to come ‘cause her dad got her tickets.”

“And you lasted this long? I’m impressed.”

“I impressed myself, too,” I replied nonchalantly, too aware of the truth to be offended. “The last time I had to see this play was in the seventh grade, and I just hid in the bathroom for the entire second act.” As he snorted, I took a vacant spot beside him and leaned against the bricks.

We lapsed into a moment of comfortable silence, with neither of us really wanting to interrupt the unusual peace that had settled between us. I couldn’t even remember the last time we remained in the same room without a tense, awkward atmosphere. Then again, over year had past since the incident; maybe all we needed was time.

I looked over at him when he kicked away from the wall. “Let’s go,” he said in response to my confusion.

“What?”

“Let’s - go,” he enunciated slowly, a grin forming on his lips. “I don’t wanna be here, and you definitely don’t wanna be here. Let’s go.” Before I knew it, he had reached out, grabbed my wrist, and begun dragging me away.