Behind The Mask

Chapter 35

I squint my eyes as the morning sun wakes me up through a small crack in the curtain. I can see the dust particles moving in front of the window, like little seeds, waiting for somewhere to land.

"Finally awake I see," Chris says from the kitchen.

I try and rub the sleep out of my eyes as I sit up, taking in the smell of bacon that's filling the air.

"And this?" I ask, looking over at the kitchen counter which seems to be stacked with everything from French toast, to bagels.

"Thought I'd thank you for taking care of me," Chris answers. "And kinda like an apology for being a real pain in the ass over the past week."

"It's fine. I told you, you had reason for being an asshole," I answer, smiling as my stomach immediately utters its disapproval of me not feeding it.

"Still... I didn't even really thank you for cleaning up this dump," Chris says as he lifts the bacon out of the pan and switches off the stove.

"Well, it's still a dump, but at least now it is a bit more of a homely dump. Plus, I never knew you could cook. I thought you lived on take-aways," I say as I get up from the couch and walk over to the kitchen. I don't bother putting on a shirt, just strolling over in my boxers.

It's become a thing between Chris and I, just two bro's walking around in their boxer shorts, being comfortable, watching movies on my laptop, and eating way too much pizza. Of course that's only been going on for a few days. Before that Chris had been a mess, cursing at everything, not being able to sit. And then he healed enough to not be in pain anymore, and before I knew what was going on, Chris kinda became a friend.

"Dig in," Chris says, pouring a glass of orange juice and putting it down in front of me. "There's coffee if you'd rather want that?"

"Juice is good," I answer, helping myself to some bacon and French toast. "There's enough here to feed an army."

"What's left over, is dinner," Chris answers as he stretches against the kitchen sink, making his muscles ripple.

I take a bite of the French toast and allow it to almost melt in my mouth before I start chewing.

"It's really good," I say.

"With a drunk mom, you need to start cooking quite early in life if you don't want to starve," Chris says, putting a piece of bacon into his mouth and starting to chew.

Over the past week or so, Chris has from time to time begun to mention some things about his past. Usually just one sentence, never elaborating too much, and if I asked questions he would clamp up completely. I've learned to just listen, acting as if I barely heard what he said. And when I do that, he usually gives me another bit of information in a while. It has put me in a bit of a difficult position however. In actual fact, it has been confusing me. One moment I want to put my fist through his face, and the next I see this little kid inside who just never really had love in his life.

"It's been a while since I saw E.J. I was thinking about seeing him today somewhere," I mention. It's been hard not seeing E.J. at all, hiding from his mother and the social workers she might set onto me. "Luckily not that long then I won't be a ward of the state anymore."

"We could try and invite E.J. for a sleep-over. His mom won't mind me seeing him," Chris says, taking another bite of his toast.

"Yeah... That could work."

It's not like I don't appreciate Chris' offer. It's just that I really want to spend some alone time with him actually. I want to just be with him, sit near him. Hear him breathe.