To Perceive an Image

Sixteen: Images of An Unexpected Scheme

Maryanland, September 15, 2040, 11:16 PM

After doe-eyeing myself out of the talk that has the potential of inducing a heart attack, I convinced Lyaly to have said talk after we devour two plates of her mother's famous four-cheese pasta and Jajik. My stomach thanked her for her compliance. One thing about Lyaly, she will have me and Sapphire's asses if we don't eat. I've programmed myself into always meeting her with a full stomach, or my loud rumbles will have her buying a restaurant's menu for me. I appreciate her for that. My eating schedule, or the lack thereof, has never taken a steady route. It's not that I don't like to eat, I forget to do so because I choose to put it second. But I never have to worry about that with Lyly as a friend. Gosh, I really L-word these two people.

Mesmerizing moonlight dances around us as the windows on every wall of her room welcome it in. After physical coercion on Lyaly's part, she forced me to lie on her comfortable bed to rest. Impressed by how she can detect my body aches before I can. Either way, I'm enjoying the fluffy pillow under my head and even fluffier comforters that I'm hugging as if my life depends on it. Although, my rest feels short-lived because the glare she's giving me doesn't give a rest till your heart's content vibe.

"What's the problem Lyly, you haven't stopped looking at me like that since we've got here," I ask.

Leaning on her desk with her chin resting on her palm, she sighs before speaking.

''The other day, I sat down to think about what's going on with Flynn and stuff. I, I'm scared for you, Azail," she confesses, fiddling with her fingers as she avoids eye contact.

Standing up from the comfortable bed brought chagrin to my heart, but desperate times call for desperate measures. Moving to sit at the edge of her bed, facing her, I speak. "Scared of what? Give me an example."

Genuine curiosity makes me want to get an answer. I want to know what obstacles she thinks I will face and avoid them. I'm going into this blind, so going into it with extra protective gear doesn't sound all that bad.

"Harmful people, the weight on your shoulders, your hard work taken for granted, us not being there to help you, and what's scaring me the most," she makes momentary eye contact with me before covering her eyes with her hands.

Death, the word she cannot fathom saying, is death. What's scaring her the most is me leading myself into my demise.

It might be the fake optimism in me, but even my overthinker self did not think that far ahead. I do care about my physical safety, sure, but I doubt that death will be a guest knocking at my door during this journey. As for everything else, I can't deny that I haven't thought of them. The question one should ask now is, am I prepared for those? No, fuck no, but I'll try my best like I always do.

Let's put that aside for now. I have a crying friend to comfort. If I were an affectionate person, my first instinct would be to hug her. But because my brain chemistry rolls with a different crowd, my thoughts settle on moving to grab her hands. What I would do once I grabbed them is unknown to me, but I'll figure it out. As if she knew the thoughts in my head without me having to say them, she held my hands in both of hers. Thank God she did, because my body would not allow me to make that look sincere if I tried.

"Well, I am going for an idea that includes destroying an over a decade-long hidden project, so people will for sure be after my ass." My words came out funnier than I had prepared for, which lead to a loud laugh from me permeating her room. My laugh came to a quick halt when I noticed the unimpressed expression on my friend's face.

"Not laugh, didn't funny huh Lyly?" Sorry, the jokes cannot stop.

"Alright, alright, I'm sorry. But realistically speaking, my words are true, don't you think?" She thinks about my words for a second before the tears lining her waterline fall.