Bridge Boy

Chapter 3. - Mr I-Don't-Believe

"No, I don't believe in 'The One' or magic, or any kind of fairytale ending. What's wrong with that?" Ezra folded his arms defensively, and scowled at me from under his curls.

My eyes widened at his statement, a sudden understanding of his almost-suicide blazing through my mind like a lightning strike. When someone starts questioning everything, they sometimes stop believing altogether.

Ezra had stopped believing.

"Alright, Mr I-Don't-Believe, I am going to make you see the magic in this world, even if it takes me hundreds of years, I will make you believe again." I walked up to him, and pressed my nose against his, looking him straight in the eye.

"You can try, Noa, but I'll just end up proving you wrong." His eyes burned with the heat of a challenge, a wicked gleam scattering light through the pools of blue.

Taking a step back, I picked up my coco, grabbed his sleeve, and started tramping up the stairs with a very muddled Ezra behind me.

•••

Throwing open my bedroom door, I had to stop myself from launching my body onto my bed, and making snow-angels on my quilt.

"This is my room, do not make any mean comments about it's decoration or I will lick your eyeball." I gestured for him to go inside, and I shut the door behind me once we were both in the room.

Smiling, I watched Ezra's face light up in awe at the weirdness that was my bedroom.

My walls had a series of trees sprawling across them; the high ceiling allowing for the huge trees to burst across the four walls. On each branch, I'd pinned at least one photograph, so it looked like I had a picture farm in my room.

The ceiling was painted a deep blue, and I'd spray-painted golden stars onto it. A number of glow-in-the-dark stars were also stuck up there, each with a Sharpie smiley face drawn on.

"You owning this room makes so much sense. It's the craziest thing I've ever seen, but it doesn't seem crazy when you're it's owner." Ezra was still staring up at my ceiling, his head tilted slightly to the side.

"Before you ask about the faces on the stars, I did it when I was 13, do not question them. And we're not staying in here." I gestured dramatically to the ladder on the wall, which ran up the trunk of one of the trees.

Our attic ran almost the whole length of the house, so when we first moved here, Dad had part of it sectioned off so I could use it as a den. Over the years, it'd been used for many things: prank planning, sleepovers, hiding secrets, making out, and getting high.

"Oh god, you have a secret attic hideaway, I am so jealous I may have to steal your house." I chuckled at Ezra's comment, and scaled the ladder quickly, and climbed into the den.

"It's called the den, and you can't steal my house. You can visit, but you can't steal it." I waggled my eyebrows, and stuck my tongue out at him as he climbed up.

If it was even possible, Ezra's eyes widened even more as he finally scrambled into the den in the most ungraceful manor possible. The second his eyes hit the empty beanbag beside me, I swear to God he grew wings and flew over to it. I loud oomf echoed through the small space, and I snorted in a ver unlady-like fashion.

"Okay, this place is supremely cool. Can I just live here? Then I don't have to see my stupid family anymore, and I can just hand out with you." He looked sad again, and he pulled his knees to his chest and closed his eyes momentarily.

"As much as I like your company, I met you less then an hour ago, and know next to nothing about you." I leaned back in the beanbag, and pulled the sleeves of my jumper over my hands.

Looking up at me, the realisation of just how strange our situation was dawned on Ezra, and I watched as a small smile formed on his face. He looked like the fat cat that got the cream, and I was seriously tempted to draw whiskers across his cheeks.

"Let's play twenty questions." He whispered, that sad look still hiding in his fathomless eyes.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

A/N - One of Noa's photos of paris at the side