The Pharmacy (UNEDITED)

Chapter Ten, (Ch 9 Part Two)

        Fabian awaited my response, and I sat silent. I wanted to respond with what I actually came here for, which was:

'My godparents may very well be killers, so I wanted to come here for my own safety and to release this information.'

But the words wouldn't come out of my mouth. I parted my lips to speak, to finally say what I've been wanting to this entire time, but it just wasn't working. The letters were lodged in my throat, being hopelessly pushed my inner craving for help, and yet, a wall of my better judgement gripped them inside, caging them and cramming them in my chest for only me and myself to deal with. It was like two hands wrapped their fingers around my neck, and never let go. I shut my lips once again.

"I, uh, I don't know," I shrugged, lying through my teeth once again, something that I've learned to do as easily as drinking water out of a glass.

Fabian laughed, "You're a bit of a puzzle to me."

"What do you mean?" I asked, and started to pick at a string that was poking out of my dress. I could still feel his eyes on me.

"I mean, there are things about you that are so familiar to me, yet so new, like a distant memory, and I can't wrap my head around that," he quietly said, but the words reached me as if he were speaking them through a tornado siren. Heat rushed up to my cheeks.

"Am I supposed to take that as a compliment?" I kept picking at the string more intently.

"It seems like you already did," he grinned, teasingly and bright, creasing his cheeks in that way that would also never get old. I couldn't help but grin.

Orange light overshadowed by the lines of the window frame beside us began spilling into the bedroom as the sun fell into the buildings, burning the skies in its path. Its luminescence was absorbed by my eyes, running into every dip it could, flying into the honey brown pools of my irises, saturating them with the flames of its radiance. The gaze of the light followed Fabian as he arose from his seat, and so did mine. His hands were folded behind his back as he walked, and they dropped to his sides when he kneeled beside the radio, lifted his sun starved fingers to its dials, and ever so gently rotated one of them. The melodious sound of piano notes hammering against the stale air of indoor April drowned the room, and I quickly recognized the tune that was being composed inside of my ears. Chopin's Nocturne Op.9 No.2, my father's favorite, and in turn, mine. Fabian pressed his palm against his thigh and lifted himself up, turning to me as the music continued, bathed in darkening sunlight. A moment I can never forget.

"You like this piece?" He asked, striding to the window and pushing aside its glass barriers. He held himself on the windowsill and leaned nearly half of his body outside, taking in a deep, icy breath as if it were his first in years. His grey irises traveled to mine beneath the shadow of his lashes.

"Well, do you?" He asked again, hair swaying in the midst of freezing wind. I started unconsciously shivering; even my breath started to jitter.

"Y-yes, I do. My father made me like it. He used to open it a-all the time," I answered, failing to stop the embarrassing shivering that overtook me. "It used to drive me insane."

"So did mine," his voice barely escaped his throat, "So did mine."

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