Chapter 11
I wondered for a while why my bed smelled like cigarettes and Richard, and then I actually opened my eyes and realized why it smelled such a way. It wasn't really what I would want, and I wasn't quite sure if it was the next best thing because I wanted to get the hell out of there.
As was usual, I was on my stomach, as I like to sleep that way, with my glasses off my face and nowhere to be found from what I could somewhat see. The pillow, the only pillow, was warm and smelled so wonderful, I would have much rather dug my face into the thing and breathe it in as a sweet aroma.
But I got up quickly, not wanting to spend all my morning here or, any of it in anyway. I got up and looked around as best as I could, and found my glasses on a small table, which I picked up and shoved on my face, looking around at the room I have already seen. I shoved my hands across my jeans, straightening them, and playing with my hair some, hoping I didn't look too terrible.
Then, I remembered it didn't matter, that it wasn't supposed to matter.
I ran over to his large dresser, letting it go for just a moment, and opened the top drawer. I went down a couple, looking for what I wanted and found it quickly. I slipped a shirt out of the bottom, it was black, and walked over to my bag, which was leaning against the bed as if it was put there last night, and stuffed it inside. I was going insane, I knew it.
But I grabbed my purple bag, and walked out of the room. I dragged my hand through my hair, and walked down the stairs, slowly breathing through it and noticing the smell in the house. It wasn't just him, it was eggs. I think it was that. It was that, and I let my bag down at the end of the steps.
"Good morning," I rubbed my eyes, thinking and replaying the night in my head. It was rather nice and peaceful. He didn't actually try to do anything; he would just smile and repeat what I would say to him, learning it slowly. I kind of liked it, if I liked that many thing, it would be one of those things. Richard turned around, and I noticed the house was still empty, which I wasn't that used to.
"Morning Dewey! I made you breakfast, but I didn't really know what you liked, so I made scrambled eggs," He scratched the side of his head nervously as he does, and looked down at the floor in a fear of me.
"That's nice, um, how did I get upstairs? I knew I got tired eventually but how did I get up there?" He left the kitchen, with some plates, and placed them at the table, as well as some forks and knifes. He had jeans on, rather tight dark blue jeans, and a white button up shirt. I stared rather strangely, and he looked over, raising a bushy eyebrow and smiling some at me.
"You, ah, well," He looked at the kitchen, "Excuse me, food," I sat down at the table, playing with my shaking hands in some kind of fear. I wanted to go home, to get away from him, but I never wanted to leave.
"It smells pretty good," I looked down at the edge of the table, at the wood grain. I felt like it was moving, so I was sure my mind was lost. That's all this is, it's only me going crazy. It made me sigh in almost relief, but I knew in the back of my head that this wasn't true.
"I sure hope so, I worked kinda hard on this, and I don't know if it's good," He came over and put some eggs on my plate. They didn't look wonderful but I would eat it if it was the last thing I could eat. No guy has ever, and no other ever did.
He sat next to me, starting to eat his food, as I did. I slowly ate, savoring each bite. It wasn't horrible, though I don't eat eggs a lot, ever really, and I enjoyed this. I looked at Richard, who was smiling at me, with crooked teeth. His hair was a bit messed up and not as normal, and I think I enjoyed it better this way, natural I guess so.
"Would you like some medicine maybe, if you're still sick," I placed the fork down in the food, and scratched the side of my cheek like he does sometimes. I seemed to me that he was rubbing off on me painfully.
"No, this is enough, a lot actually because you made me breakfast and that's very nice of you," I started to eat some more as well, because I was rather hungry in the end as well. Richard nodded, rubbing his nose a little bit, and eating some more.
"Well that's good, because I don't have any medicine to give you, I would have bought you some I guess," I stopped eating again and looked at him, kind of surprised he would say that to me. I don't think I should be, but I was anyway.
"Why don't you have any?" He shrugged some.
"I'm allergic to all of it, get sick and all when I want to get better," He smiled some at it, not really knowing what I would think of that. It's not a big deal; it's just something that makes him different, another thing.
"Do you get sick a lot?" I asked him somewhat quietly, staring at my food and blinking some. He shrugged, as I could tell from the corner of my eyes.
Well, don't tell my mother because she doesn't like to think about it too much, but yeah. I got sick a lot when I was younger and I tend to still," He quietly answered me, but only did that because he was making fun of the secrecy, "I have a white or grey or something streak in my hair from being sick when I was 'ittle. See?" I think I have noticed it before but I never took much too it. I looked at his head and saw it where he pointed it out.
"Yeah, I've noticed," I scratched the side of my head and realized or remembered about what was there. I almost smiled at that, I kind of actually did smile at what I remembered. Richard noticed this and looked at me.
"Why are you smiling?" He turned my head towards him, slowly taking my chin and turning my head. I lost the smile, and looked into his eyes because I didn't want to smile at him and be like that. Even if normal people do such a thing
"Well, I have white hair too, a streak I guess," He looked so excited to me, like this was good in some weird sense. I guess we had a few things in common, which was strange and not too interesting but oh well.
"You really do? Where?" He was so interested; it was rather strange to have someone like that. But I couldn't help myself, because I was kind of interested in it as well. I pointed to one side of my head and shrugged some, not sure of where it disappeared to, under all of my brown hair.
"I don't know, it's hiding," Richard sighed at that answer and looked back at his food which suddenly seemed so less interesting. I rolled my eyes somewhat, "One day we will find it, yes?" He nodded, smiling again.
"Are you done?" He asked, pointing at my plate, though it wasn't close to being clean; I nodded and let him take it away. I rubbed my eyes while he was washing the plate and fork, feeling stupid and wanting to go home. But it was too late. It takes two to make an accident.
"I think it's best if I go now," I stood up, shoving in the chair and not really making eye contact because if I did, I would want to stay forever. It doesn't matter; I wanted to stay forever anyway. I pretend it was because of my mother.
"Really? Hm, can I walk you home again?" He rushed over, smiling and wiping his hands on his jeans. I sighed and nodded, because I wouldn't want it any other way really, I wouldn't want to walk home.
"Of course you can," Richard half smiled and took my bag from the floor. I held my breath and he didn't seem to notice the shirt that was hiding in the bag, and thank everything for that. I hoped I didn't look horrible, as we walked to the door.
He shut the door behind us, and walked next to me, towards my home. He walked closer to me than normal, which I don't really know why. Maybe he did because he knew what every thought, which would be a very strange thing to happen to me. I don't believe that was true because if he could, he would probably run far, far away.
I would run, if I could run.
Sometimes, his hand would brush against mine and I had to resist the urge to take his large hand. I knew it would be a horrible idea for the pain it would put me through and for the fact that I would possibly scare him far away. I just needed to get home and take a bath and calm myself down before I did something crazy. I was most likely past that point by then. It was too late, but I still didn't want to take his hand.
The back of his hand is rather hairy against my very bare, small hand and it was strange. I kind of liked it. That was the second thing I learned about him that day, and about myself. I sighed and slowly moved away.
When Richard had to go, saying he has to do something with his parents on that day and would see me soon. I didn't want him to go, having me want him to walk me home for too many reasons but I said no word like that. I gave him a goodbye with all my thoughts and all.
He pulled out a cigarette, which I knew he enjoyed because he had a smell that resembled them. He asked if I wanted one, which I replied with no, letting him go, and leaving me off to get home. I didn't want to go home; I truly didn't want to go anywhere. But I felt like I could face the world maybe, with harry hands.
Anyone who ever gave you confidence, you owe them a lot.
But he left and I would see him soon, yet not soon enough. It was everything with him or nothing, and I suddenly couldn't live with nothing. I had to for the moment.
"Oh my dear Dewey!" I dragged a hand through my hair and adjusted my bag slightly. I didn't want this but I had a feeling it would come eventually, "How are you my love?" I glared over at him, as he ran up and smiled at me. Oh John...
"Hello, what do you want?" He slowly stroked his chin, which was hairless, and looked forward, wondering in his steps, until he remembered.
"Oh yes! Who is that kind gentlemen you were with hm?" He looked in a direction, pretending to be looking for Richard, who was far and gone, "I can't seem to remember who he is, and I don't think I've met him." I sighed. I knew I wasn't far from home but I felt very far.
"It's just a friend," I didn't like that answer but I went with it, "He's a nice boy," John nodded, as if he was really interested in Richard at all.
"Is he? He's a bit small hm?" I never thought of that because it didn't matter to me. I think we are the height, or I am possibly one inch shorter than him, but it truly doesn't matter because I can see into his eyes and that is what I really want.
"Aren't you a bit small? Only two inches right?" His face flushed and he glared at me with the dark brown eyes daring me to take it back before he hurt me in some stupid way. I didn't fear him in anyway, most ways.
"Funny I could give you some reference of course that would say different," A bit of a smirk, he continued, "so he's your boyfriend oi?" I shook my head quickly, looking down at my boots as they moved me forward.
"No, just my friend, but he saves me from your ass," John scoffed and walked in front of me, backwards to look at my face.
"I could kill him and all but I would rather not. Wouldn't be fun now would it? My darling," No, it wouldn't.
But it wouldn't surprise me in anyway.