DISCLAIMER: This post is part of an original work of fiction. It's mine, so no stealing.
~~~
A flash of light and a tinny, artificial shutter sound wakes me from an unusual dreamless sleep.
"Rise and shine, ladies!" says a chipper voice that can only be Jonathon, a few feet away.
"Go away," I grumble, refusing to open my eyes or even move so that I can talk like an actual human- because I'm comfortable.
As it has happened both times before when Emily and I have shared a bed, we've once again made a really lovely tangle of blonde hair and red hair and limbs and blanket- and I'm not ready to undo the knot.
"Not gonna happen," he says, nudging me.
"God, Jonathon," mumbles Emily somewhere near the top of my head, "why the fuck not?"
"Oh, good morning, Gorgeous," I say, tilting my head to look up at Emily, whose eyes are still closed. She's smiling, though, and she looks like an old fashioned angel with a halo made of curly orange hair. "I didn't know you were awake yet."
"How could I sleep through my two favorite idiots talking?" she asks, opening her eyes a slit. "Hey babe."
I give her a peck on the lips, feeling her smile in it. "How'd you sleep?"
"Perfect. You?"
"Same."
"As much as I'd love to stay and set up my camera and watch you two make out, I can't," says Jonathon. "School starts in an hour and a half. Get your asses up and eat something."
"Fine," replies Emily as he walks out, leaving us alone. She stretches her endless legs, untangling them from mine. "Baby?" she says, soft into my ear.
"Mm?" I've closed my eyes again, so unwilling to make an official start to the day.
"You're lying on my arm. Can I have it back?"
"No."
That would require moving.
After a heartbeat, I feel her lips on mine. She begins very slow, but as I adjust to consciousness I involve myself more, placing my hands on either side of her face and lifting my shoulders of the mattress- freeing Emily's arm without noticing.
"Ha," she whispers, breaking the kiss and grinning like she solved a riddle from La Vie Est Belle. "Sucker."
"That's not fair!" I groan, falling back onto the bed.
"All's fair in love and war, Aug," she says, sliding out of the bed. As she lands on the ground and begins walking toward the door, adjusting her clothes, she mumbles, "I hope he has bagels."
~~~
For me, what little breakfast I consume always happens after I've gotten dressed and done my hair. I'm still trying to rub sand, cobwebs, and sleep out of my eyes as I step out into the hall, fully dressed and with my hair hanging free and loose around my shoulders.
From just across the hall, the small downstairs bathroom, the sounds of a running shower and two male voices greet my ears. At first, it confuses me- why would they both-? But, Oh, I remember, shrugging. Jonathon must be helping Kyle with his shower.
When I wander into the big kitchen, Emily acknowledges me with a sigh as she stares into the wide-open fridge.
"Riddle me this, Aug-" she begins, motioning to the small smorgasbord resting on the gleaming marble counter- "why would a family have cream cheese, but no bagels to eat it on?"
Spread on the counter space between where she stands and the deep double sink is an arrangement of white bread, seven grain bread, and cinnamon raisin bread; judging by the empty bread box behind it all, these must be the only bread products in the entire place.
"Maybe they're raisin bread and cream cheese people?" I suggest, nonplussed.
"That is just... wrong. There's no other word for it: it's just wrong."
She sighs dramatically and closes the fridge, finally turning to face me. For a heartbeat, she looks taken aback, but her expression soon shifts into a soft smile.
"I like your hair like that," she says.
"Thank you?" I reply, bending the pitch of the last syllable up into a question. It's my turn to be puzzled and pleasantly surprised, because I don't know what I did to deserve this unexpected praise.
"You're welcome?" she replies, copying my tone. "What did you do to it?"
"I brushed it."
"Well it looks good."
When she turns to fill the coffee pot with water, her back to me, I glance at my reflection in the microwave window. Instead of hanging down as straight as it usually does, my hair has almost a wave to it, framing my face. On any other day, I would consider it a nuisance and tie my hair up out of the way. Today though, I think I'll keep it the way it is- because Emily likes it.
"Thanks."
As she scoops some grinds into the filter in the back of the coffee machine, she changes the subject.
"I'm kind of surprised you never said anything about how they don't have a teapot here."
It's true: last night, in order to make my nightly tea, I'd had to heat my water in the smallest sauce pan, which now sits empty and cold on the inactive stovetop.
"I don't know how I could expect them to have a kettle, I respond, putting two slices of cinnamon raisin bread into the upright toaster and pulling down the lever. "It's just Kyle and his dad- really, just Kyle, most of the time. Two guys live here, and they don't strike me as tea drinkers."
That assumption manifests itself more than enough in the inviting and yet still somehow cold amenities all around us- the leather couches, the dark floors and walls. A decorator had tried to make this house a home, but had failed due to the lack of life lived here.
Now that I know about how much time Jonathon spends here, I can see little signs of it here and there- a pair of blue jeans too long for Kyle draped on the back of a chair in the guest room, a senior English textbook on the dining room table. I'm sure that if I'd paid attention, I would have noticed an extra toothbrush in the bathroom.
I'm not sure if it makes me sad or not that Kyle's main caretaker is not his frazzled and never-present father, but the friend whose vehicle played a starring role in his injury; a friend who has a family of his own, but still chooses to assist Kyle as practically live-in help. It irritates me that a man whose son can barely dress himself alone would continue to travel with work instead of staying home to help. I'm sure that if Mr. Johnson were here, I would have trouble resisting giving him the piece of my mind that, like Jonathon, resides semi-permanently with Kyle and his full leg cast.
My toast popping out of the toaster, a little on the dark side, reminds me that it's really none of my business how Kyle's father reacted- none of this is really my business. I'm just a guest, just a friend.
When Kyle comes in as I'm finishing off my toast and Emily is sitting next to me, holding her second cup of coffee like it's made of gold- no less precious than the first- his hair is still wet from the shower and he has the look of someone who begged the night for five more minutes when he broke up this morning.
"Who made coffee?" he asks without further introduction.
"That one," I say, motioning to Emily, who is in the middle of a sizeable gulp.
"That one's my favorite right now," he grunts, balancing in between his crutches as he pours himself a cup. He then opens one of the upper cabinets and takes out a pill bottle. He dumps several into his palm and slams them back with a swallow of his coffee.
"Painkillers?" I ask, unsure of what else he could be swallowing.
"No shit," he says as he crutches heavily to the chair next to Emily's. With painstaking care, he settles in it and sighs, staring intently into the depths of his mug as if it can answer all of his burning questions.
"You look like you got hit by a bus, man," says Emily with a chuckle.
"Yeah, well," he begins, shifting his weight oh-so-delicately in his seat. "I do have enough screws holding my leg together to set off metal detectors for the rest of my life kinda makes sleep hard to find."
"Really?" I ask- but after receiving a look from Kyle that can only mean 'it is too early for this shit', I continue, clarifying as I go. "I mean, it makes sense and all, but you looked dead to the world last night."
"Last night wasn't the problem," he says. "But around three o'clock this morning, I woke up and couldn't get back to sleep."
"That sucks shit, Kyle, I'm sorry," I say.
"It's cool, I guess."
"You want breakfast with your medicine?" asks Emily while Kyle fails to stifle a yawn.
"That might be a good idea, yeah."
"August, go make him something."
"Why can't you do it, lazy ass? You're the one who offered."
"I don't make breakfast for people who don't have bagels. Smart ass."
"Fine," I huff, getting to my feet. "What do you want to eat?" I nudge his head as I pass him, heading to the kitchen.
"Eggs and toast?"
"Scrambled?"
"Over hard."
"Okay."
Ten minutes, two slices of white bread, and three eggs later, Jonathon joins us. With an obvious spring in his step, it's quite clear that even on a couch too short or him, he got far more sleep than his friend.
"Did you sleep well or something?" asks Emily as he commandeers my recently abandoned frying pan.
"Not bad, no," he replies, getting the egg carton out of the fridge.
"Better than me," says Kyle, whose mood has vastly improved since eating breakfast.
"Don't hate me because I can sleep through anything," Jonathon replies without turning to address his best friend.
"Yeah," I agree. "If you're going to hate him for anything, don't choose that. He's got plenty of other attributes that would be perfect for it."
"God, you are so nice to me," Jonathon says, elbowing me and sitting down while the other two laugh, cheered up by the coffee and my slight at him.
"That was the general idea, yeah," I say.
"Well thanks, I guess," he mumbles through a mouthful of scrambled eggs.
"No need," I say, holding up a hand. "It's what I do."
Our banter continues on after Jonathon has finished his breakfast. Kyle still looks tired, but much better now that he's eaten something, and there's been a little time for his pills to sink in. Emily is having trouble controlling her smile, which is as contagious as always.
For a fleeting moment, I feel at home. I belong here, with these people who know what I am, and love me- not in spite of it, or because of it- but because that's what makes me who I am, and they like who I am. Nobody here is afraid to look me in the eye, and nobody is waiting for things to fall apart. I'm not wearing my day-to-day mask; the face they are seeing is my real face, and it feels beautiful and appreciated and right.
I'm just a guest, but I feel like this is home.
A glance at the clock breaks my spell.
"I should go and get my school stuff," says Jonathon, getting to his feet.
"Me too," I agree, thinking of Emily and my belongings strewn around the guest room.
As we leave the kitchen, he headed to the dining room, and me past that to the guest room, I catch him in the midst of a deep yawn.
"I thought you slept good last night," I say, casually leaning next to him on the table.
"Not really," he whispers miserably. "I don't go to sleep when I'm here unless I know he's asleep, so when he woke up, I stayed awake- just in case."
In the expression on Jonathon's face, I find the answer to whether or not the absence of Kyle's father bothers me- it doesn't. I can't think of anyone who cares about Kyle enough to stay up all night just to make sure he's okay. I can't even think of many people I would do the same for- maybe Emily. Probably Emily. Definitely Emily.
"But don't tell him," he continues. "He doesn't know I stay up, because I know he'd worry and try to make me sleep, and he has bigger things to worry about than me."
"I won't."
~~~
As soon as we're in the parking lot, barely ten minutes to go before the first class begins, we are met by a bunch of the guys from the team, Chris and Michael in the lead. As Emily and I begin to walk to the building, they stop her, asking to talk.
"Wanna go in?" Aiden asks in my ear.
"What, you're not in with the whole council-with-Emily thing?" I counter, though I don't resist walking with him.
"Yeah, that one's not my business," he says.
I look behind us, where Michael and Emily are still standing at the back of Jonathon's truck, talking. She's smiling and nodding, but he looks urgent with his gestures. I shake my head to myself, deciding that this isn't my business either.
"I think Emily's good for you," he says as we fall into step side by side, heading into the school.
"No, really?" I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "What makes you say my girlfriend's good for me?"
"Hey, I'm being serious."
"I am too!" I reply. "Like I was just thinking about you and Izzie. Between her keeping her mouth shut and you not saying a thing, you must make great dinner date conversation."
He gives me a sideways look that I can't quite read, but it's clear that he didn't get my reference to the Outsiders.
"Fine, fine," I allow as I glance over my shoulder back to where Emily is talking still to Michael, her smile now smaller, but her expressions no less lively. "Why is she good for me?"
"Well, ever since she's been around, you're sort of cared more-"
"About what?" I interrupt.
"Everything, I guess," he shrugs. "Before she was here, I used to look at you, and you were just quiet and didn't really give a fuck about anything."
"Aiden."
"Yeah?"
"Were you stalking me when I was single?"
I'm staring at him, but he won't look at me and his ears are turning pink.
"No."
"No?"
"No, August," he says with a final tone. "I just wondered a lot if we could have been friends if you weren't so unbothered."
I don't state the obvious-
Well, we're friends now-
Because when he smiles just barely at me as he glances over his shoulder, I see that he's thinking it too.
"Hey, so did-" he begins, but his sentence is cut off by the first bell of the day, shrilly letting us know that we have just three minutes to get to class.
"Yeah?" I ask, beginning to walk with him.
"I'll ask later."
"Aw, come on-"
"August, unless you have Calculus with me next, you're going to be late," he says gently, refusing me my answer.
He's right. I have my Audio Video Productions class next, which is on the third floor of the school, where Calculus is in the math hall on the first floor. If I don't start climbing stairs soon, I will be late.
"Fine," I let up. "But you will ask me later."
"Sure thing."
~~~
AN: (Pssst- see that "vote" button up there to the right? Yeah. I'd tap that.)
(I'm sorry. That was an awful joke. But what could you expect from someone who would honestly say the jokes that show up in the story?)
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