July 11th
He threw up. Thankfully, not on me. But he threw up and now he's crying. Tonight hasn't been too different from the last 5 years of my life but it doesn't make this any less weird.
"Are you ok?" I spoke softly, my hand leaving his back as he slowly sat up straight. His posture was better than most but you could tell he was exhausted from the slight slouch he couldn't help but have.
He sniffled and wiped his mouth with his sleeve before being grossed out about his vomit and removing the shirt entirely. "Yes...thank you." He cleared his throat and adjusted his white t-shirt that was slightly covered in dirt, what looked like different colored streaks of what could be paint, and a random wet spot.
"I know this is awkward...and you don't know me but, do you have money for a cab? I'm really tired and I have to go-"
"No no," he interrupted. "Uh—yea, I'll figure it out." His voice was soft—as he was still drunk— but sweet and almost scared sounding. He reminded me of my cousins when we were younger and when my mother was still talking to my dads side of the family.
I stood up from the bench and faced him, my face slowly covering with guilt of leaving him behind without knowing his actual plan. "Are you sure?"
He glanced up at me, a glimpse of sadness and previous tears striking my heart right in its soft spot. He let out a small laugh as he fiddled with and ran his hands over the blue shirt in his lap.
"Yes. Thank you for everything, have a good night."
I gave him a small smile that he didn't see and that was more for me than him before slowly walking off in the direction I needed to go. The neon lights that reflected off the puddle in front of the alleyway he exited out of read Bear Scout Bar. I stopped in my tracks as flashes of my mother stumbled across my memory and forced me down into a hard spot.
If you leave him, you'll never sleep again. The guilt will eat you alive, C. What if something bad happens? Help him.
"I'm..." I turned around on my heels, my hands firmly pressed against my sides as I struggled to get my voice out. "I'm going the same direction that you are, do you want to just walk with me?" My nails picked at the stitching along my jeans as I watched his body stiffen at the sound of my offer.
We waited for a long moment before his head dropped lower than before and he slowly scooped the blue shirt into his arms. "Yes, please. If you don't mind, I mean."
The sound of his soft and timid voice still soaked in liquor almost made me smile. "I don't mind but we do have to leave now. It's late and the road ahead is really dark."
He wasted no time in standing up and almost tipping over, his lean but apparently sturdy body swayed as if he had no recollection of balance at all. "Hey! Hey!" Within seconds I was back at his side and holding him up. For some reason, probably the adrenaline, my heart was beating out of my chest. "That could've been...a long fall down." I reluctantly spoke my bad tall joke.
He chuckled softly as he rebalanced himself and stood up on his own. "Thank you." He flipped his mid-length hair from his face and revealed what I didn't expect to be beautifully big brown eyes.
I stared up at his moonlit skin that looked almost of rose tinted glass. Everything about him was ethereal from his innocent almond shaped eyes to his soft-square shaped jawline. The soft smile that rested on his perfectly pink lips made my heart do something it had never done before.
Though I'd been sitting with him for at least an hour now, I hadn't gotten a good look at his face until now or at least I'd been too worried about his state to notice. He was probably one of the most attractive people I've met.
"Are you...are you ok?" I spoke reluctantly. My eyes darting between his as my lips slowly curled in. For some reason, I was now nervous and I couldn't look away from him.
He stared down at me with the same look I was giving him, as if he'd only just now seen me for the first time. The twinkle of unknown emotions danced in his dark eyes as if it was a reflection of my own feelings.
"Yes. I'm ok." He spoke softly, so soft it was almost inaudible but it flowed through my ears perfectly.
A few minutes ago he was just a drunk guy who I was helping out of the fear of having a guilty conscience. But now, he was a stranger who I wanted to do more than just help. I never knew I was this shallow. Just finding out he was attractive was enough for my heart to beat in my ears.
It's not like I'd never seen attractive people before but...maybe he's just my type?
What is your type Cel? You don't see people that way. You don't have a type, so stop staring.
I cleared my throat and took a cautious step backward. His eyes looked as if he was snapping out of a trance of his own and his body relaxed as he stuffed his hands in his pockets, holding the folded up shirt under his arm.
"Are you ready to go?"
He nodded in response and I decided to take the lead down the rest of The Avenue.
The silence was loud but his quiet footsteps trailing behind me somehow felt louder. My heart was beating unusually—not fast but not slow either— just...strangely. Maybe it's because I'd never walked home with anybody but my drunk mother before...
"I've never seen you in my neighborhood before?"
My steps stalled a bit as I thought about how to answer his question. I'd never been nervous or embarrassed about where I'd lived but now, for an unexplained reason, I was.
"I live...farther down," I glanced back at him, the moonlight still favoring him and his features. "That's probably why."
He stared at me blankly as if there were wheels turning inside of his head deciding whether my lie was to be believed. I turned back around and continued to drown out the sound of my heart and my offbeat footsteps. "What about your shirt? What're the streaks from?"
I can imagine from his silence and now offbeat steps that he was looking at his shirt, trying to put together what I was talking about or maybe how I noticed them in the dark. "They're...from paint. I paint."
I paused walking, waiting for him to catch up until he was beside me and his head was tilted down at me in innocent confusion. "What do you paint?"
"Mostly the moon," his head tilted toward the sky, the blue light dancing in his brown eyes and for a moment, you can see the love he has for the large figure in the sky. "And anything around it or under it. I like whatever the moon touches..." he tilted his head back down at me. I watched as his eyes glided across my features, the same shimmer he adored the moon with in his eyes.
I hummed in response, not sure what to say under his gaze.
Anything the moon touches huh.
"Do you paint yourself?"
He looked taken back by my question. "Uh...no. Not really. I've never tried."
"Why not? The moon seems to be all over you." My tone almost sarcastic.
The corners of his lips curled slightly as he stared down at me, strands of his deep black hair falling over his face. "You're right. Maybe I'll try one day." His voice faded as he continued to stare down at me with a soft smile brushed across his pink lips.
I tucked my lips in tightly, the urge to offer him the same sweet smile rushing through my body like a fast-acting plague. The feeling felt foreign as if it truly was a sickness with no cure. I'm sure I've smiled many times before but none have felt like this.
The rest of the walk was silent other than our synchronic footsteps and his occasional slow exhales. My mind slowly danced through the images of his eyes and for some unfamiliar reason, I felt comforted by his past gaze. Despite it making my heart race and my body tense up so much that I could hardly move, the memory of it was soothing. As if I was replaying it in my head hoping to relive the moment.
In what world would you be looked at like that? This isn't a movie, Cel. Don't be greedy.
Greedy. How can I be greedy for something when I didn't ask for it in the first place?
After the long walk down the dark street leading to his neighborhood where we passed homes that looked as if they could belong to someone among the kardashians or hall of fame level football players, we reached his home that looked no lesser in status, just cozier.
"This is where you live?" I stared up at the large brick home that was at least 10 times the size of my trailer just off the first floor alone. Even when I was younger, before my dad died and after we moved, my house wasn't this big. Our house was sturdy and something off those family movies you see on the hallmark channel. It was picturesque and just enough.
He hummed as I cautiously followed him up the front steps and onto the wooden porch that was decorated as if Christmas was around the corner. Fairy lights hung from the planted bushes and tall green plants, little stone sculptures of cats and white elephants set around each pot or windowsill. There was a white mat set in front of the door with the words wipe your feet written in decorative font.
I stood by as he unlocked his door, my attention still on the elaborate and whimsical decorations. "Thank you," he spoke up, breaking me out of my trance of amazement. "I'm sorry I couldn't walk you home." He offered me a sweet and tight smile, like the one before but instead of adoration glimmering in his eyes, it was guilt.
"Don't be sorry. I offered to walk you home. And you're the one who's drunk...so, don't worry about it. Have a good night, Kai."
I nodded in his direction as I stepped off the porch and back into the darkness. The cold air now hitting me harder than before and an unfamiliar loneliness setting in.
"Hey! Wait!"
I paused, something similar to hope and fear brewed inside of me as I waited for this words to fall from those perfectly pink lips. "...Whats your name?" He spoke timidly, you could almost hear his liquor soaked lips trembling and it almost made me want to smile.
I contemplated answering his question truthfully. Giving him my name and the access to see me again; a hope that should never be hoped for. "...You don't need to know...Goodnight, Kai."
I almost smiled again.