"Where are those bloody keys!?" I groaned in frustration, searching my pockets for them.
"Finally." I mumbled, and opened the door to my house.
I slid my trainers off and placed them on the entry mat, and placed the keys on the key holder on the wall. I stretched, yawning tiredly.
God, I'm knackered.
Looking up, I screamed loudly at the sight of the familiar curly-haired lad sitting on my sofa. I placed my hand over my chest, my heart beating fast.
"Harry! What the hell!?"
"Sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you. You alright?" He apologised.
"Yeah, I'm fine." I muttered, and sat down with him on the sofa. I turned on the Telly and saw that Full House was on. Coincidentally enough, they made an American version of the show that aired last year.
"Pipkins is still on, right? I completely forgot about that show." He asked me.
"Nope." I sighed and rested my elbow on the sofa arm, my palm pressed against my cheek.
"Nice, because those puppets were bloody terrifying." He admitted, crossing his arms over his chest.
We watched the show for a few more minutes, laughing at the jokes being told.
Suddenly, there was a knock at the door, interrupting my Telly watching. I got up and answered it, seeing Grayson.
"Hello, mate. May I come in?" I nodded and stepped aside to let him inside the house.
"So, what are you doing here?" I asked him, sitting back down.
"I was wondering if you could babysit Alfie tomorrow. I have a dentist appointment and can't have him waiting alone in there. Usually my brother has him during the week, but he has some errands to run." He requested.
"Of course! What time will you be going?" I questioned, wrapping my arm around Harry's shoulder.
He furrowed his brows for a second, looking at Harry, thinking, before saying, "Actually, do you and Harry want to babysit? You could both watch him together, just for greater attention."
"But papa—" He immediately covered the little boy's mouth with his hand, stopping him from saying what he was about to say.
I looked over at Harry who already had his eyes on me. He nodded, agreeing.
"I guess that's a yes." I responded, making him smile in satisfaction.
Later that night, I tried studying again, but was too exhausted. I wanted to take something to boost my energy, but they would keep me up much longer, which isn't a healthy thing.
Then again, nothing I've done has ever been healthy.
I groaned in frustration, resting my head in the palm of my hands.
Why is uni so hard?
I lifted my head up and sighed deeply.
"Fuck it." I got up and went to get the pills, but not before something caught my eye.
I peeked out the window, seeing a person standing outside.
"What the—?"
The person was wearing what looked like a hooded jacket, but I couldn't see his face. His figure was male-like, but not one I recognise other than myself.
I opened the window, squinting in pain, as the window sometimes struggled to pull up.
Once successfully opened, I pushed my head through to confront him, only to see that he wasn't there anymore.
I peered my eyes around to see if I could catch him walking away, but there was no one. I shook my head in annoyance and closed the window, then hopped back onto the bed.
"Wankers these days." I muttered under my breath and resumed studying.
___
Me and Jackson were at my house lazily sitting on the sofa and eating crisps. I would've turned on the Telly, but there wasn't anything good on at the moment.
"You're bloody shitting me right now, what the hell?" Jackson complained under his breath as he read the newspaper in his hands.
"What's the matter, lad?" I asked him,
munching on my Walkers Crisps, my head laying on his lap.
"Beetlejuice was just released in the US yesterday. It doesn't come out in the UK until August, that's just bonkers! I've been waiting ages for it. Just not fair." He huffed, and turned the page to the next article.
"You know you have a habit of repeating words in the same sentence when you complain, right?" I retorted, and he rolled his eyes, ignoring my subtle banter.
"Ha! Looks like Australia's liar of a Prime Minister just died." He said, and showed me the article.
"Billy McMahon died? How?" I curiously questioned, almost choking on a piece of crisp.
"Died in his sleep." He answered, and turned the page again.
"Oh, wow. He was the longest running too. 21 years." I responded in shock.
"Yeah, well he was a liar and a cunt. He wasn't that brilliant of a Prime Minister. I wonder who will be Prime Minister now." Jackson replied, flipping through the paper.
"First off, that's a bit insensitive to the dead, no matter how bad they were. Secondly, I'm not particularly interested in politics, so I don't know. It's not really my cup of tea." I tell him, finishing up my bag and setting it aside.
It's not that I don't like politics. Some news do interest me, but it's just that I can't be bothered to care about what's going on in the world. If it was war or something more serious, then sure, I would be all ears; but if it was something that didn't really concern me, then I don't have to care about it.
"Can you pass the wipes, please?" I asked him, and he leaned over, opens up the box and grabs a piece of wipe, and hands it to me.
"Thanks, lad." I said, and wiped my hands with
it.
I got comfortable with my head on his lap and closed my eyes, the sound of him flipping through the pages keeping me awake.
The ringing of the doorbell forced me to get up from my comfortable position. I groaned
tiredly and walked towards the door, opening it to see Grayson and Alfie standing outside.
"Hello, mate! I tried calling you but you didn't pick up." He tells me, stepping inside with Alfie.
"I was hanging out with Jack. What brings you lads, here?" I asked, grabbing a bag of Opal Fruits from the larder, and laying my head back down on his lap once we got back into the sitting room.
He raised a brow and shook his head. "You forgot, didn't you?"
I looked at him in confusion, until the realisation hit me. "Oh no, I completely forgot I was supposed to babysit him today, I'm so sorry." I apologised, feeling bad.
"Lou, you know that every weekend you watch him for me whilst I'm at work." He frustrates, looking disappointed.
"I'm really sorry, alright? I won't forget again." I promised, and he shook his head in
disapproval.
"You do this every time. Every time! And say you won't forget. How many times are you gonna say that and forget again?!" He yelled at me, his nostrils flaring.
"I said I'm sorry, alright!?" I yelled back, getting frustrated.
Suddenly, a sharp pain hit me. "Ugh!" I
groaned, sitting up and squinting my eyes as
my head suddenly began to hurt.
"What's wrong, Lou?" Jackson questioned in concern, putting his newspaper down and bringing his attention to me.
"Are you alright, lad?" Grayson asked worriedly, squatting down to my level.
"My head hurts." I answered, but in a mumbled tone.
"I'm gonna get the ibuprofen. Gray, stay with him and make sure he doesn't—you know." Jackson ordered, and Grayson nodded, before standing up from the sofa and heading towards the loo.
"What did you do?" He asked me, with a knowing look on his face.
"Nothing." I continued to squint my eyes shut as the pain worsened.
He sighed and looked up at the ceiling for a second, then back at me. "Alright."
Headaches were common for me, as I would get them from being sick, but this was different. It struck me out of nowhere, like lighting. Like a knife was stabbed into my head.
Jackson returned a few seconds later with the ibuprofen.
"Take two, it helps better." He advised, and I nodded, thanking him.
I opened the bottle and poured two of the pills into my hand, then popped them into my mouth.
I grabbed the bottle of water that was across from me on the coffee table and drank the pills down.
"Come on, you need to sleep this off." Grayson said, before lifting me up bridal style.
"I would complain and say this is very marriage-like, but you're helping me, so it's fine." He chuckled when I said that, knowing it was true.
___
Alfie laughs at the Telly screen showing a funny sketch.
"How do you spell–?" The man on the screen asked, dropping what looked like a rubber on his desk.
"This is my favourite part of the episode.
Watch, just watch, you'll love it." I laughed
along with him.
"Alright then.....N-i-p-p-l-hyphen-e." I burst out laughing, slapping my knee.
"Isn't that hilarious? Such a sick classic." I continued to laugh, my stomach hurting.
"What's a nipple, uncle Lou?" He inquired, looking up at me with curious eyes.
Surprised by his question, I answered and said, "Well, it's part of your body, buttercup. We all have them."
"Where are they, though?" He questioned
further.
"You know those two tiny little dots right here on your chest?" I demonstrated, pointing to where mine were. He nodded, and I continued.
"Those are your nipples." He lifted his shirt up to look at them and then giggled. "They look like tiny little peanuts."
"Yeah, they do." I giggled along.
Later that day, Grayson picked up Alfie and went home. I thought I would clean the house up to spare some time. I haven't cleaned the house in months, having been procrastinating doing so.
When done, I sighed and closed my eyes for a moment, before opening them again and taking a deep breath. I stepped on one of the stairs, but stopped in my tracks suddenly.
"Lou, st— stop! Stop, it tickles!." Aitch laughed hysterically, squirming around under me.
"Tell me and I will stop." I ordered jokingly, still tickling him.
"N-no! Never!" He continued to refuse.
"Then I won't stop." I smirked teasingly.
"Fine! Okay, I will tell you." He said in defeat, his face red.
"Alright, spill the beans." I jokingly demanded, sitting myself up on the bed and waiting for him to say something.
"Alright then, uhmm...." He began to fiddle with his fingers, a nervous expression written on his face.
"Her name's Esme, and she's a year older than me; 12 years old. She has these like, piercing blue eyes that not many people take notice of. Her hair is red, but natural red," He explained.
"She's beautiful....breathtakingly beautiful. Like Brooke Sheilds kind of beautiful. Her voice is soft and gentle, and her skin is fair and elegant. The thing is though, every time I look at her, I just get so nervous to talk to her. When I see her, it's like the whole world stops and she's the only one moving. I've never felt this way for anyone before. She's just so....magnificent!"
I sat there, a frown on my face. I wasn't sure why I was frowning, but hearing him confess his feelings for another person didn't feel right to me.
Was it because it was icky? Was it because I was jealous he had a crush and I didn't? Or was it because we were too young to be feeling this way about girls? It felt odd.
"Soooo you like her? Like, really like her?" I asked him, and he nodded.
"Oh....
He, too, frowned as he sensed something was wrong with me.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing." I lied. However, he didn't seem to believe it.
"I gotta go, it's a school night." I tell him, getting off the bed.
"Good luck with Esme. See you tomorrow." And with that, I left, not waiting on him to respond.
I gasped, getting out of the sudden flashback. They would happen so often, that it felt like I was drowning whenever I would come back to.
They were always memories of me and Aitch. Sometimes I feel like they were a sign that I should stop being in denial and pretending that nothing happened.
I never used to get them until earlier this year. They would happen whenever I touched something that reminded me of him, or touched something that was once his, or just suddenly.
It happened so often, that I would want to see more of them. I would crave that desire and it would take me right back to where I was once before. It felt like I was living again in that moment in the flashbacks. Again and again, drowning in the sorrow and guilt—but yet—it felt so right, because I desperately wanted to see him just one more time. The flashbacks are the only way I know how.
___
"And you give yourself away. And you giiivvvee, and you giiivvveee, and you give yourself away!" I sang, my notebook in front of me as I read over the notes.
I grabbed my pen and underlined a few important things to remember. Not even a minute later, there was a knock at the door.
I looked at the clock and it read 12:30 pm.
Who would be at my door this late? I wondered to myself.
I'm missing the best part of the song right now to open this bloody door.
I sighed deeply and trudged slowly towards the stairs, stopping to take a take deep breath like usual, and slowly walked down it, closing my eyes as I did so, holding onto the railing for dear life. When finally downstairs, I breathed a sigh of relief and made my way to the door and opened it. Confusion washed over me, as I saw that nobody was there. I didn't order Takeaway, so it confused me even more.
"Blasted Knock, knock, gingers." I mumbled under my breath, and closed the door.
As I was about to go back upstairs, I heard knocking again, but this time louder. I stormed towards the door again and flew it open.
"Get the hell off my porch you bloody imbeciles!" I shouted, hoping that they heard me. I almost closed the door once more, until I gazed down and saw a brown box.
I knitted my brows in confusion and looked around, but saw nobody.
Instead of picking it up, I stooped down on my knees and opened it. It had an odd smell, but nothing prepared me for what I would discover it to be.
A dead cat.
I updated this chapter to 2,000 words. It used to be 500, so if anyone reads this book again, that's why there are added scenes.
Also, it says "bloody" a lot so you guys can count how many times it's said through out the book, so it's on purpose😂