It's now an hour later, and Casey and I finished our dinner a while ago. I've made my way onto the floor so he can lay on the couch, working on my assignments from school as the TV plays for Casey.
Finally finishing my last question, I stretch both my arms above my head, causing a big yawn to escape. Grabbing my phone, I look at the time; it's already 10 pm. Looking behind me where Casey is, I notice he's asleep. Looks like the Benadryl finally kicked in. Turning around to face him fully, I put my knees up and lay my chin on top and watch him sleep peacefully. Not in some creepy way, just to admire him.
I trace his features with my eyes from his full eyebrows to his sharp nose, noticing the couple of small, flat moles that dot his cheek, as well as one on his chin and above his right eyebrow, and two on the side of his face. I then move my attention to his closed eyes with his long, thick lashes. From there I really start to take in his deep under-eye circles. With a deep sigh, I think about how I noticed them at the bar as well. He must have been really tired and sleep-deprived for a while now. Feeling bad, I'm glad he can finally get some rest now.
Looking up, I notice a piece of Casey's hair falling onto his eyes. I reach out and gently move it away, smiling softly to myself at the sight of him sleeping peacefully. As I watch him, I can't help but think back to Mr. Pierre's words. He's right—I haven't had many people in my life, and those I have had often ended up disappointing me.
I gaze at Casey, wondering if he will be any different. Will he become another fleeting presence in my life, leaving me disappointed and alone once again? Shaking off the thought, I turn my attention back to the room. This place really is a mess. Getting up, I decide to set those thoughts aside for now and help clean up his apartment since he's sick; plus, it's no trouble.
Starting with our dirty dishes, I try to be as quiet as possible to not wake him up, but the TV playing mostly muffles any noise I make, thankfully.
After cleaning the dishes and putting away all the leftover soup. I can't help but notice the abundance of empty beer cans and bottles that litter the room. They're everywhere, on the table, the counter, even on the floor. Opening the fridge, I find it packed with more.
I try not to jump to conclusions or judge, but the sight does raise some concern. Is this just a one-time thing, or is it a regular occurrence? I know people have different ways of coping with stress or dealing with things, but I can't help but wonder if there's more to it.
I hope he's doing okay. I hope he's not using alcohol as a crutch or a way to escape from something. I want to be here for him, to support him in any way I can. But right now, all I can do is clean up and hope for the best.
Once I finish cleaning the apartment, I also take in the many boxes scattered around. Curious if I can help unpack a few things for him, I approach one and carefully open it, still trying not to wake him.
Opening one of the boxes, I'm surprised to find it's just filled with books and used journals. Slowly grabbing one of the journals, I trace the spine and turn it over, curious about what he used it for.
I smile, feeling like I've stumbled upon a treasure trove of his inner thoughts and imagination. It's a side of him I hadn't seen before, and it makes me feel closer to him in a way.
Setting the journal aside, I continue to unpack the box, taking care to organize the books and journals neatly. Each one feels like a piece of his story, a glimpse into his mind and thoughts.
Looking at the neat pile, I smile to myself about the new discovery. Looking over at the other box, I can't help but open it as well. Gazing inside, there's a shiny black typewriter. I can't help but giggle to myself from the unexpected discovery.
"Well, well, well, Mr. Grumpy Pants, is a secret writer, huh?" I tease, feeling amused by the idea of Casey sitting at a typewriter, lost in his thoughts, crafting stories.
I guess there's still so much we don't know about each other. Rather than prying, I'll let him share these parts of himself with me when he's ready. Quietly, I begin carefully placing the books and journals back into the box.
Rising I return to where my schoolwork is spread out, gathering my belongings, I turn to see Casey still sleeping soundly. A soft smile graces my lips as I retrieve a blanket from the end of the couch and carefully drape it over him, making sure he stays warm and comfortable.
After ensuring Casey is comfortable, I quietly gather my things and turn off the TV and head towards the door, casting one last look at him before I leave. The apartment is peaceful, filled only with the sound of his gentle breathing. With a sense of contentment, I close the door behind me, and make my way to my own apartment.
I overslept a bit, probably from staying over late at Casey's and having to clean his apartment right before I left. Throughout all my classes today, I couldn't shake off the worry about Casey. I noticed he didn't go to work again because his car was still parked when I left. It was tempting to go over this morning and check on him myself, but I decided against it. Besides, I didn't want to risk waking him up if he's still not feeling well; he needs all the sleep he can get.
During my last class, I found myself constantly checking the clock, counting down the minutes until it ended so I could check up on Casey. However, even when class ended, it would still be a while before I could see him, because I had work today too. I couldn't help but feel like a worried mother, concerned for his well-being.
Feeling frustrated, I try to continue working on one of my paintings in class. As I work on it, I must admit it's one of the best pieces I've ever painted, yet. While adding details, I notice my professor approaching from my peripheral. Standing behind me and observing my painting, I turn my head and give her a smile.
"That's looking lovely Miss Hayes, I think it's your best one yet."
Feeling proud of her compliment, I thank her.
"Thank you, Professor Monroe. I was just thinking that. I think I've really refined my technique for painting water."
With a wave of her hand, she dismisses my formalities. "Oh please, you've been my student long enough now, Colette. Please call me Evelyn."
It's true, I have been her student and had her as a teacher more than once now. I even used to come to her studio to work on my paintings before I started doing it on my balcony. She's always been my favorite professor. Her passion for painting and art, in general, has always been so inspirational to me, and I've looked up to her since.
Chuckling, I respond, "Sorry, professor Evelyn."
Shaking her head at me, she looks back at my painting, observing it intently. "I actually wanted to ask you something, Colette."
This gets my attention as I look at her, waiting for her to continue.
Still observing my painting, she goes on. "There's this art gala at the end of the month, and they've given me permission to invite a couple of students I thought should be featured in it."
Looking back at me, she says, "I was thinking you would like to be included."
Shocked by the invitation, I look at her with wide eyes, surprised by her offer.
"I... I would be honored," I manage to say smiling broadly as I move in to hug and thank her.
"Thank you so much for thinking of me."
Letting her go, I add, "I can't tell you how much this means to me."
Chuckling, she pats my back, helping me settle down from all my excited jitters. "Of course, dear, You're a talented artist; you deserve it."
Looking at my unfinished painting, she goes on to say, "You're welcome to display any work of art you want, but I see a lot of potential in this one. But don't let me sway you. This is your show, and I'm confident anything you bring will be spectacular."
Walking away, she gives me wink and says, "You've got this."
I stand there, unable to wipe the smile from my face. My first-ever art gala—I can't believe it. This is so exciting; I've never done anything like this. Suddenly feeling nervous, I look up to the painting I was currently working on. Should I focus on this one for the show? It's a bit of a personal piece, but it is probably my best work yet. Plus, I want something that has meaning If I'm going to display my work to the public.
As I start daydreaming about the show, I realize I won't really have anyone to invite and show off my painting to. I could bring Mr. Pierre since he has always been super supportive of my art journey, but he's so old now, and I'd hate to drag him over to the event late at night for a couple of hours, especially knowing him; he's too nice to refuse if I asked. He already has a hard enough time at the shop. All of a sudden, my mind starts to drift towards Casey, and then I remember how he's not feeling well, and all those previous worries I had all day start coming back. All that talk and excitement from earlier made me completely forget about Casey for a minute. Looking at the time, I notice class is about to end, so I start cleaning up and packing all my things so I can get out as quickly as I can, eagerly wanting to get to work and then see Casey.
Work wasn't any different. I was restless the whole time, my mind drifting back to Casey and how he might be feeling. I kept replaying our last interaction in my head, wondering if there was something more I could have done or said to make him feel better. My tasks at work seemed to drag on, each minute feeling like an eternity as I longed to finish up and go check on him. Clearly unable to focus on my task and my constant fidgeting, Mr. Pierre seemed to notice.
"What's got you so antsy, Soleil ?" He asks, a little concerned.
Sorting through a bundle of small flowers, I sigh and drop my hands down on the table.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Pierre. I've just been so worried about Casey all day. He got sick, and I somehow felt responsible, so I spent all day yesterday trying to make him feel better. I just want to know how he's doing."
Seeming to understand why I have been acting the way I have, he comes over and sits next to me, taking the flower from my hand.
"It's not your responsibility to fix everything, my dear. You're a caring soul, but don't forget to take care of yourself too." He says sincerely.
Looking down, I fiddle with a leaf. "I know, I just can't help but worry. I feel like I finally have someone in my life, even if it hasn't been that long, and I'm afraid I'll mess it up. But I don't want him to think I'm smothering him," I say, finally looking up to him.
Mr. Pierre listens attentively, his expression softening with understanding. "Soleil, my dear, it's only natural to worry about those we care for. But remember, caring for someone doesn't mean smothering them. It means being there for them, supporting them, and giving them space when they need it. Casey is lucky to have someone like you looking out for him. Just be yourself, and everything will fall into place." He places a comforting hand on mine, giving me a reassuring smile.
Smiling back, I lean over to give him a hug.
Once he pulls away, he adds, "Maybe it's time for a different approach. Instead of fussing over him, why not try being there for him in a different way? Sometimes, a simple gesture can speak volumes." With that, he gets up and goes back to his work.
Thinking back to his words, I look down at all the small flowers spread out that I was working on earlier. A small smile spreads on my face as an idea comes to mind.
Getting off the bus at the apartment complex, I make sure to be careful not to crush the little bundle of flowers I had put together for Casey. I thought about what Mr. Pierre said, and I decided to just hope I can make him feel better with small gestures like this and ask how he's doing, letting everything else happen naturally.
Walking up to his now familiar door, I knock lightly, waiting for him to answer. Finally, the door opens to reveal Casey, looking much better than yesterday. His dark under eye circles have mostly gone away, and his face looks way less tired and pale.
"Colette?" I hear him ask, causing me to remember why I came over.
Pushing the flowers forward, I find my voice. "These are for you, just a little something I put together at the flower shop I work at, since you know, you haven't been feeling well."
Looking down at the flowers I'm holding out to him, he slowly takes them from me, like he isn't sure how to react to this.
Once my hands are free, I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear.
"How are you feeling? Any better?" I ask, catching his attention.
Clearing his throat, he seems to find his words too. "Better, actually. I should be going back to work tomorrow." With a pause, he adds, "Thanks to you."
Causing a small smile from me, I nod and whisper a "That's good." After a minute, I step back and point to my door.
"I should head back, but I'm glad you're feeling better, Casey." With that, I turn around, ready to leave.
After a couple steps, I hear him speak up.
"Colette wait."
Not expecting him to say anything else, I turn around to face him, holding both my upper arms, waiting for him.
Rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand, he seems to consider his next words.
"I just wanted to say thank you... for the flowers, and for caring. It means a lot to me."
For some reason, his words leave me feeling a little disappointed. I guess I was expecting something else, even if I'm not sure what.
With another soft smile, I respond. "Of course. You would do the same."
he sighs, a somewhat defeated smile on his face as he looks at me. "Seriously, Colette, thank you. If there's anything you need, just let me know."
With a nod, I turn back around and start heading back to my apartment, then suddenly remembering something I turn around, catching Casey before he heads back inside his own place.
"Wait. There is one thing."
Surprised, he nods for me to continue.
Nervously, I start fiddling with my fingers, finding the courage to ask him this favor.
Clearing my throat, I look away and ask, "So, there's this art gala being held in town, and it's featuring a couple students who got picked to display their art work. I didn't want to go alone and was wondering if you would want to come with me?"
Looking back over, I finish and wait for him to answer, feeling nervous as he processes everything I just said. When he still doesn't say anything, I quickly add, "It's not until the end of the month, so you don't need to give me an answer now."
Finally nodding, he says a quiet "Okay."
"Cool." With a little wave I turn around and finally head back to my apartment. Just as I'm about to reach my door, I call out to him, "Oh, and you're also welcome for cleaning up that disaster in your apartment, by the way."
Glancing over my shoulder, I catch Casey with a small smile, looking in my direction. Blushing, I quickly turn back around and hurry inside.