~NICO~
I face-planted into my bed for the second time today - and both times I was thinking of the same person. I forced a long, deep breath from my nose; the rush of air tickled the top of my lip and warmed the cotton sheets against my cheek. Christian's face - his brilliant, bright blue eyes and multicoloured hair - seemed almost branded behind my eyelids. Every time I blinked, his angelic face flashed in the darkness… it almost made my want to blink more.
I had no clue what was going on - the only thing I could process in my head was that Christian Matthews was the most beautiful person I had ever seen in my life… and I couldn't stop thinking about him.
I groan into my sheet. Great. Just great. You know that feeling when your worst suspicions are finally confirmed? It's like the whole world just stops for that one instant, that one moment, and every worry that you've stored in that deep pocket in the back of your mind suddenly becomes clear. And it sucks.
'This is torture,' I moaned, heaving a sigh and clenching my fists. I squeezed my eyes shut but his face only became clearer behind my eyelids - like I'd been staring at the sun too long and now it was the only thing I could see. An imprint of his face - a face I'd only known for an hour but still couldn't escape from…
What the hell was I going to do for the next three weeks?
It'd aways been a nagging suspicion in the back of my brain - something that I'd stored away since I was fourteen. I still remembered my first crush… he'd been in my class. Jason. Jason Layton.
He'd had blonde hair and green eyes, and he was missing his left incisor. I'd never actually found out why - the rumours had circulated, the most popular being that a member of the Bra Boys had punched it out when he was crashing their party at Maroubra. The second-most popular was that he'd knocked it out when he was joyriding in a stolen car.
I didn't think any of those theories were true, though - I knew they weren't. Jason Layton lived three houses down from me, and on the occasion, I could hear the screams of pain echo through the suburban streets, the slur of his drunken father as he beat him. He'd come to school, bruised black and blue, and tell his friends all about the made-up mischief he'd gotten into that had branded him a juvenile delinquent.
He'd caught me staring at him once, at the beginning of the year, and snapped. He'd thought I was a freak - it wasn't as if he was far off the mark. He used to drag me to the back alleys of the school and beat me up. Beat me just like his own father did to him.
But as much as it hurt, I couldn't bring myself to hate him. I could never hate him… even thought it hurt, I wanted him to hurt me. Because I just wanted him to be better. Happier. I thought, somehow, that if he hurt me… I could make him happy.
I would never have stopped him, either. He could've killed me and I'd never have stopped him, I'd never have told anyone. I wanted to stay there with him, too, but my parents had noticed the bruises. They'd gotten suspicious. I'd put it down to sporting accidents, but by the time I'd broken three ribs they moved me to Sydney Boy's High when they found out I'd been accepted. I never saw Jason Layton again… I wasn't even sure if he still lived on my street.
After that, I'm not sure what happened. I shut it all into the back of my mind - denied the fact that I'd ever liked Jason, that I'd ever let him hurt me. I tried to forget it ever happened, I guess.
But now it was all clear. Everything in my mind was clear. The emotions I'd pushed back into the corner of my brain were bleeding through the barriers like a leaking dam. As the thoughts invaded me, I realised that for the first time since Year Seven, someone had moved something in me. Someone had made me care.
It wasn't really anything. It wasn't something I could hold on to. I'd exchanged less than two minutes worth of conversation with Christian Matthews, but for some reason everything was flooding back into me.
And it was terrifying.
'Uhhh…' I blinked my eyes open and sat up groggily, rubbing my scalp. Looking down at my rumpled sheets, I realised I'd fallen asleep in my jeans and sneakers without even unpacking my comforter. Early-morning sunlight streamed through the cracks in the blinds, but other than that, the room was still dark.
I blinked a few times, rubbed my eyes and glanced over at the digital watch across the room on my desk. The numbers were just big enough for me to make them out - it was… 'Six-thirty?'
I groaned, flopped back down and tried to go back to sleep, but I knew it was impossible - I'd never get back to sleep. I twisted around in my sheets so that I was laying on my back, staring up at the white, shadowed ceiling. Six-thirty… I rarely ever woke up before ten on the holidays. I realised, though, that I'd been out cold almost immediately after dinner. Huh. Another first - I barely fell asleep before eleven.
Sighing, I sat up again, rubbing my shoulders and head slowly. I wasn't going to get back to sleep, but now I was awake, I could at least enjoy the early-morning sunlight. Any form of summer sun between the hours of ten to three were far too harsh for me to stand. I was practically an albino.
I swung my legs over the bed and ambled out of the room. The hallways was dark and quiet - everyone else was still asleep, I assumed. It wasn't like my family to be up before nine.
I pushed the sliding screen door open as quietly as possible and slipped out into the sunshine - the sun was already elevated high up in the sky; the cicadas buzzed deafeningly from the eucalyptus trees that encircled the house, the water was bright as the light danced on the ripples. I put my hand over my face… could I still get sunburnt this early in the morning?
I stumbled over to the wooden deck chairs and collapsed in one, closing my eyes and tilting my face up to the sun. Fifteen minutes, I allowed myself. Because I was too lazy to force myself to put on sunscreen.
My breaths came in and out slowly; my body relaxed into the chair. It was… peaceful. I could almost fall back asleep out here.
'You're up early,' a playful voice commented somewhere to my left.
I jumped and whipped around, my widened eyes landed on Christian, leaning against the doorframe, hovering in-between the house and the deck. I tried to say something, but nothing came out of my mouth but a half-nervous, half-terrified squeak.
Christian pushed himself off the doorframe and started walking towards me - in the sun, the million colours in his hair seemed to illuminate. I could pick out countless different shades of blonde, light-brown and even auburn.
'Can I sit?' he asked, but he didn't wait for my nod. He took the deck chair next to mine and flopped into it, his body going limp. 'It's nice here.'
'Mm-hmm,' was all I could manage.
Our silence was filled with the cicadas in the trees and the lapping waves. I stared at him, open-mouthed, as he angled his face to the sun and closed his eyes, just like I'd been only a moment before.
'Do you usually wake up this early?' he asked, suddenly shattering the silence.
I shook my head, then realised he couldn't see it. 'Uhh, no. I usually wake up at ten… dunno why I woke up three-and-a-half hours early.'
His lips flickered upwards in a smile. 'I usually sleep in, too. But, you know, first night in a new place. It takes a lot for me to sleep.'
I nodded slowly, staring at him even harder than before. I silently prayed he didn't open his eyes and catch me gawking at him.
But no sooner did the thought cross my mind, Christian's head shifted and his bright, blue eyes opened - directed straight at me.
My face when hot - our eyes connected for a millisecond before I dropped my gaze, embarrassed and slightly scared… eye-contact with Jason three years ago hadn't ended well… I felt myself flinch as I remembered Jason.
'What's wrong?' Christian's voice was laced with concern. His eyebrows were furrowing over his sky-blue eyes.
I couldn't help but look up and gape at him like an idiot. What's wrong?… Nobody ever asked me what was wrong. I didn't even know how to respond. 'N-nothing.' I choked the lie through my teeth, shaking my head like I could convince myself there really was nothing wrong.
Christian gave me a careful look, like he knew I was lying, but he only nodded slowly. 'Okay, then.'
I nodded back… what else was I supposed to do? Christian was staring at me - two brilliant, blue tunnels boring into my own drab, grey eyes - I was almost ashamed to look at him. He was an angel, and I was an ugly, skinny little kid. I forced myself to look down - like a mortal averting his eyes for the gods.
From the corner of my eyes, I could see Christian leaning forward him his chair - his body angled to me. I kept my gaze on my hands clenched on my lap.
'You're strange,' he said thoughtfully, as if the notion had only just occurred to him.
I only nodded once. 'I know.' I did know, after all - I was reminded everyday.
'So, why don't you have anyone to invite over?' he questioned. The chair creaked under him as he leaned even closer. 'Don't you have any friends?'
I shook my head. I could feel his breath tickling my neck now - half my brain was screaming for me to jump out of the chair and run for the hills, the other half was urging me to stay - see how close he could get.
'Really?' he pressed. He was closer, now. Too close. I started shifted to the other side of my chair to evade him. 'You don't have any friends? Even in a nerd-school?'
I shook my head again. My brain didn't even process the nerd-school comment - only the fact that he was getting even closer.
'That's funny.'
'No, it's not,' I snapped quietly. When you were at least a head shorter than all the other boys in your year, when your skin was the same colour as the white board and you barely ever spoke - not to mention you were in all the top classes, and therefore a perpetual threat to all the other students - then, no, you didn't have friends. And, no, there was nothing funny about being forever alone.
'I didn't mean humorous funny. Just strange - I'd've thought you'd have at least one friend.'
I whipped around to stare at him, but couldn't think of anything to say back. I'd never had any friends. I wasn't even entirely sure what was wrong with me… but in my own experience, kids your age seemed to be able to smell it on you. Any hint of oddness - it may not be obvious, either - and you were immediately alienated. That was, after all, the way high school worked.
I cleared my throat awkwardly. 'Well… I don't,' I responded in a whisper.
'Did you ever have any friends?' Christian pressed on, still leaning forward with his blue eyes trained on me.
I thought about it for a moment. 'No,' I concluded. 'Everyone in primary school thought I was a girl.'
Christian's laugh punctured the morning's silence. 'A girl?'
'Yeah,' I muttered indignantly. 'I had short hair, I wore the boy's uniform… but I looked like a girl. So I didn't have any friends.'
Christian studied me, a smile still dancing on his lips. 'Yeah… I can see that. With some hair extensions and a dress I reckon you could pass as a girl.'
My mouth dropped. I glared at him as intensely as I could muster - trying to channel a 10 / 10 death stare.
'I mean - you definitely look like a boy now…'
I shot him a dangerous look.
'I mean… a lot of guys can pass in drag…'
Keep going, I dare you, I warned him internally.
Christian only chuckled. 'Don't worry about it.'
'Well, its not like it's any better now - I look like I haven't even hit puberty,' I grumbled. I heard a gawff from Christian - I turned to give him a black look before realising he was holding back a fit of laughter. 'Shut up,' I muttered darkly.
'Sorry,' he murmured weakly. Tears were welling in his eyes as he suppressed a snigger. 'Sorry, but…'
He threw his head back, covered his face in his hands and started laughing loudly into his palms.
'What's so funny?' I demanded.
'You're - just - so - short,' he choked through the howls of laughter. Finally, he signed deeply and looked down, his shoulder still shaking with the occasional silent giggle. 'I'm sorry. Put it down to sleep deprivation.'
I didn't say anything. There was nothing to say, anyways. There wasn't anything I could do about being short. I glared down at my palms uncomfortably.
'Nico?' Christian's voice had suddenly lost all his laugher. I looked up from my hands to find his deep, blue eyes trained on me once more, full of sincerity and concern. 'I'm sorry. Did I offend you? I'm sorry… I wasn't trying to be mean…' he trailed off, his eyebrows knitting together. 'I'm -'
'You don't have to keep apologising,' I interrupted, putting a hand up to stop his incessant "sorry"'s. 'It's not like I'm not used to it.'
Christian grimaced. 'That makes it even worse.'
'Huh?'
'I don't want to be like everyone else is to you.'
My jaw went slack. What? My mind was spinning as I tried to interpret his statement - So, what? Was he saying he wanted to be my friend? The only thing I could think to say was: 'Huh?'
'I don't want to be a bully,' he clarified. 'Because I'm not like that.'
'Oh.' So that didn't mean he wanted to be a friend - just not an enemy. It's not like I can blame him. 'That's… nice.'
Christian nodded, still looking at me. His gaze was so intense, it left me squirming in my chair - I squinted up at the sun; it was growing hotter by the instant. 'It's too bright,' I complained, standing up so suddenly Christian looked almost frightened. 'I'm going back inside.'
I whipped around and abruptly fled back into the safety of the cool, dark house.
I left Christian behind me with a quizzical look on his face. Even as I left, I could feel his blue gaze on my back.
A/N
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