-Blake-
Well... When I told Jordan that I've slept in worse places than in a tent in a secure neighborhood, I wasn't challenging the universe.
It was cold. It was raining heavily. The wind tried its best to steal my tent. I couldn't sleep much that night. Whenever I finally nodded off, a tree somewhere cracked loudly, bending under the hard wind. I had everything I owned in plastic bags, and I hoped I'd have dry clothes in the morning since everything I was wearing got completely soaked.
Only the thought of Jordan kept me in high enough spirit to endure the measly weather. I couldn't keep my body from shivering under the wet blankets, but at least the happy feeling in my heart kept my soul warm. This weather wasn't the worst thing I had experienced. I once was stuck with crackheads for over a week when I was fourteen and I was still surprised I made it out alive. Those people had some serious issues with paranoia.
It was just one of the many bad memories I had. I had scars from trusting the wrong people. I had been so sick I thought I wouldn't make it. I had been so cold I almost started losing toes. I had ended up in places where I was forced to sleep in other people's feces. I had stayed in shelters where people cried out their misery, pain, and loneliness. I had seen my friends being dragged away by cops and security, knowing I would never see them again.
A mere fall storm wasn't enough to bring down my mood. I was mostly shielded by a small cliff anyway, and my tent was covered with waterproof canvas which kept most of the rain out.
When the morning arrived, and the storm had finally passed, I crawled out of the tent. The sky was gray, and the forest floor was filled with puddles and mud, but at least it wasn't raining anymore. I grabbed my bag and hauled it out. I opened it and searched for the plastic bag my clothes were in, and let out a happy groan when I felt the dry canvas under my touch when I pulled out my spare clothes.
Once I had changed, I tied a long, thin rope between two trees and hung the wet beddings on it to dry. Once I was done, I ate breakfast – bread without toppings, like always – and decided to go for a walk.
I had way too many hours to spend before I could go back to Jordan. I wanted to go to him right now, but there was no way I could do that without being spotted. I walked closer to the Simmons' residence, staying hidden behind the bushes. It was Sunday, so the family wasn't in a hurry to get out of bed. There was nothing interesting for me to see, not since I couldn't see Jordan, so I continued my way around the hill. I was still cold, so walking up and down the hill warmed up my aching muscles, but it didn't take me long until I was back in my camp. I made a couple of more laps, but the time still wasn't moving fast enough.
Since I had nothing else to do, I started upgrading my camp. I had to be better prepared for lousy weather. That task kept me busy for quite a few hours. I gathered more branches to give my tent some extra cover, and rocks to make some sort of block around it, so the water wouldn't get in. After I was getting too hungry to continue, I left the neighborhood to go find some food and a place where to clean up.
When the sun finally set that day, I started making my way to Jordan. I would be a bit early this time, but I hoped it was all right. I congratulated myself for being early since the yard was so wet I had to be careful not to leave any footprints. It was hard to climb up on the trellis since it was wet, and the tilted roof was basically a deathtrap. The tiles were so slippery I was getting really worried. Getting to the other end was one thing, but next I had to run and jump.
I stopped to stare at the balcony that was so really close, but so, so far away. It was hard enough to run on the roof without making loud sounds, but now...
I took a deep breath and a couple of steps back, getting ready to sprint. I had to see Jordan, so I had no choice but to try. I tried not to think about failure, which meant broken bones, which meant I would never again see Jordan. I took another deep breath.
And suddenly, a rope dropped down from the balcony. I looked up and saw a hint of midnight-black hair vanishing behind the railing. I almost cheered when I realized Jordan had tied the rope around the railing, and it was long enough for me to use to climb up.
"Nice one," I whispered, walking to the rope, yanking it a couple of times.
It was so easy to climb up this way. When I landed on the other side of the railing, I turned to find Jordan. He was standing next to his painting, giving me a short smile before turning his attention to the canvas. He seemed proud of himself. I checked the door, which was open, but I didn't go to it. Instead, I stepped closer to the wall, to Jordan.
"Thanks. The rope was a brilliant idea," I told him.
"You're welcome," Jordan said like it was nothing. Oh, I knew he only acted like he didn't care.
"So... does this mean you like having me here?" I asked carefully.
His hand stopped for the shortest moment before he continued painting. "I haven't decided yet."
"Really?" I asked, looking at the rope. "Well, at least you don't want me to break my neck."
"Or catch a cold," he said, and when I turned back around, he was looking at me.
I frowned, so he pointed his brush at something behind me. I turned around and saw a big cup of tea on a table next to the door, and a woolen blanket on the backrest of a chair. I gave Jordan a smile and slowly made my way to the table. I touched the blanket lightly, feeling warm already.
I pulled it over my shoulders and grabbed the cup. Tea. Oh, God... when was the last time I had a nice cup of tea?
"Thank you," I told Jordan when I returned to him. "Aren't you getting cold with the door open?"
"I like fresh air. Especially now with all this stuff lying about," he said, pointing at a bunch of paint cans he had open on his table. He was wearing quite a lot of clothes, which was kind of a disappointment since they hid his nice body, but his well-being was more important to me than that.
"Well, if it gets too cold for you–"
"I'll live," Jordan said with a smile, but it faded soon, and he looked down at his palette. "I... I was worried... about you."
"Why?" I chuckled.
"The weather was really bad last night," Jordan said softly. "I couldn't get any sleep. I just kept picturing you... in that storm..."
"I have a good tent," I told him. "I was completely fine."
I decided to leave out the part where I was shivering in my wet, cold clothes. His concern for me was... That was quite something.
"It's not getting any better anytime soon," Jordan continued, looking back at me.
"What isn't?"
"The weather."
"Oh... Well, I'll just have to go buy warmer clothes," I said cheerily. "Thanks for the heads-up."
"You have no idea how bad the storms can get around here," Jordan said with a hint of sadness in his eyes. "You should go and find yourself a better place to stay."
"I can't just go and rent an apartment. I could maybe find a shed, or an abandoned building close-by," I said, thinking about my options.
"No... I mean, you should move on. Find a warmer state," Jordan continued, his voice almost too quiet for me to hear.
"Sorry. Can't do that," I said with a smile. He stared at me for a moment, then gave me a shy smile before hiding his face from me.
"Is it because of..." Jordan mumbled, but by the end of it, I couldn't hear him anymore.
"I didn't quite get that," I chuckled.
"Never mind," he said, but his red cheeks betrayed him.
I couldn't stop smiling. I took a careful sip of my tea and groaned when the warmth filled my body and soul. "This is so good..." I said and took a bigger gulp.
"I guess you can't make tea in that tent of yours," Jordan said.
"I should probably go buy a cooker. I can't prepare any five-star meals, but at least I'd get a warm dinner now and then," I spoke, practically hugging the hot cup to take in the warmth.
Jordan gave me a pitying look. I knew my life sounded awful for pretty much everyone, but I didn't see it like that. Sure there were bad moments, but there were a lot of good ones as well.
"What are you painting?" I asked, hoping to change the subject.
"I..." Jordan looked at his painting and tilted his head. "I guess I'm trying expressionism this time."
"What?" I chuckled, and he turned his painting so I could see it. The canvas was half-filled with red, green, and yellow stripes in no particular order or form. "Ah."
I turned my attention back to Jordan, who was studying the lines. He seemed fascinated by them, and I would've taken a closer look at the painting if Jordan himself wasn't much more fascinating to me.
It took him a while to inspect his work, and I didn't bother him. I enjoyed the peace and quiet as I pulled the blanket tighter around my shoulders, sipping my tea. I let my eyes trail up and down on his body, feeling so much joy to be allowed to do so without having to hide behind the flowers. Yes, I was well aware of how bad that sounded.
Jordan probably forgot I was there, since when he turned around and saw me, he flinched, almost jumping away from the wall.
"Sorry..." I said, taking a step back as well.
Jordan shook his head, keeping his eyes on the floor. He took several deep breaths before he was able to look up again. He let out a light chuckle, but his entire body screamed nervousness.
"Should I leave you alone?" I asked.
"No, don't," Jordan hurried to say. "Please. I can manage."
"I..." I mumbled and stepped back next to the wall. "I hate to see you scared," I told him quietly.
He stared at me for a moment, tilting his head, looking at me the same way he had looked at his painting just now.
"Why are you like this?" he asked.
"Like what?"
"You're so... nice. You're a criminal, and you stalked me for days. What stops you from coming in and do and take whatever you want?" he spoke with a hesitant voice.
"Listen... The only reason I steal from people is because I need to survive somehow. I wish I didn't have to do it, but I took a path I can't turn away from anymore. I don't mean any harm to anyone. I just want to survive."
"What do you mean, you can't turn away from anymore?" Jordan asked, coming closer to me.
"I have no name, no education, and I've been in jail three times already. Who would hire me? Who would give me a place to stay?" I asked, putting the empty teacup away.
"I'm sure there are plenty of organizations and people who would be glad to help," Jordan said. "You could go to a shelter."
"Been there, done that," I said, lifting up my jacket and shirt to reveal my stomach, and the long scar across my skin. "I know not all of them are the same, but I have trust issues. After everything I've been through, I've learned to have some... cautiousness, when dealing with people."
"What happened?" Jordan asked, staring at my scar until I let my clothes fall back down.
"The others found out I'm a thief. Then someone lost their wallet, and suddenly, I wasn't welcomed anymore," I said, trying to keep the bitterness out of my voice. "I was fifteen."
Jordan nodded slowly, still keeping his eyes on somewhere around my mid-torso.
"Those organizations you're talking about... Not all are that happy to help. Not all are friendly and kind. I've seen abuse and neglect and people using their power for their own gain. Some of them turn a blind eye to some pretty bad things that are happening inside their walls, and some of them are the ones doing those bad things," I spoke, keeping my voice down, even though I was getting heated up.
"Okay... okay..." Jordan said quietly, almost soothingly. "I get it."
It was my turn to stare at him, and then I let out a light laugh, shaking my head. "Not all of them are bad. I just... tend to forget that sometimes..."
"Trust me, I know what you mean," Jordan said and looked down again.
I still didn't know why he was scared of people, but that wasn't the right time to ask about it. I had a couple of ideas about what had happened to him, and each and every one of them froze my blood in horror.
"I'm sorry... I wasn't supposed to start ranting...." I said, knowing that all I could do was to change the subject.
"No, I'm sorry for what you've been through," he said with a sincere voice.
"Likewise," I spoke quietly, and he stopped to stare at me for a moment.
"Do you... Would you like more?" he asked with a blush, pointing at my cup, lowering his gaze.
"Oh, no, I don't want to be a bother," I said, waving my hand dismissively.
"Okay..." he mumbled.
The conversation died after that. I racked my brains to come up with a topic to discuss since we both were just standing there in awkwardness.
"I should..." Jordan muttered and looked at his painting, and I immediately knew what to ask.
"You mentioned expressionism. I don't know what that is," I spoke, and his face just lit up.
"Oh! Well, I guess what I have here is more of abstract expressionism, but..." he began, stepping closer to his painting. He continued speaking, using so many big words I got lost in no time. I recognized a few names, like Van Gogh, but art really wasn't my thing. However, I loved listening to him, so I didn't interrupt.
He had such an enthusiastic look on his face that I couldn't help but fall for him even harder. It was clear he had missed talking to people. Did he really have no one to talk to? Suddenly, my own life didn't seem as lonely as his.
"Sorry... I'm babbling..." Jordan suddenly said, his cheeks turning red again.
"No, no, no! Please, continue. I like learning about new stuff," I told him with a smile. I wasn't learning anything since I was too mesmerized by his looks to actually pay attention, but that was just a minor detail he didn't need to know about.
"You can't possibly be interested in this stuff," Jordan said, waving his hand towards his painting.
"Well, in case I decide to branch out to art thievery, I should probably know about these things," I joked.
Jordan seemed like he wasn't sure if I was joking or not. He gave me a polite smile before hesitantly turning to face the painting.
"I was kidding," I told him.
"You'd better. Do you have any idea how hard it is to sell stolen paintings? I wouldn't recommend," he said, and this time it was I who wasn't sure if he was just taking part in my goofery, or actually giving me advice.
"I don't know. I think I'm pretty good at selling stuff," I said with a smirk. Still joking.
"Oh really?" he chuckled, and now I knew we both were just goofing around.
"Yes, really! I could steal Mona Lisa and get it sold without getting caught!"
Jordan laughed at my words. "Well then. I wish you good luck with the bulletproof casing it has."
"Casing?" I repeated.
"You wouldn't leave the most famous painting of our time just lying around, would you?" Jordan smirked. "Or without guards."
"Probably not," I laughed. "Is it true it's actually quite small?"
"You are not going to steal the Mona Lisa," Jordan said sternly, but he still had a smile on his face.
"Now how am I supposed to get a plane ticket to France without a passport?"
"I'm just kidding," Jordan said, but now his expression was dropping, and his posture was losing strength. He stared at his own painting for a moment before he turned to grab his palette. "France... now that would be quite something..."
I watched him take a look around in his living room. The sadness on his face broke my heart.
"It's settled then," I said. "I'll go steal Mona Lisa and bring it to you!"
"You are not going to steal it!" Jordan said, and I was relieved to see his smile. "I thought you're a smart criminal."
"What gave you the impression I was smart? I tried to rob you guys! And you caught me just when I was going to leave for good!"
Jordan's smile faded. "You were... for good?"
"I... Yeah... I don't think I would've been able to go through with that plan, though," I said truthfully. "I mean, that was the third time I tried to leave."
Jordan tilted his head, staying silent for a moment. "Yeah, you're not that smart after all."
"Thanks," I laughed. "Thanks a lot."
"You're welcome," he smiled, looking happy.