42: Tetris in a Fog
Rhys
Slow footfalls from my behind have me turning around from the glorious view of our roof deck. I hug my jacket tighter as an early morning gust of cold wind passes.
Asia stands before me, freshly showered and looking every bit of an American boy, with his white hoodie, light-washed jeans and a backward baseball cap. I roll my eyes and chuckle. "No offense, but have you ever wondered why you were named Asia?"
He snickers and shrugs. "I never asked but if it makes sense, I was adopted by an Asian couple."
I nod, puckering my lips while studying his blonde hair and bright blue eyes. "It sort of does. My parents named me Tetris because they both love the game. Fell in love from bonding over it."
He snickers. "Figures."
Silence stretches.
"Well..." He begins, both of us now gazing at the sky where the sun is slowly rising. "I'm driving back. Do you want to send a message or anything?"
"I'm good. As much as I appreciate your advice, I think I still need time to process everything."
"All right." He gives me a tight smile. "See you soon?"
I return it with a sheepish one of my own. "Thank you, Asia."
He throws me a salute before turning his back on me. A moment later, I watch as he says goodbye to Jess and when he pulls away from the driveway.
I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding and closed my eyes. This is the space I've asked for. Away from LA. Away from the ruckus. Away from the prying eyes.
Now I just need to figure out what I really want to happen once I return.
Alec
I stare out at Holland's chicken farm from his terrace.
It's a cluster of clucking and crowing and wings flapping that I can't help but grimace. Holland had bought this house with a huge backyard three years ago, then built at least fifty chicken coops on it for the hundreds of pet chickens he owned. It was amusing and had been a running joke between us then. But looking and hearing it now, I feel as though I'm bursting out of my skin.
It's like a chicken shelter in here than a home.
I walk back inside the house and pull out my phone. Clicking Tetris' name, I send out a text. 'Here at a chicken house. Guess who owns it?'
I stare at my phone for a long minute, before I send out another.
'Actually, don't answer that. Call me instead.'
I imagine Tetris reading the text and rolling her eyes at it. Muttering something along the lines of how demanding I am or who the fuck do I think I am. I can't help the small smile that suddenly appears on my face.
God, I miss her.
Her ever-existing glare, her no-nonsense remarks, her sweet smile, her humor and simply the feel of her in my arms. It feels ages ago since I last saw her when it has only been four days. I'm still holding out some hope that she's going to reach out to me before we leave for the European tour again.
Yes, again.
Our producer demanded it push through instead of refunding the tickets due to high demand. It's going to begin this Saturday and we will be gone for three weeks from then. I don't think I can take it if I have to wait that long to see her again. Not that I have a choice.
I went to her apartment with the same disguise I wore on our first date a couple of weeks ago. Not only was she missing, but I also gained another shallow bite from Tripper. Rosie didn't say where she'd gone no matter how much I begged for it, which was why I settled with texting and calling her number instead.
Holland enters the room in a series of huffs. I notice he's holding a black bag covered in dust and cobwebs. He raises it in the air and slightly shakes it off. Specks of dust disperse around us and fog the air, triggering a string of haggard coughs from both of us. "What the hell, dude?"
I suddenly remember how Tetris and I met when the air cleared. She's been extremely allergic to dust and what Holland just did could've killed her. A shudder runs through me at the thought.
Holland doesn't answer me. Instead, he lays it on the table and unfastens the zipper. Papers and notebooks meet my eyes as he pulls it open.
He asked me to meet him earlier but he didn't tell me why. I had guessed that this might be all about the media storm we're currently dealing with. It's already been a week and there's still no sign that it will die down soon. People still assume, come up with theories, pull out old news about Tetris and me and keep dragging our names to dirt.
We haven't taken any actions yet since we're waiting to hear from Tetris. We owe her as much.
Holland and I don't seem to share the same idea when he puts out the scattered papers and places them in a neat pile beside the bag. Then he grabs the notebooks one by one until there's nothing left. A frown etches its way on my forehead when I see a mustard yellow notebook being slowly revealed before my eyes.
For a moment I don't recognize it. But then, Tetris' voice rings inside my head and gives way to the fury that emanates from deep within me.
I pull Holland's shirt and give him a wake-up punch on the jaw, while a rooster lets out a loud cry in the distance.
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