Dominic's POV
Noah didn't go to school for about three weeks now. At first I expected it. The kid was touched by another person so being gone for a week makes sense. When the second week came I was a little curious but put it to the side. Now I am just full blown irritated. Seeing his empty desk in Econ. everyday is really bugging me and what's worse is every time I come to class, my eyes instantly shoot over to it. At the end of our class period, I head over to Mr. Christian, seeing him pile a bunch of papers into a couple of binders, "Mr. Christian?"
"Oh, Dominic? What's up?" He glanced up for a moment but returned to his organizing.
I watched him carefully place each paper into a plastic wrap, making sure that once they were inside, his hands never touched them. I found it odd he was wearing gloves, but it kinda clicked after a moment of two, "Is that Noah's work?"
"Yep," he chuckled, "the kid emailed me yesterday asking for me to prepare all of it for him. Apparently someone is going to stop by and pick it up." After a couple minutes he finished and tossed the gloves in the trash.
"I can take it," the words came out before I could stop them. He gawked at me, surprised by my sudden want to help... I was surprised as well, "Um... I mean, I was going to stop by his house so I think it should be fine to have me deliver it, right?"
He pondered for a moment, but agreed, "Make sure you don't touch anything inside the bag. Also, when you deliver it, don't get too close to him. He just got released from the hospital." He gave me the bag, patting my shoulder, "You're a good kid Dominic."
I just smiled and left his class. Staring down at the brown bag as I head to my next period, I sigh, "What hell am I doing?"
~
I made it to Noah's place, seeing no cars in the driveway. Should I go through the gate thing or the front door? The front door... I mean... I am just dropping off work. Not like I'm sneaky over like before. Their front door steps seemed longer than usual and I was starting to sweat the closer I got. Why am I so freaking nervous?
I froze at the door, unsure whether to knock or just leave the bag. If I leave the bag, they don't know it's me here, but isn't it rude to just leave a bag? Maybe I should just knock and when they open the door I can shove it in their face and run away, but I think that's even worse! How about I leave a note, knock and run away? They know I dropped it off and I could make up some excuse that I didn't want to get Noah anymore sick. That would probably work. I reached into my bag to grab a paper and pen when the front door opened, "What are you doing here?" Noah wasn't wearing a hair cap nor gloves. He did have his mask on and a blanket wrapped around him, "I've been watching you stand here for like ten minutes."
"Oh.. sorry," I hold out the bag, "Mr. Christian asked me to deliver this." I placed the bag on the door step, making room between us, "It's all the work from that class. I'm not sure about your other classes though."
He picked it up, his brown hair getting some sunshine on it. He has caramel brown hair, the type that look really soft and flowy. Placing the bag behind him, he looks up at me, "Anything else?" I quickly shook my head, "So you've been standing out my door because of this?"
Sulking a bit, I mumbled, "I wasn't exactly sure how to... how to give you the stuff." A couple blinks and he was laughing. Immediately I turned red and turned away from him. His laughter was strained, like it was hard for him, but his face was soft and happy.
Between his giggles he said, "You... are... the weirdest guy... I EVER met!" In a split moment, it seemed the world stopped and all I could see was his face. His lips weren't visible, but that wasn't hypnotizing. The crinkle in the corner of his eyes, three or four creases, stood out as his eyes were slightly opened, allowing his light brown irises shine. The top corners of his nose, wrinkled up, like he was a little kid frowning. His pale skin seemed warmer, like it stopped being snow and became an ember. He glowed in a way I never seen before. From his disheveled hair to his Koala mask, he was illuminating. For a moment, just a second, I saw him as perfect.
Without thinking, forgetting why he had that mask on, I reached out. It was like time had slowed down, like everything was extended. My hand connected to his bouncy hair, shifting through his lock, feeling it's cloudlike texture. The shaking from his laughter halted and the movement between the both of us was my hand gently, sweetly, kindly rubbing his head.
But with the loud shouting of children down the street, my sense came back and I yanked my hand away. Petrified, I moved away, shoving my palm into my jeans. Noah's eyes remained on my face, like he had frozen up. I couldn't speak, I couldn't think.
I touched him.
The kid who can't be touched... I touched him.
With the blanket wrapped around his hands, he took mine. Confused, I watched him place my hand back on his head, a light tint of pink covering his cheeks, "It's okay. I won't die from this. Stop worrying, it's just my hair. As long as I don't put my hands in it before I wash it, I should be fine. It's okay."
Is it okay?
Really?