It was a terrible summer. But not because of the overwhelming heat; I couldn’t feel it. The area was suffering from a terrible mosquito invasion; I only wondered why my skin blistered. Twenty days. I needed two pairs of hands to count them all yet the other pair was missing. Gone. Just like that. You told me to stop following you around all the time, as if I was a lost puppy. I listened. Never again. I wouldn’t obey a word you said. That is, if I ever heard another one. It were days like these that I hated. Nothing to do, a lot of things to dwell on.
I didn’t follow you, as promised, but you dodged me. There was something wrong, I could tell. I skipped class when I could but even then you were hard to find. Maybe I shouldn’t have let you get to know me. Because I lost my entire element of surprise. And when I did finally catch a glimpse of you, you disappeared, leaving only a sickeningly sweet aroma behind. I could tell. It wasn’t that hard. What was it? What did it matter, what did it change? In a week, you were gone completely.
Phone calls. Almost every day. There and back, click, ring, dial, ring, click, ring. Ten days. Not a sign. Maybe we should rob a bank together some time. You’re awfully good at hiding. Especially from the police. I had come to the police station with your parents. And mine. Can’t honestly say the men were terribly concerned about your fate. People had seen you, yes. In the red district. A list of faces had filled up the screen, all alike in one way. All blond. I had made the connection only after I had heard a resounding crack to my right. Some of the paint had crumbled off the wall. My knuckles had started bleeding. All eyes had been on me, then, thought I knew my face didn’t show much. I had seen my reflection in the sunglasses of one of the cops who turned to face me. Blank, even smiling, slightly. Too bad such people didn’t usually punch walls.
“What’s wrong?”
That hadn’t even deserved an answer. By that time, I had kicked the door of the office outward and left. Maybe I was taking too much of an example from someone. The main door of the station received equal treatment to the first. But that was six days ago. I had been back home before my parents even left the station that day. Why was everything in walking distance? I hated it. The little monster that sat in my rib cage still gnawed, even now and in no hurry, on my heart. I hated it.
Two weeks. Maybe I should have started using my toes to count. Maybe I would have gained something of myself back, instead of looking blankly at two open palms. I had started giving Kemmet rides on my shoulders around the block. To work off the stress. I needed it. Finals had come and gone. School had ended. You missed ******** graduation, b*****d. Good job. You’re lucky we basically live on a college campus and things can be arranged. If you ever came back. I had hated you then. I hated you, still.
Two thirds of a month had passed. Twenty days. And I was still sitting here. Neither the heat nor the humidity of the room affected me, even though I registered them halfheartedly. Still that unsettling cold and gnawing on the inside. I should do something, watch TV, anything. Down the stairs, around the table, into the kitchen. A knock. I was almost to the living room. Sighing, I turned and retraced my steps, unlatching the door. It had better not be the neighbors and how they got the cat stuck on our roof again. Though it would definitely give me something to do.
I pulled the door open. You were the last thing I expected. And for you to show up on my doorstep, instead of, say, your own – what was I thinking? The heat of the evening finally sunk into my bones and the air enveloped me again. To think of it, melting as soon as I saw you, your face, what you had done to it. I didn’t care about that, no. Shoving my feet into shoes automatically, I grabbed your hand, dragging you off. Where I was heading or why, I didn’t know myself and I only realized where we were when we reached the school gate. Down the steps, so you could sit and I could still see you.
My lungs were full of air. I wanted to say how much I hated you, how I hated what you did. Hated, hated the fact that I forgave you everything as soon as I saw you, hated you so much it wasn’t hate anymore, hated the fact that I didn’t hate you at all. But that wasn’t what came out.
“What the hell..?”
“I don’t know.”
Maybe it was all that needed to be said. You were right. As usual. Even when you were wrong, you were somehow right. I hadn’t let go of your hand. You hadn’t let go of mine. The sky was clear yet I felt the droplets fall from my eyes like rain. This was new. Most likely awkward and embarrassing if I took a sober look at it. But I didn’t care. I wanted my twenty days back.
One tear dropped from my eye. Two hit the ground. Two dropped. Four hit. Oh. My free hand automatically smoothed the white hair in front of me. Who cared about awkward anymore? I guess I didn't. Or cliché, or any other words they might want to throw at me. Because I didn't care about it, I didn't care about them, all I cared about was... My hand tilted your head upwards and lips touched. Salty, as expected. The little ball of our hands was the warmest thing I've felt my whole life. Probably.
"Well, damn, welcome back then."
It was getting a bit dark and hard to see in the twilight. But I think I saw a smile.
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Kogitsune's Random Ramblings
Just as the title says. Random Stuff.
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