by CJ Lyons
“Okay.”
“Your handwriting… it’s really nice…” I said awkwardly, unsure of where the conversation should go after that weird stumble.
“Thank you. I would return a compliment of the same likeness, but I am unsure of what your writing looks like.”
“Well, it’s legible I guess.”
“You seem to speak well, and have a more extensive vocabulary than many of the students here. Because of this, I can infer you’re very intelligent, which usually translates itself in some way into your handwriting. Although, there is the principle that everything works on a cycle, and that once someone achieves mastery beyond the circumference of the circle in their practice, they will restart at the beginning level.”
As he spoke, he drew a circle on the table using a puddle of water from his water bottle.
“Consider this, we will examine the subject, beginning here.” He indicated the edge of the circle, and drew a little line out from it, “As the subject gains knowledge, their handwriting will become more sophisticated, to the point of mastery, which is then followed by a swift decline in legibility. That is, as soon as they make the full circle of handwriting skill, and seek to continue with writing, it is highly possible that they will cross the point of beginning, which I suppose can also be considered the end, and start again.”
He traced the circle round and round, chasing the water back into its circular pattern. “This principle can be applied to many aspects of learning and knowledge, and perhaps other parts of life. For example, if you consider the abilities of one Pablo Picasso, he completed the full cycle of artistic mastery, and then began his cycle again, creating works of art that could hardly be described as realistic, but still held the base presence of being wonderful works of art. Because of his experiences with realism and traditional painting techniques on his first journey through this cycle, he was able to begin anew with the more primitive style, that perhaps held more evocative imagery.” He looked at me and my bemused face, and bit his lip. “I apologise, I have never had the opportunity to share my ideas with someone before. I enjoy the experience.”
I smiled wholeheartedly at this, “Well, it certainly was a bit mind-boggling. I think you’re much more intelligent than me, so some of that went over my head.”
“What does that mean?”
“Hm?”
“It went over your head…? I don’t understand.”
“Oh, it means, ehh, I didn’t quite grasp all of your ideas, but I got some of it.”
“I believe I should learn to speak more casually in order to convey my meanings and ideas to people more succinctly.”
“No way, don’t do that!”
He tilted his head to the side, the universal signal for clarification.
“I mean, your formal speech is what makes you… you. If you talked like everyone else, it would be boring. So just stay the way you are, okay?”
“Certainly. I shall do so for you.”
Ahh, Wednesday, the day of never-ending carrots. How I loathe thee.
134 Days, 16 October, Thursday
So today, Noah was allowed to come over for dinner, and to stay the night. Don’t know how he managed to ask his father permission to do that, but here he is.
After school, we walked to my house in relative silence, enjoying the fall breeze and the sunshine. He almost glows in the sunshine, he’s so pale. I think maybe his black hair makes him look even more pale, it just sets off the white so well.
I did notice though, that he seemed almost happy today. He had his weird reserved smile hovering in place for the entire walk home, and took deep breaths in time with the gusts of wind.
Noticed how the thin fabric of his dress shirt hugged his body with each gust. He’s so thin, but… so… I can’t even put my finger on the right word. Attractive, alluring, …beautiful.
If I could write poetry, it’d be for him.
Can’t seem to write anything better than what appears in here though, but I’m always searching for the perfect words. Think it’s only a matter of time until those words are mine, but until then, I’ll have to make do with these simplistic ones.
When we got close to my house, along the small alleyway I walk through as a shortcut, I got an idea. It was impulsive, and sort of strange, but I followed through anyway.
Slipped my hand in his, holding it gently. His skin was soft and dry, just like I thought it might be. He returned the gesture, running his thumb along the back of my hand like it was the most natural thing in the world.
My heart soared at the contact, beating hard and loud within me. Was aware of every throbbing pulse, vibrating through me. Wondered if he noticed, I could feel it thrumming its beat between our hands.
Whoever designed the human form and decided hands were to be built the way they were must have matched certain people’s hands to fit perfectly. I know that it’s the sort of cliché thing people say when they hold someone’s hand and figure they’re in love, but it’s true. His hand filled every dip and curve of my own seamlessly, like they were two parts of a whole finally together.
Then my thoughts strayed a bit, extrapolating the idea of our hands matching. Wondered if our bodies would match too. Tried not to get too excited, figuring he might catch on or read my mind.
However, I did get a little flustered, and a hot blush was renewed on my face, as it often happened recently. He seemed to be blushing too, it showed up brighter on his paper white skin. Almost like someone had coloured his cheeks with a highlighter.
When we got to the back fence, I let go of his hand to open the gate, and almost immediately missed the contact.
There was a note on the table from Terra that said she would be home late, around midnight, and not to wait up since it was a school night. Little did she know that there wasn’t class tomorrow, so we’d be up late anyway.
Making supper with Noah was interesting too. He seems to enjoy vegetables more than the average person.
When I was chopping up the carrots, (aggh) etcetera for the salad, he watched me carefully, and then stared into the bowl when I was done.
“Do you like salad?” I asked, noticing his stares, “Help yourself.”
“I have permission?”
“Go for it, that’s how we cook around here. Sampling the ingredients while cooking is one of the best parts!”
He smiled, and selected a carrot stick from the salad, munching on it while I started seasoning the chicken.
“Do you cook often? You seem very skilled.”
“Well, I don’t think I’m much better than the average person, but I had to learn the basics at least. I think Terra might be cursed with bad cooking skills.”
Didn’t realise then, but in retrospect, I think it was that comment that made him seem a little less perky. Think the word ‘curse’ affects him strongly.
All throughout supper, we talked about Shakespeare, and how hardly anyone in the class seems to understand it, and then went to the living room for my simple dessert of instant chocolate pudding.
He ate the pudding slowly, licking the spoon thoroughly before taking another bite. Watched him more than the television, as he was much more entertaining. (We were watching a DVD of a popular supernatural type show that I’ve seen a zillion times anyway)
I’m so fascinated by his lips, they’re artistically perfect, I think. A thin cupid’s bow shape on the top, and then petal pink and full on the bottom. He really is genuinely attractive as a whole, I’m just really attracted to his lips.
And his eyes, oh my goddess, his eyes. That gorgeous blue, framed by long thin black eyelashes. His blind eye is a misty white, with the tiniest tinge of blue, highlighting the beautiful intensity of his other eye.
He licked another spoonful of pudding off his spoon, which nearly sent me over the edge with barely-restrained attraction. Made a weird noise in my throat that made him look round curiously.
In a weird feeble attempt to disguise my fascination, I took an overly large bite of pudding
that was nearly too much for me.
He smiled, and continued eating.
As the night went on, it got progressively colder, and I noticed him shivering before I even registered it was cold.
Grabbed Terra’s blanket from her chair and draped it over him, instinctively pulling him closer to warm him up.
“I’m sorry, I get cold very easily it seems.” He fidgeted, looking up at me, “May I- may I sit closer to you?”
“Sure!” I smiled, reorganizing the pillows on the back of the couch to make more room for the two of us. I shuffled so he lay beside me, and covered us both with the blanket. There was a quilt draped over the back of the couch that I dragged over us too.
Have never been so comfortable. Absolutely at peace. He was snuggled up next to me, with his back to my chest, warmth spilled in untethered waves, a synchronous tide ebbing and rushing as we breathed.
My suspicions were correct, it seems, we do fit together perfectly.
Like a puzzle with only two very specific pieces.
Eventually, his breath slowed and steadied, alerting me that he had fallen asleep. I was so happy, just holding him here with me under the blankets. It was a beautiful feeling. Pure comfort.
Hugged him closer, placing my lips on his head. He’s important to me, absolutely. The best of friends.
I started to nod off too, only having the presence of mind to shut off the television before falling asleep too.
Best sleep of my life so far.
133 Days, 17 October, Friday
Woke up to soft music, the nice singing that Terra listens to. I guess that means she’s home. Shifted under the blankets, and then realised he was still next to me. He had turned around in his sleep, and was facing me now.
That realization brought a lovely set of emotions into me. Bliss, comfort, some sort of hedonistic pleasure rolled up with heaven. Ahh, words.
I hugged him tighter and breathed out a sigh. Think he woke up at that point, and started to nuzzle into my chest.
Forgot how insanely ticklish I am, so that was almost like torture. Was so torn between telling him to stop from the weird discomfort, and to let him keep going because it was just so… adorable.
Eventually, he opened his eyes and stared at my t-shirt like he was trying to figure out if it was real or not. I lifted my arm and put my hand on his shoulder, prompting him to look up at me.
“It’s an elaborate dream.” He said, perfectly clearly.
“Or a sort-of normal reality.” I replied, yawning hugely.
“This does not seem like a plausible reality to me.”
Squeezed his shoulder more tightly. “It seems to be.”
He furrowed his brow, looking more confused than I had ever seen.
“How is this possible…? You should…”
“Hm?”
“It isn’t important…” he sat up, wincing a bit from pain or chill, I’m not really sure.
Sighed, then realised I really had to use the washroom, so I excused myself and hurried away.
When I returned, Terra was sitting on the coffee table and examining Noah’s scars and more recent injuries.
“You’re not healing as quickly as you should. Are you sure you disinfected these every day?”
“I followed your instructions directly, except for the night of the eighth, as I was unable to.”
“Oh, how come?”
“I believe I was unconscious.” He touched his eye, where the slight swell of the bruise still lingered.
Saw her expression change quickly at that, to one of concern with a bit of dismay. “You- how…?” She shook her head, gently placing her hands on his neck to turn it to see the residual injuries there. “Any problems moving your neck, does it hurt?”
“There has been a slight pain when I turn to the right.”
“Internally or just because of this?” She ran her fingers over the long sweeping scar that plunged into his collarbone.
“It seems to be internally, a sharp pain when I turn my head fully to the right.”
“Hmm, maybe you pulled a muscle, any idea how that might have happened?”
“I assume it was the sharp movement caused by the force of being struck on my left side.” he said in a dull monotone.
Wait, what? He’s completely up front with this? Does Terra know?
She closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath through her nose. “Would- would you like some medication?”
“I try to avoid using them, I feel very strange when using medication.”
“Okay, but I’d recommend them if the pain persists. And maybe you should see a doctor to-“
“No. I will not return to the hospital again. It’s too dangerous.”
Terra sighed, nodding. “Okay… I understand.” She ran her hand through her hair, gusting out a deep breath. “Can you take your shirt off so I can have a look at the rest of those cuts?”
He complied instantly, unbuttoning his shirt all the way and pulling it off his shoulders, leaving the fabric bunched around his elbows.
Knew he was skinny, but seeing him there on my sofa surrounded by the plush blankets and pillows made it even more shocking.
He was so thin and frail-looking, with bones jutting out from underneath multicoloured skin that set off weird contrasts and shadows around his body. The whiteness of his skin was only further illuminated by the shaft of sunlight splitting the room.
Swallowed as Terra examined each wound, knowing that those words must have kept echoing in her mind.
It’s nothing, it’s nothing, it’s nothing.
I stepped into the room, waving a hello to both of them and sitting back down on the sofa beside him, far enough away not to jostle him.
Terra continued her inspection, while Noah made sure to not look me in the eye.
“These look okay, you’ve been looking after them better than the others, huh?”
“Yes, they seemed to hurt more fiercely, so I saw fit to pay more attention to them.”
“How are they now?” She stroked the crest of one of the congealed cuts, making him wince slightly.
“I find I am in less pain when I am very warm. I have been doing my best to keep well-covered because of this.”
Terra smiled, “At least you know your home remedies.” She moved her hands up to either side of his face, “Now, don’t be a stranger, come here for regular checkups, okay?”
“I understand. I will visit you as often as I can.”
“Good.” She stood up, and looked at me, “Aerian, go get your big white sweater. You know, that one you never wear in the brown box in your closet.”
“You seem to know the contents of my room better than me. Creeepyyy.” I joked, standing up. Caught Noah’s eye, smiling at him. He smiled at me nervously, pulling his shirt back up.
When I returned with the sweater, Terra was in the kitchen, surveying the contents of the fridge.
“Oh, go give the sweater to Noah. We can’t let him get cold.” She said, waving me into the living room as she inspected a container of canned pears.
Went to the living room with the sweater in hand, unfolding it and realizing how big it actually was. It was way too big for even me, made of fluffy white yarn that was loosely knit, but still very warm.
“Here,” I handed him the sweater as he finished buttoning up his shirt. He pulled it over his head, the static making his hair fly up and wave about wildly.
I laughed, at the absurdity of the way his hair went mixed with his usual serious face.
The sleeves of the sweater dropped way past his hands, and it fit him like a tunic, almost down to his knees.
“I believe this is too large for me.” He murmured, rolling the sleeves back three times to reveal his hands. “But it is lovely. It has a nice scent.”
“Heh, it was just in with my old clothes.”
“You have a nice smell then.”
“Eh, I guess so.” I chuckled, scratching my head. I then realised my hair was unkempt and tangled, and immed
iately reached for the brush on the corner of the end table.
Tugged my hair out of the elastic, wrapping it around my hand as I started on brushing out the knots in my hair.
He watched me carefully for a few seconds, then blushed and looked away. I guess my hair must have looked nice, cause I was standing in the sunlight, and the light always makes little golden highlights come out of the orange. But I didn’t think it was nice enough to make him blush and look away. Geez, I’m a little embarrassed now.
Terra called for me from the kitchen, closing the fridge door with resignation. “I can’t cook, you’re going to have to. Let’s have pancakes or something.”
“Sure.” I finished tying my hair, flicking it behind me and waited for it to come to its usual resting place down my back.
It didn’t though, much to my surprise. Turned around, and Noah had caught it, and was inspecting it closely.
“It’s beautiful.” He said after a moment, “The colour is very intense.”
I fully blushed at that, no one has really complimented my hair. (Except Terra I guess)
“Th-thanks.”
He ran his fingers through my ponytail, experimentally twining it between his fingers. “Very beautiful, I enjoy this colour.”
I then realised he was making some kind of subtle reference to our very first conversation, when I asked him what his favourite colour was.
“Aha!” I said, “So your favourite colour is orange then!”
“I don’t think so.”
“Huh? What is it then?”
“I believe I like the colours of the sea.”
“Hmm, maybe you’re meant to be a sailor then?”
Terra interrupted, “Hey, can you continue your flirting in the kitchen while making pancakes? I’m hungry.”
We both blushed at that, and I replied in protest. “We’re not flirting!”
Now that retort seems kind of pointless and not very witty at all. Oh well. Can’t take back the past I guess.
Made apple pancakes, which Noah ate and seemed to enjoy with fascination.
“These are interesting. I have never experienced this flavour before.”
After he said that, I vowed to always experiment with flavour whenever he came over. Next week, it’ll be sweet and sour or maybe bitter with sweet.
