"So are you a badass or what?" I croak, the back of my eyes throbbing.
He jumps, as if he'd forgotten where he was.
"I'm so sorry! Pardon my French, I never normally swear."
"But you do normally slap people into next Wednesday?" I blurt out.
It's odd though, why am I even keeping a conversation with this guy?
I glance to my side, still laying where he left me as I notice the covers tucked around me.
"Did you… tuck me in?"
I say, a smirk hinting behind the pain.
I wipe a piece of sleep from my eye, catching it in my nails, rolling it around without any regard for manners.
Lucas brushes his bag from his feet, figuring his way back through the mess to the edge of the bed.
"I… I wanted to make sure your head was elevated and you wouldn't fall again."
I smile, no longer able to restrain it.
"You'll be a crackin' mum one day." I say, taunting him.
"You'd tucked me snug as a bug in a rug didn't ya?"
He dances around the corner of the bed, trying to avoid sitting on my feet before speaking, this soft, almost maternal tone.
"Yes I suppose, in some ways I did in fact tuck you in. Is that okay with you?"
I don't blink. Not because what he said captured my interest.
Not in the slightest.
But his hair.
His copper hair.
The rose gold hoop in his ear.
Everything about him fits so perfectly together.
It's sort of… satisfying to look at.
His earring was in his helix.
I only know this because I tried to give myself one a few years back, when I was on the streets, just to give myself a little more 'edge.'
But how could I earn the title of 'edgy hardass' if I cry and fail, merely trying to jab some skin.
"Would you like some water?" He says, adjusting his position once more.
I tug the sheet, pulling it tightly over my head, sinking behind them.
"Can't. Waters switched off at twenty five past."
His breath halters, pausing just long enough to process the words I just said.
"Nine?!
Sorry you're saying you have no water?…
At all?"
I scurry deeper into the dark of my bed.
"Null." I say, barely audible.
I don't hear anything else. Not a sound, not a step.
A few moments pass when something pinches the covers, yanking them from above.
I snarl at him, somewhat like a hormonal, prepubescent teen.
"I thought the covers were meant to protect you from demons?"
I say looking up at him,
arms folded.
"Funny. So I'm that bad?" Covering his mouth to prevent the inevitable laugh. He holds me in his sight, without pity or disgust.
I see him. But I can't accept something so simple.
I huff at him, attempting to unhand the covers from Lucas, when my leg meets that same, familiar pain.
The book.
I stop.
My expression fell into a resting state, but it couldn't be further from relaxed. It felt more like a surrender.
"It wasn't you I meant." I whisper.
Lucas crouches, pulling out a clean - ish blanket from below the bed, hugging the current one in his arms.
"I'm taking this one back to mine to clean. Do you wanna join?"
I can't shift my focus from the book. As much as I wish I could.
"No it's fine, I trust you to clean a blanket." I say, brushing him away with the dust.
"I meant do you wanna join the blanket getting cleaned. You need to spend a night getting taken care of. Please, come."
He holds out his hand in front of my face, cutting away my trance.
A distraction.
There was a sense of longing in his tone. It felt, damaged.
But the most distracting thing?
His hand.
His had wouldn't stop shaking.
I study his body, his posture, his gaze.
"Apparently the stinkiest guys are guys in suits."
I say before purposely going limp.
A human ragdoll.
Petty? Yes,
but seeing his face turn tomato and his lanky build straining to lift me,
is very much worth it.
"Whatever you say." He remarks, somewhat sarcastically while simultaneously leaning all his weight on his heals, trying to lift the meat from my arse.
"Never mind I'm going."
I rush myself up, hiding the book under the pillow as subtly as I could.
"Is it a long walk?" I call out, wafting my wrist behind me as a stroll through the door.
"Two doors down remember!"
Lucas halts. Caught between strides.
His eyes darting from the door to the pillow. The one that below it hid the book.
He slides the pillow to uncover it, lifting it from its place, smothering the book between his chest and the linen as he follows after Seazon's voice.
His flat smells of flowers. It's a sweet scent, maybe a little too sweet for my taste. I couldn't sit in it all day that's for sure.
I look around, nosying at all his trinkets on the sideboard.
I see why it smells this way. There's flowers everywhere I look.
However they aren't snuggled in bunches. They're singular, one flower per vase. Each different, colours, shapes, feels.
Weird taste for a weird guy I suppose.
I reach down to my feet, expecting my shoe to be ready to untie, forgetting I'd left in such a hurry that I'd not even remembered to wear any.
"Better hope he doesn't have a thing for feet." I say, scratching away a piece outside from little toe with the big one.
"Put that in the bin." Lucas demands, passing quietly beside me to turn on the kettle.
He turns his head as he flicks the power on.
"Tea?"
I tuck my hair behind my ear, my hand meeting an unexpected ponytail.
I stand, feeling it briefly before asking.
"What do you mean?"
He points his eyes down at my feet.
"The dog shit stuck between your toes."
My toes curl, noticing a squelch as I move.
"Dog shit?! It's dog shit, seriously?!." I screech,
my voice an octave higher than before.
Lucas fiddles with his earring, examining the state before reaching for a paper towel.
"Stop moving." He ushers, contorting his body to steady my ankle while simultaneously wiping away natures chocolate.
I settle my arms on his back, resting as motionless as possible. Viewing him from this angle I notice his roots. His hair is naturally a golden blonde colour.
So what, he dyes his hair, big deal.
But a colour like this? Surely he's never gotten any shit over it. Why the change? The cover up.
He smells almost the same as the flowers. That cool scent. The kind of smell that reminds you of a day in spring.
For a few long seconds, I really felt like I was back in them fields. Not the streets. Not homeless.
Just free.
Playing with my little sister, watching the amber river trickle by while time remained frozen.
Throwing sticks down it and chasing after them like kids.
I mean, we were just kids weren't we.
Why do we get taken from that so soon?
"All done." Lucas states, lifting the top of the bin, chucking the shit as far down as possible in an attempt to muffle the hot stench.
"Seazon?"
I stand. Motionless. Embraced by some unrecognisable contentment.
Now this trance.
This distraction.
This is one I never want to leave.