I sat at in the office that smelled of cleaner's and apples, my seat is in its usual spot by the window. I glace at the clock from the corner of my eye.
Three forty seven.
Three minutes. Three minutes before you come walking in, sit in the chair next to mine and ask if I feel like talking today. Three minutes till I stare at you then go back to watching out the window.
Three forty nine.
The Hot-dog vender is talking to the over weight cop as he buys his usual lunch. Large hot dog, mustard, ketchup, relish, and a bottled Pepsi.
Three fifty.
The door opens slowly as you walk in, the same old smile on your face. You're seat next to mine. I hear the zip of a zipper. I don't even have to look over to know what you're doing. You pull out the big pad of paper you always use. The one with all the doodles of people and things you make when you're bored, the one with all the random stickers all over the back that I put there when you left me alone with stickers and that note pad on my second day here.
"So, I hope you slept well. Did you have a good day at school?" You ask me with a smile. You already know the answer, so why ask?
No, I didn't sleep well, I didn't sleep at all.
I wouldn't know about school, I didn't go. Again.
I stare at you blankly, I know you hate it when I do. They all do, and eventually, it will turn to nothing but pure hate for me all together-it always dose.
"Your not going to talk to me are you?" You seem hurt, you really must be crazy.
I go back to looking at the window. The fat cop is waving goodbye to the hot-dog vender as he walks back to his cop car.
I sneak a look at the clock.
Two fifty eight.
"You know looking at the lock won't make you feel any better or make this go any faster." You say with out even looking up from your doodles.
I look back out the window, acting as if nothing had happened. Acting like you didn't know how bad I wanted out of here. Acting as if I was fine, because I am fine.
As long as I kept saying those three little words, I would be fine. I would be calm, I would be fine.
Four o'clock.
I stick my hands in my pocket, checking to see if I had enough change for a bottle of water from the vending down stairs. .25, .50, .75, 1.00, 1.20, 1.28, 1. 35. Just enough for a bottle of water. Recount and then count again.
I get up, not caring if I'll get in trouble for it. You snap out of your doodles at the sound of my sudden action.
"Satoshi?" You say, you voice soft and caring to people ears, but fake and filled with hate in mine. I start walking for the door. I barley get it open a inch before your hand comes down hard to shut it again.
"Let go." My voice barley above a whisper.
Sudden I'm in your arms, my face to your chest. Your sent filling my nose, Sweet yet spicy. It smells nothing like him, nothing at all like him. I close my eyes, trying to convince my body I would be much better off if I push you away. Finally my arms respond, pushing you away from me.
"No," You say tightening your grip around me. Your back hits the door with a dull ' 'thump'. Sliding down the length of the wood you pull me into your lap.
"No," you whisper again. "I'm never going to let you walk out of here again. Not when you're going back into the lions den."
And I don't know what came over me, but I being to cry into your chest. And it just felt so damn good to be held that I cling to your shirt as tightly as I can, because I know, sooner-or-later, I will have to let go, because you'll let go of me, and the only arms I'll be in are the one's that belong to the bastard knows as my father.
I peek out from under your shirt to look at the clock.
Four seventeen.
Wooo, no I won't be a bitch, there will be a second, although I do like this as a one-shot.
This is to my wonderful friend Feathery Fear! I love you Niie-chan! (Sorry your story took so long!)