I swear to God, I'm gonna kill him.
For a moment, I just stare at him. I squint, and I take my glasses off and put 'em back on a couple times. I shift on my feet a little, bite my lip, suck on the blood, and finally he asks me, "What?" Except it's not really him asking it's just him being a brat.
The Kid hates it when I call him a brat. Or Kid, for that matter.
"Get your ass to bed," I tell him, and I really don't hear any authority in my voice at all, so I don't really know how Hanna drew the conclusion that I would be the right guy for the job of babysitting him.
Veser.
"You get your ass to bed, Connie." That's what he tells me, in this condescending little voice and—and oh good God, I hate kids. Hanna knows I hate kids. I can't fucking stand them and he isn't any better.
"Well, see, I would be sleeping, but I all can hear is you talking to your DS and fucking singing."
"You are," he whispers, in this sing-song voice. "Beautiful. Like a… Tree. Or a high-class prostitute."
Veser has taken refuge on my sofa. Several candy-wrappers and soda-cans are askew on the floor, and he has his iPod on his stomach, one ear-bud hanging out—and you know, why? Why is this is kid so infuriating?
"Go. To sleep."
"Can't," he says, brushing me off. He pushes his game to the side and sits up, hugging his knees, letting the blue-white light from the TV in front of him shine on his too-pale face and his too-green eyes. This is what saves his ass and he knows it. When he pulls this… look. That says, "Daddy never loved me. Don't hurt me, Mister Conrad, sir."
I should not let him walk over me like this. Should not should not should not—
"OK." I give up, I sit with him on the sofa, only after pushing his things to the ground, and probably getting my floor dirty (dirtier, I mean. He's made damn mess). I don't care, it's four in the morning and I don't care. "You can't sleep. Or you won't sleep."
"Can't sleep." Veser doesn't look at me for a bit. He just looks at the TV, the volume too low for him to really hear, and the screen too bright for him, I know it; he's just too damn stubborn.
I sigh, loudly, and fall against the back of the couch. God, I just want to sleep. And I can't sleep knowing he's here, not-sleeping. I'm such a fucking saint sometimes. "Why can't you sleep, Veser?"
He glares at me, probably because that didn't sound like a question, it sounded like I'm trying to explain to a little boy how exasperated I am. And that's what it feels like.
"Hell if I know," He mumbles, ruffling his own hair awkwardly. "I just… can't. Guess I have a hard time adjusting to new places."
"…It's been a week."
"Tch," he scoffs, finally looking at me. "OK."
Maybe I'm hallucinating from this whole lack of sleep thing, but I swear I can see a hint of a little toothy smirk. Maybe even a genuine smile. It's nice to see, it's not forced or fake, it's the smile of a… of a kid who still has some innocence in him.
My glasses are falling off my nose, but I just glare at him, and he keeps smiling at me. Finally, I break, and stand up. "You hungry?"
"Yeah!" He jumps, with this new, optimistic tone to his voice. Suddenly, he doesn't sound like such an asshole (guess he shouldn't be hanging around me too much. Or Worth). He grabs hold of the edge of my shirt as I walk away, and when I turn to look at him, he's got the most serious look on his face I've ever seen. And it's kind of misplaced with those huge green eyes, but like I said, it's four, I don't care.
"…Dude," he says, in all seriousness. "Make me a grilled cheese sandwich and I will love you."
I stare. And I think – think – I feel myself smile. "Well, with an offer like that."
OK, so, I don't really know where this came from. But have some implied Con/Ves, which I will be needing to write a lot more of. :D So uh yeah. Thanks for reading, reviews are cool.
