Rex had given up waiting by his door. It was futile; it was uncomfortable, boring, and brought his hopes up every time he heard a noise he assumed was a car.
He'd gone into his living room, empty with his dad already stocked up on yellow pills in his room. The room was hardly a sanctuary. Even with the television unplugged and hidden inside cabinets, the near kitchen still had its technological flaws, and their close presence made his head ache. Such obstacles were inevitable; as much as he may have wanted to dismantle the dreadful machine, he needed a fridge.
So he had succumbed to his ratty couch, smelling of mold and cigarettes. A pillow was clamped over his head, with such a force it brought pain, in order to block out the teases that still touched his mind.
Eventually, though, the sound of a car stopping was unmistakable.
Don't do it, he thought to himself. It's not them, don't kid yourself, they're not here yet, wait for a knock.
Even with his head buried in couch cushions, his amplified hearing sensed the knock on the door.
With more energy than he had in years, Rex threw himself off of the couch and hurled himself around the corner, skidding slightly from momentum, and ran into the hallway. The creaky wooden expanse seemed to stretch longer with each step, though he finally found his way to the door.
The sight of Melissa met him even before the cold Oklahoma air.
She threw herself across the threshold and into his arms. He managed to find just the right curves and crevices on her body to place his arms, and she on his, so that they seemed to merge into one seamless, aerodynamic being. He could feel the movement of her breathing and the beat of her heart beneath her same black dress. The familiarity of it made him chuckle, when everything else was so different; he noticed things others wouldn't, not necessarily because of their relationship, but because of Rex's unique abilities. It was probably only a millimeter, but she was taller. She was still thin, but her hips had widened some. And then, of course, the obvious; she had hair. Only a years' worth, but still it spilled over her shoulders, perfectly layered from growing out since it was only an inch long.
He wanted to pull back to look at her face, but he couldn't force himself. He could still see, however, the paleness of her skin and the darkness of her eyelashes. They tickled his shoulder as they batted up and down.
The intentionally amplified noise of someone stomping on the porch steps forced the two to part. Jonathan poked his head in through the door to the old home.
"Hey, Rex," he said, keeping his eyes still trained on the floor. "Uh, sorry, but I still don't know… I know I have to go back and get Jess, but then what? Where am I staying and all that?"
Melissa, standing a few feet away from Rex, answered hurriedly. "Uh, Dess probably wouldn't mind?"
Jonathan did not find this rejection insulting, merely irritating at the new need to invite himself into his friend's house. "Fine," he said, annoyed. "Just fine."
"I guess we'll see you tomorrow then," Melissa said, but the end of her sentence was cut off to him, for she had already closed the door. She turned around and leaned against it, swallowing at the dryness of her mouth. Her hands were sweating heavily, however, and he knees shook beneath her.