Believe It or Not
A/N: Due to some changes in postings thoughts will now be italized.
(Sharon's POV)
Well that was interesting. I glanced at the door that lead to the living room caught between amusement and bewilderment.
I'd just spent the last fifty minutes watching my brother and his houseguest eat everything in the fridge. Virgil even ate the raspberry jam- sans bread and sans spoon. Thinking about it the only description I could come up with was 'strange beyond fucking belief'.
Richie'd stumbled through the kitchen door clad in white t-shirt and blue boxers at three p.m. Now Richie never had much of a tan, he was one of the whitest of white boys I'd ever known, but his face was as pale as his shirt. The dark circles under his glasses stood out in a stark an unattractive contrast. The darn fool looked like he hadn't slept a wink. Which was ridiculous. I'd gone upstairs at eight. That meant he'd been sleeping for at least seven hours.
I sat there in the far corner of the kitchen table cradling my coffee cup too stunned to do more than watch as across the length of the kitchen Richie shuffled to the fridge like a zombie from Night of the Living Dead. He pulled out the milk and set it on the counter. Turning to a cabinet he pulled out a bowl. Then opening the one to the right he snagged the Coco Puffs. Spinning on his heel Richie slid open a drawer to grab a spoon. He did it all with his eyes closed.
I'd acknowledged earlier that Richie should be paying us rent - Hell, I hadn't given the fact that he was barely dressed a second thought because he was practically family, with the practically actually coming up for review if I was reading things right.- But I wasn't sure I could have done what Richie had without stubbing my toe or whacking my funny bone.
He gathered up his fixings, almost overloading his arms, and hobbled over to the table. By the time Virgil came through the swinging door Richie had devoured the entire box. I didn't say a word the whole time. Partly out of astonishment and partly because I wanted a chance to really look at Richie when he didn't have his guard up. A part of me had recognized that Richie was in no state to dissemble and took advantage of it. I wanted to see... well, I wanted to really see the boy my brother had been bringing to our house and our lives. I'd subconsciously shoved him in the peg hole of 'geeky friend of my brother's' for a long time. I needed to see if he was the right stuff for my brother. The fact that the boy truly seemed unaware of my presence just made it easier.
In those first few minutes I didn't learn much about the inner workings of Richie Foley. He mostly ate blindly as if by remote. The spoon going from his mouth back to the bowl without him once glancing down at it. I did notice his face was unusually grim. The Richie I've always seen is usually so up. Sometimes I'd think crossly 'the sun must shine out that boy's ass' when his good mood'd clash with my own bad one. He was in my bro's shadow, joyfully backing him up in everything. This morning though his eyes kind of squinty as if he was in pain and I could practically hear the wheels grinding in his head as he went over unpleasant thoughts. It sounded kind of painful.
When Virgil came down, that's when things got interestin. Well, more interestin since things had been rather atypical. He was the antithesis of the introverted Richie. My first thought on seeing the smug blissful look on his face was, He looks like he got laid. I had to cast a quick glance at Richie. But the deeply troubled look residing there told me there was no way that had happened. I wasn't sure if I was disappointed or relieved. Disappointment warred with relief because while it meant I had to figure out what I was going to do the idea of my little brother actually having sex was worthy of soaping my brain.
The languid look Virgil cast over the entire kitchen was way out of character. My brother's usually got enough energy running through him to jump start a car but his eyes just -slid- over everything, even me. I can't remember the last time we were in a room together and not fighting. It was like he'd become a Buddhist monk who'd decided that all conflict did was get you dirty. After his apathetic recon of kitchen he made his way to the counter with a disturbing sway to his movements and grabbed a bowl, a spoon, and the box of Corn Chex. He sat down opposite of Richie and took the milk for his own all the while smiling ecstatically.
Frowning I felt myself mentally grasping at the details of what I was seeing trying to knock the knowledge off the tip of my mind. Because I knew what was going on if I could just- I'd sat up like someone'd shocked me as I become conscious of what had been bugging me about his actions. Though Virgil's eyes were wide open and shiny, he was just as wasted as Richie. He was punch drunk! That shine wasn't awareness at all. It was the blissful blankness that happens-- when one's brain isn't firing on all thrusters. I knew then that I was falling back on a Star Trek reference but to say the least I was surprised. I'd never seen my brother like that before, not the Energizer Bunny of Dakota. When he was little he'd drive Mom nuts by not going to bed for days and I knew for sure that Virgil'd been home doing nothing all weekend. He'd been complaining about the lack of anything to do since Richie'd left on Friday.
That had brought my focus back to Richie. He was back early. Why? I stared at the teen. However, my telepathic powers were on the fritz and all I saw was an exhausted boy who didn't even seem to notice I was trying to burn a hole through his skull.
Yet- while Richie'd looked right through me he definitely saw my bro. He gaped at Virgil for several long moments as the thief used the milk on his Chex. Then with a blink, which somehow translated into a shake to clear his head, Richie dropped his spoon and rose. He went back to the fridge, took out the bread, salami, cheese, and lettuce, grabbed a plate from another cupboard. Then proceeded to create a sandwich that defied the laws of gravity. Things went on like this for quite a while. When they ran out of one thing they moved on to something else. A three quarters of a can of baked beans, a Tupperware container of last week's leftover pasta, half a pound of sliced roast beef, two pounds of American cheese, a gallon of milk, half a salami, a jar of dill pickles, five oranges, three apples, a bag of celery stalks, a head of lettuce, a bag of wheat buns, and a jar of raspberry jam were devoured like they were air.
This unbelievable display of human garbage disposalism did more than give me a sympathy stomachache. It gave me my first indications that Richie might be receptive to my brother's feelings.
The first time it happened I dismissed it as fatigue. The second time I began to wonder. By the third time I was sure. Richie leaned towards my bro. He'd start forward as if he was about to fall forward then jerk himself back. It was like he wanted to get closer but wouldn't let himself. The whole thing was pretty ridiculous since they were separated by about two and a half feet of wood, but it was also very cute.
Okay. Maybe I'm reading into it. But- I smirked at the empty kitchen, I know I'm not reading into the look I saw on Richie's face when Virgil licked the jam off his fingers. I'd never seen someone look quite so gob smacked in my life. He couldn't look away either. He just kept staring as my brother the oblivious licked and sucked each of his fingers free of the sticky jelly because they'd run out of clean spoons. That I'm sure I'm not reading into. All in all it looked pretty promising for Virgil, if I could get him to see what was right in front of his heart.
Tipping back my cup I swallowed the last dregs of my coffee. With a push and a squeal I moved back from the table. Rising I took my cup over to the sink. I shook my head at the pile of crumb-covered dishes and placed my cup in a slot between a couple bowls. I can't believe they ate all that. Heck, I can't believe it fit!
Unable to resist I found myself in front of the refrigerator. With a tug I had it open and I shook my head once more. There was the box of baking soda in the back, a bottle of grapefruit juice was on the door, on the middle shelf there was a carton of eggs that I assume were overlooked because they'd have to be cooked, and the cheese almond log that Aunt Matilda had sent up from Texas for Christmas, which had been unanimously declared "lethal" but we had never bothered to throw out, was still in the sandwich drawer. Other than that... Jeez, they really did eat everything in the fridge.
I shut the door frowning. This is- odd. I know teenagers can eat but not this much. There was at least three weeks worth of food in there. Then there's the tiredness. What is going on?
"Arggh." I ground out frustrated. My mood had quickly swung from tolerance and compassion to my more customary irritation and turmoil where Virgil was concerned. All my trepidation over the budding relationship I'd been holding my breath so not to damage was snowed under in a flash of red as well entrench buttons were pushed. This dosen't make any sense. Things aren't adding up. What is Virgil into? I want some answers, damn it. Filled with resolve I marched through the kitchen door into the living room only to stop dead at the sight before me.
This is becoming a pattern. I thought weakly.
"- believe it or not." Dean Cain's hushed voice rolled throughout the room.
It was the sole sound other than the soft paired breathing coming from the couch. Where, in a reverse yet an echo of this morning, Richie lay snuggled up against and under my brother. He was scrunched in as if to get ever part of his body as close as he could to Virgil. His legs were tucked under him at an acute angle ending with sock covered feet. Richie had an arm wrapped tightly around Virgil's waist and his face mashed up against Virgil's chest. The lines I'd noticed earlier in the kitchen were gone. He looked peaceful. He looked whole. Like somehow the person I'd seen in the kitchen was a shadow and now wrapped up in my brother's arms he was solid.
Virgil's legs were resting on the floor; his right arm was wrapped possessively around Richie's shoulders. His face had lost his manically cheerful smile and relaxed back into that tiny uplifting of his lips that was so sweet and full of love. It appeared that sleep had claimed them both while they were watching TV and they'd clumped together like puppies barely taking up the far end of the couch. Their chests rose and fell together. All temptation to interrogate my brother till he begged for mercy dissolved as my reverence reasserted itself. Remember girl, love is a minefield. Got to tread lightly before you blow everything up including yourself.
Stepping forward to turn off the television my toe hooked on something under the couch corner. The loud rattling noise of plastic hitting plastic overwhelmed Dean's commentary momentarily. Freezing I quickly glanced at the sleeping couple. Richie stirred blinking his eyes drowsily. "Mhmm." Holding my breath, feeling more apprehensive than I could rightly explain, I let it out in a low explosion of relief when he closed them again and snuggled in closer to my brother.
Puzzled at my own actions I went over and switched off the television with a push of a button. While I felt a need to promote the love I saw between my brother and Richie the way I'd panicked at the idea of waking them was out of proportion.
I turned back around to the source of my confusion. I admit that I don't understand my brother. It's as if there's some sort of wall around all the important parts of him and all I interact with is what he deems safe for public viewing, like all our fighting is to distract me and get me off balance. Sometimes, when he thinks no one's watching he looks so haunted. I can't help but wonder what puts that look on his face. Mom's death? I don't know. It hurts to know if I asked he wouldn't tell me. So I don't ask. If I don't ask I can pretend that he might.
With a weight on my heart I smile self-mockingly. I'm being mighty depressing. But maybe that's why. Why I feel I have to help these two. Because I do see that inner core of Virgil when I see them together. Because I understand him then and I selfishly want to keep on understanding him.
Giving the duo on the couch one long last look I sighed. I'm not sure how I'm going to do it yet but I guess I am going to play matchmaker. At least it dosen't look like it'll be too hard, once I get past the denial. Walking back to my room I hoped that those weren't famous last words.
