Obscura ~ Age 14

"Just lean on me."

"Fuck, I don't need you to hold my goddamn hand all the way back."

"I know it's not very cool, but you can't see, can you? It's just for a little while. Persevere!"

"Fuck."

"If it's really bad, just take your glasses off. That will help, won't it?"

"Hell no. I'm never taking these off."

"Don't be such a dumkass."

"It's the rule of cool, bro."

"I think you're being stupid."

"Stupid is lame. I'm fucking awesome." Dave gave a grunt as they stepped off the sidewalk, gritting his teeth as he stumbled a few steps.

"Sorry! I forgot to tell you there was a step."

"No shit."

"Aw, damn. It looks like my dad went out. That's okay, I think I know where everything is."

"Shit, Egbert, don't worry about it."

"Of course I'm going to worry! Your nose is turning purple already."

"It fucking is not."

"Geez, just relax a bit, Dave." John bit his lip. "No, actually, I should be sorry. You took that punch for me, didn't you? I'm really sorry. This is—"

"Egbert, I swear to Gog, if you fucking say that this is your fault one more fucking time, I will be the one to fucking punch you."

"Dave…"

"Shit, sorry, no, I didn't mean that at all. I didn't mean that even a little fucking bit I just...fuck."

"No, it's okay. Look, we're here. Can you stand?"

"Yeah, of course I can. That fuckass didn't break my legs, jegus."

"Okay, I opened the door. If you take a big step you might be able to—fuck, sorry Dave! Are you okay? I didn't realize you'd trip like that."

"This is so uncool."

"It's okay! I don't think anyone saw. Did you hurt your knee?"

"Fuck. No. I'm fine."

"Here, sit on the couch. I'll go get some ice."

Dave quickly grabbed John's sleeve. "No. Don't. Just call Bro. It's fine."

"What? Dave, he's like three hours away. It's cool, we can take care of it."

"No, John, just call him. It'll be fine."

"Dave, do you really want to leave that badly? I mean, I know this hasn't gotten off to a great start, but… Well, I guess I can understand. A cool guy like you probably got bored of—"

"No, shut up. Stop saying shit like that. I'm not—jegus, you don't understand. Fuck."

"I can't understand if you don't tell me," John laughed nervously. He quickly added, "Stop, you're pressing to hard. I was serious about getting glass in your eye, I'm really worried about that."
"It's fine, just—"

"I'm not calling Bro!" John gave a little gasp at the tone of frustration in his own voice. He hadn't meant to sound like that at all. "Shit, I'm sorry, Dave, I just… I don't understand this at all. I thought you wanted to come and hang out?"

"I…I do. This isn't about that at all. Fuck, I don't know how to make you understand. It's not about you at all."

"Are you breaking up with me?" John joked.

"What. What the hell are you talking about."

"I…it just sounded like the 'it's not you, it's me' thing and—never mind, I was being stupid. I'll stop."

"No, don't stop. Keep being stupid. Keep being Egbert. I just—I need to breathe for a minute. It's really hot in here."

"I can turn on the AC if you want."

"Yeah, that…can you do that? That'd be good."

"Yeah, not problem. I'll be right back."

Dave leaned back against the soft blue fabric of the couch, breathing heavily. He could feel his heart beating painfully in his chest. This was not cool. Cool guys aren't scared. Cool guys are suave. They don't give a shit. They don't care.

The problem was that Dave really did care. He cared what John thought.

"Dave, I turned it on. It'll take a little while for the house to cool down, though."
"Yeah, that's fine."

"I brought some ice, too."

"Shit, no, you didn't have to do that."

"Don't be a dumpass! You'll regret it tomorrow if you just leave it."

Dave felt the couch shift as John sat down beside him. "Really, Egbert, it's fine. Here, just give it to me and I'll do it." Dave groped around awkwardly in the air for a moment until John grabbed his arm and thrust the bag of ice into his hand. "Thanks, man." He held it to his face. Maybe this would work. Maybe John wouldn—

"Dave, take off your glasses. This is silly."

"A cool guy doesn't—"

"Doesn't take off his glasses, yeah, I know. I get it, Dave, you're cool. You don't have to prove it to me! I know already! No one else is home. Just take off the glasses for once."

Dave bit his lip. "Egbert, you just don't get it."

"Explain it to me! Please, Dave, I'm a little worried."

It took a lengthy inner battle to force out the words. "I…I can't take them off."

"Because you're cool. Jegus, Dave, ser—"

"No. I really fucking can't take them off."

"Why? Did you superglue them to your face?" John laughed shakily. "I did that once when I was trying to pull one of Sassacre's master pranks. The glitter wouldn't come off my hand for a month. It was less than a victory."

"No, Egbert. Jegus. They aren't fucking stuck to my face."

"Then what? I don't get it."

"Look, I just…I can't… Okay, just listen to me for a minute and don't…don't do anything. Just listen." He took a deep, wavering breath. "You can't see my eyes, okay. Don't ask why. Just…just accept that. Please."

"Dave, I don't know why you're so worried, but if it's like that then why don't you just close your eyes and take off your glasses? I promise I won't make you open them or anything."

Dave paused. He hadn't considered that. "Fuck. I'm an idiot."

John chuckled, then thought better of it. "Sorry. It's just weird to hear you say that. It's really unlike you. But you're not an idiot, Dave! I'm sure you're just really stressed right now, for whatever reason."

"Fuck."

"I'm going to take your glasses off now, okay? Close your eyes."

Dave scrunched up his eyes, ignoring the dull stinging sensation it caused around his cheeks and nose. John carefully pulled the shades—or rather, what was left of them—away and put them on the coffee table.

"Hehe."

"Fuck. Fuck. What. What do you see."

"Your eyebrows. I don't think I've seen them before. It's funny."

"Fuck, Egbert, of course I have eyebrows."

"I know that! It's not like I didn't think you had any! Here, hold this in place. I'll go get a towel to wrap the ice in, it'll make it easier to hold."

Dave lifted the bag of ice to his face again, dabbing it gingerly against the gradually darkening bruise. The plastic rubbed against his skin uncomfortably and he hoped that John would return with the towel soon. His hand was getting pretty damn cold, too.

"Here. Can you wrap it? I guess not. Give it to me and I'll do it." Dave felt the bag being pulled from his numb fingers.

"Thanks," said Dave.

John was still making nervous chuckling noises. "It's so weird seeing your eyebrows, I can kind of see the expressions you're making now. Well, except your face is sort of swollen. That makes it a bit harder."

"Fantastic," Dave says. "You now know I am not the perfect robot. I have fucking emotions."

"Shut up, man. I know you're not a machine. I'm just telling you, it is sooo weird to actually see your face. It almost makes me wonder what your eyes look like!" John then added quickly, "Just kidding!"

Dave's mouth tightened into a thin line. His arm was starting to feel weak from holding the bag up for so long. The throbbing in his face made him want to just go to sleep.

"Do you want a different towel? This one is starting to get sort of damp. I think the ice is melting." John took the bag back. "I think you're supposed to alternate between ice and no ice every few minutes, too. Take a break. I'll be right back."

Dave tried to make himself more comfortable, settling back into the couch. He breathed deeply. Slowly. It was okay, even though he didn't have glasses on. It would be fine. As long as he didn't open his eyes, it wouldn't even matter. Once the swelling went down, he could borrow a pair of shades from John and they could watch shitty movies like they were supposed to. They could forget this ever even happened. John would never know.

Later, Dave cursed himself for being such an idiot. It had been hard enough to keep his eyes closed like that normally. The flickering changes in light definition begged for him to open his eyes. He blinked way more than he ever would if they were open, eyes shut but eyelids twitching like rabid squirrels. He should have known.

The sudden cold against his face was an icy slap to his brain. He jumped in his seat, eyes suddenly wide open, every fibre of his being expecting danger. Except there was no danger, there was just John, looking just as surprised as he felt, holding that stupid bag of ice. John, who was now looking Dave right in the goddamn eye because he didn't think his friend would be so startled. Dave tried to shield his eyes with his hand but they both knew it was too late.

Instinct is a fucking bitch.