A/N: Well well well, what have we here? An update?! IMPOSSIBLE!
Oh yeah, I took a nice long hiatus there. Sorry about that whole deal guys, honestly, I should've come back sooner. I'll try not to do that again, yeah?
Anyway, this chapter... is pretty chill. It could've been more exciting, I guess... but that is not the nature of my story. What this chapter has is some character development, for several characters, and honestly, there is no reason it took me this long to write. I just cant explain my ways, I suppose.
Hey, shoutout to the person who helped me write a good portion of this chapter! Her name is Sarah, and she is the one I am writing this whole shabang for! You'll see her character in the middle of this chapter... this chapter, which totalled at approximately 10,200 words. HOLY SHIT, THATS A LOT! Heheh, I hope that makes up for my hiatus, you guys! I told ya, I wont give up on this story, no sir. Got too much going into it.
Oh, and before I sign off- Watch out for the very last bit of this chapter. It marks the beginning of the true tale being told here.
See you guys next chapter, WOO!
Chapter 9: Bumblefuck
"So," I murmured after hearing Alfred's oddly told tale. "You live out in Bumblefuck, Egypt then?"
He stared at me, tired and unamused. "No...? What the hell does that even mean?"
I grinned humorously. "You're a native to the Atlanta area, aren't you?"
Ah, the smile on my face must've been contagious. I saw the corners of Alfred's lips turning too, but he resisted it like a bitten man in a zombie apocalypse. I'm not sure of why, but this only further amused me as I went on.
"It's a term coined by the people here, meaning the areas outside of Atlanta... Where you can drive for miles and miles, out in Bumblefuck, never to see another recognizable town. So you're a country boy, honkey tonkey and speakin' English like Jesus did?"
A snort exited his nose, a bit wet for my taste, might I mention. "You're one to talk, jerk off."
This time, I laughed, my late night mind elated at the comparison of myself and... Well. Early morning me is not nearly as amused by the comparison, and is avoiding it. Let's put it like that.
"I am, Alfredo, but that doesn't change the facts. You are a country boy, surely."
"Hardly. I mean, I wish... Sure, I lived out there, but I guess I wasn't really raised like that. Nah, my brother... Uh, yeah, can't say he was too southern..." He glanced away, as though ashamed to have been raised by a damned Yankee. Ha, serves him right (oh, I don't mean it... Quite the opposite, really).
"So that explains your lacking accent?" I leaned on my hand, keeping one eye open at a time to give the other a bit of rest.
"Uh... That's weird." Alfred had noticed my behavior, and he was giving me a peculiar look, in the sense that he didn't seem to mind despite his comment. He's just as peculiar, so I don't think he has any right to speak. "But yeah, I guess so." The grin that corrupted his face took me by surprise, and both of my eyes were open in an instant. "But listen to this:"
The voice that came out of that man's mouth, lingering in his vocal cords, air strung up from the depths of his lungs, left me recoiling as though I had shot a gun I hadn't been prepared to shoot. It was the richest country accent I had ever heard. I was somewhere between disgusted, horrified, and star struck. Why, this was the kind of magical ability rumored in cave scrolls and ancient myths! I can't even remember what he said, I was too focused on the manipulation of his voice, the slight twist of the tongue that triggers this phenomena.
I stared. "Never do that again."
What he did next was far, far worse than I could have ever imagined. I would've taken water boarding, complementary of the CIA, back in my soviet days on suspicions of espionage over this any day. Anything was better than this.
Pinching his nose ever so comically, Alfred belted out in a fully developed Wisconsin accent, "I like cheese nips!"
First of all, cheese nips are horrid off brand cheese-its...
Second of all, my ears haven't stopped bleeding. All I heard was foreign words and screeching nails across chalk boards, hundreds of them. All just dying to shred my inner ear canal, all succeeding...
Third of all, what a stupid thing to say. Does he know anything about Wisconsin? He could've at least said something typical, like "WISCONSIN!" Or even more horrifying, "I'm FROM Wisconsin!"
Oh goodness... I cringe just thinking about this. And it won't stop haunting me. It festers and froths at the back of my mind, I don't think I can get across to you how horrible this moment in time was.
So, instead of replying (I wanted to spare him my agony, because that's all I would've been able to get out), I grabbed my dear cat, my blanket, and hiked right out of the hostile area, into my own bed. Finally.
Judging by the stunned silence, I think that was the very best choice I could have made.
With cotton balls carefully placed to sop up the blood leaking from my ear canals, I buried my face in my pillow, and tried my best to sleep. Which wasn't hard to accomplish, actually.
That is, until, at precisely 1:14 Ante Meridian, when I flipped onto my side, and found none other than Alfred, wrapped in a blanket separate from my comforter (oh yes, because what a travesty it would be for my arm to touch his while we are sharing the same bed on his accord. His mind, it is something I cannot grasp).
My first thought was something akin to, "So that's what's wrong with my covers." And my second... Well, it was more of a spoken statement.
"Oh, you log."
I... I couldn't have make this up if I truly wanted to. Which I don't. Saying things like that make me feel... Silly. Saying- er, writing that word makes it worse.
Thankfully, I can say that Alfred has no inkling of those words that I so unfortunately uttered. In an ironic twist, this is because they are true. He might as well be a damned log as far as I can tell. Sleeping in the country will do that to you, I suppose.
So, terrified of my own threat come to reverse-life, I remained awake for a while. I don't know why, perhaps it was because I just wasn't used to sleeping next to anyone besides Siberia.
Or, perhaps...
I used to sleep next to Veña. Oh, how curious, our relationship. Actually, I would compare it to the Gilbert and Eliza's relations. Except... Ours had no sex or general happiness.
Veña forced me to sleep next to her, honestly. She said, "It's the right thing to do! Guests should be treated with the utmost hospitality!" I shot her a dumb look in response to her backwards statement, and naturally, she did something violent in retaliation. Though, after I got over myself concerning the issue of sleeping next to a woman voted most likely to be a necromancer in the witch school she attended, I found that it wasn't that bad. After all, when you shove your body so close to the edge that you feel as though you are deftly defying gravity, you forget the other person is there at all. Not to mention her bed is ridiculously comfortable.
She once told me the story on how she got it... It was a trade, she said, for some incredibly potent Mexican heroin or something. She was drunk (and... So was I) when she told me the story, so I can't exactly give more detail. It sounded far more impressive drunk than it did any other time, but that doesn't matter. For this mattress, I would've given more.
Ah, but I ramble. Yes, so Veña made me sleep on the extraordinary queen size bed (which I don't know how she got in here in the first place (I'm supposing that heroin helped the process in some way)) right next to her, and it was only commonplace for something to go wrong.
There are two reasons why I do not like sleeping next to people anymore (yes, I was bluffing Alfred. Had he tried taking my bed before I was in it, he would've succeeded stupendously):
The lesser reason: I woke up next to a very, very dead Veña, staring at me through my pupils and deep into the crevices of my soul. As soon as I woke up, I passed right back out, slipping from my edge and onto the floor. There is no getting over waking up next to a dead person, and never again will I stare into dead eyes. It's appalling, lurid, repulsive...
Now for reason number two. A reason that has always haunted me, after an incident when I was younger. Something from which I doubt anyone could ever hope to recover. The phrase, "To sleep with someone."
Just writing it down has my fingers tearing at my eyes; it is so revolting to read.
I had gone over to a friend's house, a very dear, close friend... Though her parents had little money, I still thought that she was the richest person to ever live. She had such a full culture, a brilliant mind! More than I could wish for. Of course, she had only her bed. And, being young, so graciously naive, we had never heard that dreaded phrase. We didn't understand its meaning. Oh, I wish it had stayed like that.
So, succeeding the stay at her place, the sharing of her bed, I went around and proudly declared that we had slept together. Innocent enough for a young child, as many presumed. But I remember the flash in their eyes, that split second of horror as they saw the euphemism in full force.
Of course, my father pulled me to the side after embarrassing our family publicly one too many times, and explained to me the true meaning of what I was saying. How the literal meaning of those words no longer exists in any sane mind.
My world fell apart for a solid month. My poor, ten year old mind couldn't conceive the atrocity I had committed, what I had implied...! To so many! GAH!
After explaining to my friend why I had fallen into a sudden depression, she grew red around the cheeks, but said it was okay. She was just happy that I didn't keep on saying it like it was funny, I guess. (I imagine Gilbert would say something like, "Not a fuckboy in the making, eh? Surprising." Fuck him).
To draw a conclusion, I am desperately terrified of ever making the mistake of saying that I slept with someone ever again. Because it had never meant what it should.
It is a horrible, disgraceful truth. One I must live with.
Trapped next to someone who could drag this truth upon me again, I believe I had a few miniature panic attacks. I don't handle stress like this well. And therefore, I couldn't go back top sleep for a while. So, instead, I busied myself by trying to decipher all I could with a human's limited 'night vision'. My pupils did their job well, and I was actually able to make out a lot.
The old posters and pictures on the wall, the fake grain on the door, the pattern of the roof.
On the very corners of Alfred's face, I could see where his hair would normally cover the faint scars of acne... Perhaps he was younger than he claimed? I hoped not. That notion just gives off an unpleasant feel.
Imagined on the bridge of his nose were those glasses in the Texas case. I wondered if he actually needed them, or if they were part of that odd fashion trend where people wore fake glasses... Though I thought only middle school whores did that.
And finally, I noticed something that may have just been my imagination. A few bundles of his hair... The tips were far darker than the rest. Like I said, it may have been my eyes tricking me, but I swear, it looked like the remnants of ancient dyes trapped in his follicles. How I didn't notice this in the daylight is beyond me, but perhaps I hadn't ever been close enough to tell.
Another thought occurred to me as I studied the oddity, the stories he had told me. I couldn't help but get the sense that Alfred had been raised by a megalomaniac, a killer, some crazy person. Most certainly not a brother as he called him. This person who's name has not been said... Either I am living and sleeping next to (see? That phrase will not plague me!) a bred psycho, or Alfred is pulling my leg something fierce. But it doesn't add up; Alfred seems sensible enough, and I just can't imagine him running around with a knife without him ending up stabbing himself by accident.
Regardless of all this, whatever truth or fiction Alfred is telling me, it is entertaining enough for me to humor him. Yes, I won't send him off in a paddy wagon... Yet. I must know more about this... Brother of his.
Surely it is a story worth hearing. Otherwise, I'll have wasted time that would've been drowned, and that is most unfortunate.
Upon summing up my midnight rambling, I turned over, scooted away from the edge, and did my best to sleep again.
The sun rose, as did I. Slipping from my spot with the ease of a fish off a deck, I carefully splashed down onto the floor, landing sorely on my side. Gingerly mending my position, I got onto my knees, and peered over the bed. Alfred was still asleep, in that hangover sort of sleep, that you might never wake up from. It seemed as though this would be one of his sleeping in days. I still didn't understand the pattern he had, some days sleeping forever, others, hardly sleeping at all.
Deciding not to take my chances, I scooted away, using my knees as replacement feet, until I reached the door. Siberia was waiting for me, wondering what was taking so long. She clawed at the exit, impatient for me to open it. When I finally did, she shoved out and resumed her normal, laid back manner.
I scooted right on out, careful to shut the door without a sound. After assuring myself that I hadn't woken anyone up, I eased my knees, and got into my rightful standing position.
I suppose that I don't like waking people up. After I was decked in the face by Veña for just that reason, I am simply wary of it.
First things first: bitter coffee, just how Veña would've liked it. I have to honor her spirit, after all, to be haunted by that woman might just turn me into a damned ghost as well. (I also wrote up the above chapter, but that's a bit fourth wall breaking, is it not?)
Next... Clothes. My running gear, slim fit and comfortable. Yes, I run every other day, as I like to keep in shape. Now, you might be thinking: "Didn't you call you call yourself fat earlier?" Yes. Well, sort of... Not really. Not in that context, at least. Fat, as in, I have extra body weight that isn't necessarily necessary. That doesn't mean I don't want it there... I think it is wise to have a supply of energy on hand in case I have to skip eating for a little while. Don't hassle me about it, I know exactly what I'm doing.
Just as I swung open the door, I was met with misfortune. Gilbert.
He seemed rather surprised that the door had opened without him acting upon it, but nonetheless, it was open.
"What?" I asked without giving him a chance to speak.
Gilbert took a moment to recuperate from the horrifying event he had just experienced, oh the humanity, before saying, "Eliza's been up my ass, as usual-"
"Would you want her anywhere else?" I cut him off, smirking, and he scowled. His look shut me up, and he continued.
"As I was saying, she's been nagging me, it's about Alfred. She said she only saw him out of the room once. I mean, I don't care what the kid does, but she's always worried about everyone, you know... Is he okay?"
The look in Gilbert's eyes clearly contradict iced what he had said: he was most certainly worried, in one way or another. Understandable, he wasn't a heartless man, probably had more heart than I did, but I find that hardly valuable. Then again, I find Gilbert less than valuable.
Yes, but this street hardened man was worried about some young runaway, and for what? Being an introvert? ... Alfred didn't seem like an introvert, he is rather loud and is brimming with childish energy, but still, who was I to challenge his state of being?
Gilbert shook his head, seeing that I didn't reply to his inquiry. "A-anyway, Eliza told me to get my ass up today and take you two out. Or at least, take Alfred out. She just suggested that you came along, God only knows why. But it's your choice."
A foggy yawn from behind me distracted me from asking Gilbert who the hell he thought he was asking me to just get into a car with him and go somewhere, and I looked back behind me. A few feet away stood Alfred, half hunched over, rubbing his left eye to dislodge the sleep. "What's all the hub-bub?" He mumbled through a yawn, stretching his arms out, gently battering the walls as he did so.
"Gilbert wants to throw us in his trunk and ditch us in the woods!" I announced, and Alfred straightened up, clearly taken aback by this news.
"S-seriously?" He looked past me, meeting Gilbert's disgruntled face in sheer shock. It must've been too early for his common sense to work.
"No, Alfred," Gilbert huffed (I think it's hilarious how mad I can make him). "Eliza is just worried, she wants you out of the house more, I guess. So she made me get up and come down here to wake you up and take you for a ride."
"Oh." Alfred stared at me for a moment, then turned back to his friend. "That... That makes more sense. Sure, I guess... If it'll make her happy. I'd hate to see her mad."
Gilbert shuddered. "You would, I assure you... And what about you, commie?" He asked me, and I stuck up a brow.
"If it'll make Eliza happy, I suppose." I finally gave way, and Alfred grinned. He was suddenly very much awake.
"Aw sweet!" He cheered. "Lemme go get changed." He dashed back in, and under two minutes flat, he has rejoined us, rip roaring and ready to go.
Gilbert started to head off towards his car, the spring breeze buffeting his odd hair. "Come on then! We're burning daylight!"
Alfred followed like a giddy colt, and I, not so willingly. I did follow, however. After Alfred yelled shotgun right in my face, I tossed myself into the backseat of the car, becoming completely aware of how awkward my long legs could be in tight situations.
"So..." I fiddled with a bit of thread from my shirt. "Where're we going, then, Mr. Navigator?"
Gilbert leaned back over the median in the car, grinning at me in a way I hate the most, how unsettling of a look it was. "Youll see."
And off we went, regrets and misfortune in tow.
"Why the shit are we at a book store?"
"Because the Nazi apparently DOES have feelings, Alfredo."
I watched the silver sedan speed off, stranding Alfred and I at a not so unfamiliar place. I was actually quite pleased with how things had turned out: Gilbert and I had argued over exactly where we were going, Alfred sat in shotgun quietly, sinking down and trying to figure out why the two of us sounded like an elderly couple who should've gotten a divorce twenty years back, and then he finally spoke up and broke our argument to pieces. He made some comment to Gilbert, which I did catch, and Gilbert just busted out laughing. He shot something back at Alfred, and the young man started snickering too. I merely sat back and gazed out the window, glad to be saving my breath for more important things. (Like what, Ivan? Don't be so stuck up, me!)
And then, when I least expected it, we jerks to a halt, swerving into a parking lot. Gilbert kicked us out, wished us the best, and took off.
And so, Alfred looked upon the fated building before us, and demanded why were there.
"This is one of my favorite places to go, Alfred! It's so serene inside..."
The look he was giving me was not so assuring that he understood the benefits of this place. "Hey, he could've dropped us off at a gay bar. And no one wants that, hm?" I began to stride forwards, actually excited to go in.
"What are you so peppy for?" He caught up to me quick, a sour expression staining his otherwise perfectly fine face.
"Why, Alfred, this is my second home. It's wonderful here! I can drink all the spiked coffee I want here, so long as no one finds out." Pushing open the door, I added in a hushed voice, "Not to mention, I love talking to a few people here. Especially Sarah, she's kind and quiet and easy to talk to. Would you be so kind as to not annoy or startle her, Alfred?"
Alfred gave me an incredulous look. "And why the hell would I do that anyway?" He asked, stepping past me.
I grinned, shutting the door softly behind us. "You have your ways." Alfred simply walked off from me, acting mad, but I could a sly smile peeking.
Naturally, I went around and gathered a few books, picking up some from a few known authors, and a couple from some unknown authors. I loved skimming through them, just observing the style and diction of individual people... It helped me as an author.
Alfred was off, looking at some smaller novels, a few comics as well I presumed. And just as I was about to sit down, I spotted a familiar face. Softly smiling, I waved. "Oh, hello, Sarah!"
Sarah was most certainly kind hearted, a soft person, I suppose one could say. She didn't seem to have a mean bone in her body, though I hadn't ever seen her really upset. No, I only ever talked to her here, at this small, locally run book store, nestled in the artsy section of Atlanta. Anyhow, she was a delight to chat with, to vent to, and I loved trying to help her out occasionally. It made me a bit sad to hear some of the things she faced, but regardless, I admired her strength in getting past them.
It was no surprise to me that she was here, as I gingerly approached her, tipping an imaginary hat. She often came down to this very store in the early morning, to relax and whatnot.
"Hello, Ivan, " she responded to my greeting softly, a delicately small smile on her lips. She wasn't too surprised to see me here, either, as it seemed that every time she came, I was here. Or at least that was what she had told me during one of our chats. It was almost like a twist a fate each time we met, but that was to believe some higher being was making this happen, and Sarah had said she doubted that. She shuffled the small stack of books in her hands as she looked up at me, having to crane her neck a bit to meet my eyes. She a measly 5'0" next to me, poor thing. "I haven't seen you in some time, how have you been?" She asked politely, with a small tilt of her head, smile still in place.
"Oh, very nice, thank you for asking." I gestured for her to set all of her books down, afterall, thick stacks of paper could be quite cumbersome in their own surprising way. "And how've you been, dear?"
She shrugged her shoulders as she set her books down onto the table we were standing next to. "I've been alright. Not much has changed since we last saw each other." She sat herself down, gesturing for me to do the same before speaking again. "Work is stressful as usual and family I'd doing fine."
I pulled a chair out from under the designated table, accidentally bringing it a little too far out. Deciding that I could live with it, I sat down, perhaps a few inches further away than I should've been. A bit awkward, but I ignored it and listened to my friend instead of worry about myself, and the problem I could've easily fixed.
"Ah, well, it's good to hear that nothing new has come up, and your perseverance is admirable. It really is good to be talking again, yes?"
I couldn't help but to be so kind, and while flattery isn't usually what I would include in my normal dialogue, Sarah, along with a few others, were exceptions. I suppose that the only explanation I can provide would be that I enjoy seeing her smile.
"As for me," I went on, figuring that she would be rather pleased if I got right into a more curious topic. "Gilbert has given me a new roommate." What a weird thing to say. Lovely.
"Oh man," she couldn't help but laugh softly at the notion, knowing that I had preferred living alone, or at least she once mentioned that I gave off such an impression. I wasn't sure if my given impression was right or wrong, but I choose to believe her impression of me. "How is that going? Are they driving you crazy? Or are you enjoying their company?" She leaned back in her seat as she focused on me, her hands sitting idly in her lap.
I considered this for a moment, captured by the thought. Did I find solace in Alfred's company...? Or did he annoy me to no end...? After my moment of thought, I shrugged, meeting Sarah's eyes.
"I am not sure, honestly. He is definitely better than Veña, because he does not batter me with household objects, and he appreciates my tacos rather than cursing at me for slight mistakes. Also, he is quite interesting. For example: I think he is scared of socks. I threw a pair at him once, and he screamed." Craning my neck, I glanced around. I spotted Alfred rather quickly, he appeared to be deeply examining some novella a few rows away. "There he is," I pointed his way, looking back to Sarah. "His name is Alfred. Looks a little bit like a noodle, if you ask me."
She had nodded along when I went to explain how he had was dealing with Alfred, so when I pointed him out, she leaned slightly to the side of her seat so she would be able to look at him. She must've thought he had a nice face, because she pouted slightly when I called him a noodle. "Ivan, that's not very nice." She scolded me. Then, she looked back at Alfred for a brief moment before looking towards me, a smile bubbling on her lips as a giggle began to escape her. "I guess he kind of does look like a noodle from this distance."
"See?" I exclaimed in a soft manner. "I told you he does..." I was more than pleased that Sarah had agreed with me, but just as I was about to continue and explain the nickname that Gilbert had given to Alfred, the young man caught my attention. He was doing something I hadn't quite expected.
Alfred was buying the small book he had spent so long looking through.
With a puzzled look on my face, I turned back to Sarah. "I... I honestly didn't think he had any money on him. It is odd to say, but I suppose I just didn't figure he really had any money of his own." Leaning in a bit, I added, "I thought Gilbert had been giving him his rent portion, he doesn't have a job that I know of." Looking back, I now realize that sounded like some paranoid conspiracy theorist.
Sarah mulled what I said for a moment before offering her thoughts. "Well, maybe he has money set aside? I know when ever I get paid, I take some of it and put it into my savings account in case I ever need it. Like for emergencies. He most likely has money that he doesn't use for rent, because it's not enough to pay for it." Sarah shrugged her shoulders, a single finger tapping at her chin as she spoke, her blue eyes looking over at Alfred in question.
I scratched at my cheek, and nodded. "Yes, that makes more sense. I should be more careful, jumping to conclusions. Bad habit." As I looked back at Alfred, I realized that he was squinting his eyes at my friend and I, as though he was try in to decipher our conversation from across the store. Bag in hand, he replaced his look with a small smile, and approached with a rapid pace. I took a moment to watch, and observe his stride (I am still trying to figure out how he moves so quietly), before addressing Sarah once more. "He's spotted us, it seems." I chuckled to myself; it sounded like we were discussing an opposing force in a war.
She laughed softly. "So it would seem." She sat up straighter in her seat as she watched the blonde approach at a rapid pace. "He's fast, isn't he?"
Alfred slowed a bit, before coming to a complete stop just before our small table. He scrutinized both of us, as would a thief upon prized jewels. "Did you two know that's there's not any macaroni here?" He muttered, suspecting us to have duped him, but I decided to ignore his suspicion and get on with introductions.
"This," I said, laying my hand towards the woman across from me. "Is Sarah. And Sarah, this is Alfred."
Alfred grinned wide, his earnest attitude a bit distressing. I hadn't ever seen him so chipper. "Hello, m'am, what's up?" he greeted, sticking his hand out for a shake.
Sarah took his slightly larger hand in her smaller one, giving him a smile. "Hello, Alfred. I'm just talking to my friend Ivan here, that's all. And what are you up to?" She was quite polite, as was her way with anybody she didn't know. Well, she was polite with everybody, but she always especially kind when she first met someone as to not give reason for them to be rude. "I love macaroni as well, but sadly they don't sell any food here except for pastries."
Alfred frowned. "They don't? Hmm, I wonder when they'll see the error in their ways..." Shaking his head and chuckling to himself, he went on to answer her question. "As for what I'm doing? Well, originally, I was bitching to this other guy because I didn't really want to be here, but I think he was deaf or something because he just sort of walked off. Anyway, he left this book behind." Alfred rooted through his bag, pulling out a rather pretty looking book. "It's Edgar Allen Poe's poems and stuff! I hear that they were cool, so naturally I took advantage of this coincidence. And look at the thing!" He gestured to the front, then flipped the book over. A sprawling shiny Raven, which clashed with the otherwise matte cover of the book, stretched from the front, across the bind, then to the back. "It's wicked looking!"
I shook my head, amused at the exchange. "You are too easy to please, Alfred."
"Not true!" He argued. "I'm not pleased that there isn't any macaroni, so ha!"
Sarah watched silently as Alfred talked, she looked surprised that his lips didn't fly off each time they opened. But, she still nodded along with his story and she did seem to be pleased the book he showed her. "I love his poems. I memorized his poem 'Annabelle Lee' for a school project a few years ago." She gently held out her hands, silently asking if she could hold his book.
Observing Sarah's soft spoken actions, I wondered exactly what she was going to do once she got the book.
Alfred didn't think twice, gladly placing the book in my friend's out stretched hands without hesitation.
"I've, er, never really done any projects on them, I guess... Never really seen 'em before." He chuckled in an almost sheepish way, almost embarrassed to admit it.
He then turned his face towards me, an interesting look in his eyes. I was now more concerned about what he was up to, with his lack of Edgar Allen Poe knowledge, and love for macaroni and cheese.
And though odd gaze passed, my arisen suspicion did not.
Sarah flipped through the crisp pages of the book, hard and stiff from never being used. She brightened as though she recognized a few of the poems as she flipped the pages, before stopping on the page that held the poem 'Annabelle Lee'. Her fingers brushed over the familiar lines, it coming back to her with ease. She mumbled a few of the lines to herself before looking up, finding Alfred and I looking at her, causing her face to flush up with embarrassment. She closed the book gently before handing it back to Alfred, face a light pink as she cleared her throat. "I-I just wanted to look through the it. Thank you for letting me"
"Nah, that's not a problem!" Alfred reassured her, taking the book. "I was taught how to share when I was five!" He then glanced back at me, his odd gaze having returned.
"Uh... Ivan?" He poked my shoulder, as if saying my name wasn't enough.
"Yes?" I responded, giving him a sideways glance.
"How much longer are we gonna be here?" His question made it clear what answer he wanted in return.
"It's too early to run home right now-"
"We have to run?!"
"Yes, Alfred. As I was saying, it's too early, and I'm also wanting to continue talking to Sarah. It's kind of rude to just walk out on someone, isn't it?" I raised my head in an innocent way, and Alfred scowled.
"First of all, the too early thing sounds like bullshit, second of all, I wasn't just gonna ditch her! I just..." He looked off. "My legs are tired. I wanna sit."
I gestured to another table, which had two chairs lie the rest of the tables in the small book store. "Get a chair, then."
Alfred gave me a dumbfounded look. "I can't just... Take one of those chairs! Because then that table will only have one seat, and someone else will have to take another chair and so on and so on...! Don't you see?"
I just... Stared. "No. I don't."
Alfred rolled his eyes. "Okay, whatever. Lemme have your chair."
"But this is my chair. I sat here first." I argued, though with a smile. Alfred's tendency to take my things amused me for some reason.
The thief didn't let up. "Seriously, I wanna sit down. And you've been sitting for a long time. So shoo."
I shook my head. "No, I'm afraid that I will not be moving."
Alfred looked at Sarah, shaking his head in a joking way. "Clearly, he didn't learn to share."
"I did learn to share," I corrected. "I just think you should get over your chair anxiety."
"I'll sit on you." Alfred threatened. I grew a bit tense, because I knew that his threats were rarely empty.
"Please, Alfred, just go and get another chair."
"Nope. Last chance."
"Alfred, I swear, if you sit on me-" And then he sat on me. It turns out the awkward space I didn't correct prior was just enough room for him to make his move. I floundered and struggled beneath him, hissing, "You are like lead!"
He snickered, shooting back, "You callin' me fat?"
"I'm calling you dense!" I shoved against his back, throwing him off. Frowning, I stood, and gave him full rights to the chair. With a smug grin, he pranced right past me, taking my seat like a king would take his throne.
I turned and grabbed another chair, pulling it perpendicular tothe other chairs. Sitting in it, I flashed Alfred a dirty look, before turning back to Sarah. "Yes. I've decided now, he does irritate me."
Sarah gave a breathy laugh at the whole situation, then gestured with a finger for me to lean forward. I huffed, giving Alfred another dirty glare, before leaning forth and letting her whisper whatever she had to say. "While cute in its on way, Alfred comes off as being a total ass," she giggled then pulled back to sit up in her seat, placing a hand over her mouth as she contoured to laugh, her face flushing up again with color. I leaned back too, amused by her behavior. After a moment, she finally put her hand down back onto the table, smile still in place. "If you two need to leave then it's fine, Ivan. We can always talk another time."
"But are you sure, Sarah? Honestly, I have nothing else to do, and I haven't seen you for a while." A while, being just a few days, maybe a week. I hadn't kept count. Still, visiting with friends was quite the celebrated event in my slightly depressing household.
Alfred scrunched down in his seat, his attitude changing within a moment. "Er, I didn't mean to.. Make it seem like I really... Wanted to go." He tried to explain, but his small words hardly reversed his original intention.
"Then what is it?"
Alfred shrugged, looking away. "I guess I just don't want to be out. Sorry, Sarah."
Looking him up and down, I said, "There is something wrong with you."
"Gee, thanks." Alfred huffed.
"No, that's not what I meant. I meant your attitude changed suddenly, indicating that something is wrong."
"Oh. What?" He reverted back to his normal state, and I nodded. "Good."
"Yes, I'm sure." My friend smiled softly, nodding her head. "I'm sure it won't be long before our next meeting." She stood up from her seat grabbing her small pile of books that she planned on purchasing. "It was nice meeting you Alfred. And Ivan, it's always a pleasure talking to you." With that, she placed a complementary goodbye kiss on my the top of my head, and then she twirled around, going to buy her books and then leave.
Alfred watched her go, a gleam of confusing marring his normally clear eyes. "She's the one who's gonna walk out?" He asked, and he sounded rather stricken. It occurred to me that he probably felt at fault for this.
"Do not worry, Alfred. Sarah has a lot on her mind, and she tends to come and go abruptly. It isn't a bad thing, it's just who she is." I attempted to console him, but he just shot an even odder look my way.
"So she doesn't care?"
"Alfred! That is not what I said!" I scolded him, and he just huffed. "What, then?"
Sighing, I stood, taking my stolen chair and placing it back to where it belonged. "As I said, Alfred. She comes and she goes as she pleases. It's nothing wrong with us, nothing wrong with her. It's just how it is. Now come on," I began to move towards the exit, waving for him to follow. "We should go back. And don't forget your book."
"I'm not gonna forget it!" He said, glancing haphazardly at the book on the table. He had clearly forgotten it.
I stepped foot into the bright sunlight, and Alfred followed close behind. "You ready to run?" I asked with a smirk, and he groaned rather loudly.
It was only around noon by the time we got back. I felt incredible, as I usually did after my runs. I was hot and my skin was sticky with sweat, but my muscles felt free, energized and oxygenized. Alfred, surprisingly enough, kept up with me the whole way through. He was a bit short of breath, but he was not dragging his feet or wheezing. I felt a bit proud of him, as I had observed his great density first hand earlier. He certainly wasn't fat, nor was he very skinny, but he weighed far more than he appeared to, which left me in a bit of a confused state. As I had said, he was like a block of lead! I had to assume, after seeing him do well on the run (which was actually fairly far. I'll be honest, it was not easy, but that's what I had wanted anyhow) that he was actually fairly fit and protein dense. As in, muscular. Wouldn't have guessed it beforehand.
As we approached our building, a bright voice rang out above our heads. "And here come the front runners! Howdy, boys!" It was Elizaveta, peering down at us from atop her stairwell.
"Elizaveta!" I cheered, and Alfred tried to yell up too, but he hadn't quite caught enough breath yet. "What are you up to, way out in the wilderness like this?"
Eliza scoffed, "Gil got called down for baby sitting duty, I'm just waiting for him to get back. You two are lucky, coming back now, cuz I'm making a special treat for dinner." She smiled, before waving at us to head up.
"Dinner!" Alfred exclaimed, meeting me with suddenly bright eyes and limitless energy. "Oh hell yeah! Wait up Eliza, we're a comin'!" He charged forwards, taking the steps two at a time. I watched with raised eyebrows, my eyes trailing this odd blond bundle of excitement as he went upwards.
"Yo, Ivan! Back already?" Gilbert came up behind me, and I sighed. "Got lil Louis here with me today." The small child was bouncing around in Gilbert's firm hold, blabbing and fighting the air. His big brown eyes looked at as much as they could, leading me to grin at his small enthusiasm.
"Eliza told me that you had went to get him, Gilbert. She also mentioned something about a special dinner." I prompted, hoping that Gilbert might know something about this event. I didn't exactly show it, but I was just as excited by the meal as Alfred.
Gilbert, upon having a bit of his hair tugged, raised the small boy ahead of him. "Oh, why don't you tell him, Louis?" The boy screamed in delight, kicking his legs to and fro. Gilbert laughed and squeezed the boy in a rough hug a few times, which only made the child laugh right along with him. "Rakott krumpli, that's what she's making." I didn't know what that was, but I figured I'd find out soon enough. "And this little guy loves it! Ain't that right?" Stepping past me, Gilbert continued to talk to the young boy, something about running up the steps as fast as he could. I shook my head, wondering what a drug dealer was doing, half raising a child. It seemed, I thought to myself as I followed behind, that they were watching Louis more and more. Gilbert didn't mind a bit, and Eliza didn't care either, but I was a bit concerned. I hoped that the grandparents of this child wouldn't loose him like they lost their daughter. If Gilbert's word was good, they had a genuine love for the baby.
As I reached the top of the steps, I caught the final glimpse of Gilbert walking into his apartment, so I hurried right along. The door was ajar, and I pushed it open, stepping into the small hall. With the kitchen to my left, I looked in as I walked by, seeing the lady of the house preparing her dish. She was using a large baking pan, and I saw some potatoes, along with other important components of the meal right next to her. I couldn't quite tell what they were, because they were tucked into a bag. The potatoes, however, were being cleaned.
As soon as I reached the small living room, I dashed for the couch, collapsing. Perhaps I had over estimated my stamina... For I felt the effort put out in the run catch up to me. A bit of ruckus broke me from my daze, and within the moment, the living room was consumed in chaos. Alfred tumbled from another room, stumbling and laughing as he rushed out. Next came Louis, who looked damned and determined to catch up with his playmate. He cackled in an adorable way, just about to tackle Alfred, when Gilbert swooped in, snatching the kid up. "Gotcha!" He declared, but the boy wouldn't give up so easily. He smacked Gilbert on the nose, and the man cried out, falling down in a slow, pained way. He landed on his back, with Louis sitting on his chest.
"Ya got me!" Louis clapped his hands together, bouncing up and down. Gilbert wheezed dramatically each time the boy landed on his chest, and when the young one ducked off to investigate me for a moment, Alfred took his chance to jump in and catch Gilbert up in a headlock. "Heh, you're beat, old man!" The younger blond said, digging his knuckles playfully into Gilbert's hair. Tangled up, Gilbert had a bit of a hard time struggling free, though he hissed that he would never be beat all the while. Glancing up at Louis, who was explaining quantum physics to me in his baby language, he called out, "Loui, Loui, c'mere and gimme some back up, would ya?"
Louis clapped his hands and screamed in delight, approaching Alfred on slightly wobbly legs before battering him with small baby hands. Alfred loosened his grip on Gilbert, peering back at his attacker. "Oh, so you want some too, huh?" He gently cuffed the young boy over the head, accidentally knocking him over. Gilbert slipped free, about to tackle Alfred with all he had, when something else caught his attention. Louis had begun to bawl. He wasn't hurt, he had just decided to throw himself on the floor and soak up as much attention as possible. His guardian angle scowled at Alfred, who shrunk down and attempted to defend himself. "I swear I didn't smack him that hard, Gil, honest-"
"You gotta be more careful, Al. He's too little to be smackin' around, even if he smacks you around." Gilbert barked, making his point clear. Alfred scuttled up next to me, out of the other's way. Gilbert scooped up the adorable little attention hog, poking the kid in the nose. "Hey, tough guy. Nothin' happened." The baby stared at him, a bit confused by his lack of concern. "Nothin' happened. That doofus down there couldn't kill a fly if he wanted to. He didn't hurt you. Nothin' happened." However odd it may have been, his tactic worked. Louis calmed down completely, giggling and falling into the man's shoulder. A bit of motion caught my eye, and I saw Elizaveta peering around the corner of the kitchen door frame. She had a soft look in her eyes, and I couldn't help but crack a smile. Just as soon as she appeared, she left, unseen by the others in the room.
"Jeez," Alfred muttered my way, "I didn't hurt the kid! You saw, didn't you?"
I nodded. "Yes, Alfred, I saw. But you did knock him a little bit too hard, even if you didn't quite hurt him. And besides, Gilbert was not being mean, he was being correct. Trust me, I've seen him mean. He was being nice, if you ask me." I couldn't tell who I liked seeing getting chewed out more, now, Gilbert or Alfred. Both were spectacles to behold, as Alfred snorted and folded his arms. His pouty attitude didn't last long, as Gilbert got right back down to playing with Louis. Alfred eventually joined back in, this time more careful (until he tussled with Gilbert. He was a tad more rough with him, though not enough to endanger Louis). The three all went between wrestling, talking, and messing with some spoons (I guess they hadn't any toys for the boy?), and I watched, occasionally finding Eliza spying on them from time to time.
A couple hours or so later, the cook in the kitchen announced that the meal was ready. Though, none of us heard her call. We had all fallen asleep. I know for a fact that I had fell out first. I assume that Alfred had clambered onto the couch and stuck his knees into the side of my leg, falling asleep soon after. Gilbert and Louis were simply passed out in a pile on the floor, the baby raised up with each breath the man below him took.
Eliza gently woke each of us up, restating that our meal was ready. I rubbed my eyes, thanking her, then took my spot at the table. Alfred lay on the couch for a few more minutes, as if recovering from his coma.
Gilbert struggled with a very hungry, angry baby, explaining that he had to go change the crazed child before he could join us. It was around then that Alfred realized exactly what was going on, so he jumped up and took his own seat, next to mine.
On the table, I reviewed the small banquet ahead of us. In the center, I assumed was the Rakott krumpli, and beside it, was... Macaroni and cheese? One look at Alfred, who was practically bouncing in his seat, and I knew that this was his handy work. We had a culturally diverse meal ahead of us, what with clean slices of bread to dip in a spiced vinaigrette, and the smell of some German pastries coming from the kitchen (I knew they were German, because Gilbert wouldn't have had it any other way).
Elizaveta took her seat, as Gilbert dashed back in. He plopped the fussing baby in his seat, presenting him with a pre-made plate, before sighing and sitting next to his beloved chef. Louis dug his small hands into his food, greedily grabbing it up to his mouth. "He was that hungry?" Eliza asked, staring at the boy in amazement. Gilbert laughed, "He always is when you're cooking!" Eliza grinned, shaking her head. She had forgotten about her guests, causing her to gasp as she looked our way. "Oh! Sorry, you two go ahead and get yours!"
Alfred quietly cheered, and I silently joined him. Despite the odd time for dinner that these two European escapees (as I called them oh so affectionately) ate dinner, they could really serve it well. We all got our plates, and dug in with as much enthusiasm as Louis had.
I pushed past the door, stumbled right back in, Alfred close behind. I braced myself on the wall, chuckling.
"Yo, tipsy," Alfred scooted past me. He stopped, waving a hand in front of my face. "You good?"
"Quite alright, Alfred. Now move." He did as I said, and I made my way to my favorite seat in the house: the floor in front of the couch. It was a spot from my time with Veña, comforting in its own slightly creepy way. The sun had set by the time that we had left Eliza and Gilbert's place. After dinner, the lot of us has settled down for a few games and drinks (Alfred had become pouty again, as he refused to drink because of his age. Silly boy! There are no laws here!), and as Gilbert had walked Louis home (don't worry, he hadn't really drank at all, hardly enough to get buzzed. By the time he was bringing the tired boy home, he was more than sober) Alfred was walking me home. And by that, I mean impatiently waiting for me to unlock the door.
"Why are you on the floor?" Alfred asked, standing over me. He was still in a bit of a sour mood.
"I like the floor, Alfred." He scoffed at my reply, and took his normal seat. There was no movie. There was no joking around. Alfred put his head back, and shut his eyes. But not to sleep.
I watched him, my fuzzy mind and blurry eyes trying to guess exactly what was going through his head. Pulling myself from the floor, I sat unevenly on the higher surface of the couch (well, I was halfway on the couch. It counts).
"I'm going to tell you a story." He murmured. "And you better not remember it. I was waiting for you to get drunk so that I could, you know."
I nodded. "It makes sense, Alfred. You are very clever, more clever than you look."
"Yeah." He shoved my comment aside. "I'm serious, you better not remember this. I just... I wanna get it off of my chest. I'm sure you got secrets you're hiding from me, right? Yeah, I doubt you moved outta your town just because you hate hicks."
I chuckled, shrugging. "You'd be surprised what hate can do, Al."
Alfred raised his chin, looking at me in a rather blank yet inquisitive way. "I'd be surprised, you're right. Anyway, I guess I'll just... Spill my guts."
Cool air pulsed through the glowing night, passing between the fingers of the driver of this large black SUV. Beside him, sat a slightly younger man, who peered out the window. His nerves burned bright red, and beneath his skin, his heart beat furiously. The passing trees, flying houses, bundled stars all blurred as they went by, unfamiliar and anxious.
"Al, you haven't said a thing this whole time. You sure about this?"
The young man didn't look at the shadowed face of the man who was speaking to him, for the details and structure, all hidden and muddy, we're just as unfamiliar to him as the neighborhood they were passing through. "Yeah. I told you I was old enough to start making my share, didn't I? I told you... I'm strong, I've been working for this for a while."
"You're only fifteen." The driver pointed out, a note of concern in his voice. His passenger didn't reply.
The two drove on. Where they were, lived the hardly well off, the idiots of the lower middle class. The idle class, as some called them. These people here, the muddled youth especially... They didn't fear the evil that lurked in the streets.
The dark car pulled to a stop at an intersection, the driver sighing. "Al, this is your stop. No rides from strangers, got it?" Alfred cracked up, wiping his hand over his face. "Yeah, I got it, bro. Meet ya on the corner of Walnut and Lark, right?"
"Right." Alfred opened his door, and hopped down. The bitter autumn wind, scented with decay, danced across his skin. His jacket was pulled tighter around his frame, and the young, young man went on his way.
He walked for about a block or so, until he found his targets. "Margie, Gabby, Summer!" He greeted in the most genuine manner he could. "Glad to see you guys didn't fake out on me!"
The three girls, each with a bag in hand, quietly cheered upon seeing their dearest teenage crush. Gabby was Alfred's age, while Margie and Summer were a year or so younger. "Like we would!" Gabby scoffed, pulling Alfred in for a hug. The other girls muttered something between each other, then turned back to Alfred. "So... We going, or?" The girls all nodded together.
"Fuck yeah," Summer smirked, her teeth adorned with colorful braces. "I ain't stickin' around here no more."
Gabby snorted, and Margie gasped. "That's a bad fucking word, Summer!" Alfred laughed along with them, but he cut his voice off as he saw headlights. "Come on, guys, we aren't even going to make it down town if we keep on like this! Someone'll catch us."
Gabby and her gang all agreed, and the four moved along on quiet feet, soft voices. "You said you had a ride for us?" One asked. Alfred nodded. "Sure do."
"And you said we'll never see this hell hole again?" Another demanded. "Not if we make it to the city." Alfred promised. A bit of sweat wandered across his face, down his neck, beyond his shirt. It was so cold.
"So," Gabby prompted between smacks of gum in her mouth. "You ain't trickin' us, Al?" Alfred turned around, shrugging in a cool manner. "If you guys wanna go home, run along. I'm not dragging little bitches into something they'll just whine about." All three girls looked incredulous. They all denied their bitchiness, to which Alfred just shrugged again. "Prove it." With new determination, the corner of Lark and Walnut appeared quicker than suspected. And after a few minutes, so did a familiar set of headlights.
"This is our ride!" Alfred announced, and the girls beside him continued their nervous, excited chatter. Oh, how thrilled these little things were to be escaping their school, their parents, all of the bullshit that everyday life had to throw their way.
The SUV stopped, and the four piled in. "Now, girls, we aren't gonna be able to go straight to the city." The driver began to explain and Alfred started to fidget. "We gotta take a way around the city, then another person'll drop you off there, alright? I hope you guys understand, sorry it's gotta be like that. Just dangerous, y'know?"
Gabby nodded. "Oh yeah, we get it. Cops and shit, right? God, that would suck, if they caught us."
Summer snorted, playfully nudging her friend. "Like they would! Al and his bro know what's up."
Margie glanced out the window as they drove off. "My mom would fucking kill me if we got caught, and I'm already dead as it is! So... I'd be double dead or something. Better not get caught."
"We won't." Alfred reassured them.
And, as fate would so kindly have it, they did not get caught. The driver knew all the back roads, all of the lightless streets and lifeless paths. Soon enough, after some banter and chatter, they arrived at their destination. A familiar house, Alfred noticed.
"This is where the train stops!" The driver announced, pulling his own car in beside another. The girls eagerly shoved themselves out of the car, regrouping on one side. Alfred stood close, but not to close. He could hear an exchange on the other side of the car, and he listened intently.
"Three of 'em, eh? With your boy, no less! Good one, good one... Here's your pay. I'll tell you if I need your help again, yeah? And give Al my best."
Another man clambered from the passenger seat of the unknown car. Alfred backed up a few paces, but held his gaze steady. "Car's all yours, girls," he beckoned. The girls, suddenly a bit more unsure, looked at Alfred for reassurance. He nodded. "Yeah, this is our ride to the city, guys." Summer shrugged. "What the hell, we've been waiting for this for our entire lives, guys!" She dashed forward, dragging Margie with her. The man nodded to himself, stalking back to his seat in the car. Gabby stuck behind, giving Alfred a look he wasn't sure he liked. She glanced at her all too eager friends, and scoffed. "They don't have half a damn clue what this is even about." She muttered, drawing a little closer. "Too bad I do, though." She lunged, embracing Alfred with her surprisingly strong arms. Her own lips melted with his, and Alfred tried his best to return the favor. This was... What it was about, right?
The kiss was disgusting and sloppy, it tasted like old gum, and Alfred quickly decided that this wasn't what any of this was about. He shoved Gabby with a brute force, slamming a knee into her gut as he drug a hand across his mouth. "G-get offa me, bitch." He spat. "Save yourself f-for some other asshole, yeah?"
Gabby wheezed, having fallen to the ground. The driver of this little spectacle approached, and saw the scene. "She getcha, boy?" He cackled. "Gotta watch out for the witches, I say!" Alfred started to shake. The driver hoisted Gabby up, ignoring her tiny coughs. "Ah, you'll be fine. He didn't hit ya, not hardly."
As the car door slammed, Alfred dashed off, passed his brother, passed the foul taste in his mouth, passed the ache in his mind, slamming the door to his room behind him.
His brother stood outside of the door, placing a hand on the old, sealed wood. "You did good today, Al. But I told you. You're too young for the trade... Kinda like how I was, I guess. We have icecreams in the fridge if you want one." And then he walked off, not realizing that Alfred was taking little dabs of hand sanitizer, spreading them across his teeth, over his tongue, inside his cheek, just to rid himself of the flavor, the flavor of youth.
He would surely enjoy an ice cream afterwards, though. It was a deserved prize, Alfred reckoned. This was what he wanted. This was his life. This was where he would stay, in the heart of Atlanta's love, it's trade.
Yes, he agreed with himself, poisoning his mouth. This was what it was about.
