"…what the hell is that?"
"A Horsantula."
I stare at him. He looks back at me like it's the most obvious thing ever.
So if you're just joining us, basically I finished breakfast, went up to my room, and found Blondie sitting at my desk doodling on his sketchpad.
And by doodling, I mean shading in the most demonic looking picture of some… animal… thing… ever conceived. Horsantula is a pretty accurate name I guess, it's literally a drawing of a crazed horse's head on a tarantula's body. Oh, and the eight legs are horse hoofs. Because why the fuck not.
"A Horsantula." I repeat.
He nods.
"Well, thanks for clearing that up. Now for my next question. Why are you drawing a Horsantula?"
"Well," he swivels the chair to fully face me. "I was thinking about our subject word 'apple'…"
"Uh huh…"
"And then I started thinking about how sometimes you find worms in apples…" He continues, twirling his pencil between his fingers.
"Uh huh…"
"Then I started wondering if there's anything in the world that might like eating apples with worms in them…"
"Uh huh…"
"And then on a whim, I drew this." He finishes.
"…uh huh. Okay, okay. So are you sure the cigarettes haven't burned a few holes in your brain yet?"
He takes my smartass comment in stride as he turns back to work on his devil worshipping sketch. "Art's about inspiration." He comments blithely. "And inspiration pops up at random times. I like to draw down something immediately as inspiration comes, so I don't forget or lose interest later."
I merely hum as a response. If Horsantula here is an example of the kind of inspiration that takes over Blondie, I don't wanna know what the rest of his sketchbook looks like. But it's clear enough that he's damn good at bringing his nightmare fuel to life. I find myself staring interestedly at his hand as it washes fluidly over the paper, each stroke adding deeper definition, making it seem 3D on the flat surface.
…I was proud of myself when I drew my first cube in Art.
The scribbling stops, and he lifts his sketchbook for me to observe the finished Horsantula in all its glory. "What do you think?" He inquires.
"It's disgusting to look at, you Satanist. God, and here I was thinking that you weren't completely insane."
He quirks an eyebrow, lips curling up slightly. Again, not the reaction I expect from what I meant to be a demeaning statement.
"You know, it's almost like you don't mind when other people talk shit about you." I comment, tilting my head and folding my arms.
"Reacting to a drawing isn't an insult." He explains. "Art's supposed to provoke a reaction, and by yours, I'd say Horsantula here is a success."
"I see. And did you get the reaction you wanted when you drew that stupid picture of me the first day of school?"
Blondie gives me a look that almost seems like exasperation. I hold my stony stare.
"You're still on about that?" He says.
"Yeah, I am."
"Wow, Ness. If I had known you'd cry about it and write it down in your diary, I'd never have gone through with the joke." He scoffs in his quiet voice.
I feel my jaw twitch. This guy… I let my hands instinctively curl into fists. He notices, and stands up out of my chair and levels with me. I can see him tense up, but I know he's not gonna make a move until I do, unless he really, really wants die.
"You know, you're right. It's not a big deal." I say evenly. "But you know how normal people greet each other, Blondie? They say hi. They don't make crappy drawings of the other looking like a retard. If I had known you were gonna present yourself as a complete prick, I'd rather have taken my chance with the creepy Goth kids. At least they wouldn't try to ruin my mood on purpose!"
We stare each other down. Then his head droops down, seemingly at a loss for words. Then he looks back up again with a weird expression.
"Blondie?" He says.
I let out an audible sigh. "Yes. Blondie. That's you. Is that the only thing you pulled away from my rant you fucking idiot Blondie?"
"…I have a name, you know."
"Well, Kyotonese for dark dragon or whatever is too hard to remember, so you're Blondie." I reply snidely.
"I'd rather be remembered by name and not hair colour, Ness!" He snaps fiercely.
Whoa! Was not expecting that volatile reaction.
But as soon as the sharp words left his mouth, he turns back to his usual, stoic, meek self. He sits back down, and turns the chair so he's no longer facing me again.
Huh. So that's what it takes to provoke a satisfying reaction from him? Calling him Blondie? Man, what a guy. He takes threats of physical violence with the least of worries, but call him Blondie, holy hell dial 911.
"You want to know why I drew that picture of you that first day?" He suddenly says in a very quiet voice.
I don't answer. But he goes on anyway, refusing to look back at me.
"Because I'm a pathetic loser. That's why." He sighs, folding his hands over my desk and resting his chin on them. "All I really wanted that day was to just talk to you, Ness. You're the guy who makes friends with everybody, and I wanted to be a part of that too… But I couldn't work up the courage to actually come up to you and start conversation. I never could. It's one of the reasons why I don't have many friends. That, and Fuel…"
There's mention of the conflict between him and Fuel again. But I don't comment.
"I drew that picture hoping that when you saw it, you'd remember who I am." He continues with slight bitterness in his voice. "But what I thought was a meaningless prank backfired, I guess, since you didn't even acknowledge me anymore after that day… I hated myself after that, hated that I couldn't just come up and talk to you like a normal person, hated that I was always alone…"
He seems to be talking more to himself at this point.
"You know, I was so damn ecstatic when the teacher paired us for this project... aren't I fucking pathetic?" The last part of that comes out like a mumble.
"…yeah, you are." I concur. "You are fucking pathetic."
We fall silent.
Then I find myself walking up beside him, and putting a hand on his shoulder.
"Enough of this angsty bullshit, Lucas." I say. "Let's get to work. We have apples to draw."
He turns around, an expression of surprise flashing off just a bit too late for me to not see. He nods stiffly, and begins pulling supplies out of his bag.
So for the next few hours we stay muddled in my room, working steadily on our Art project. And Lucas continues to conduct himself with an apathetic air. I wonder if the kid is afraid of displaying too much emotion or something, because make no mistake about it, there's an extra spring in every movement he makes now. He's happy, even if he tries to hide it behind that blank face of his.
What can I say? I don't want my project partner to be emo for the next 2 weeks.
With lunch approaching, I'm beginning to think that I have to pull the courtesy bullshit again and invite him for food.
But he's a step ahead. "I'm gonna get going now." He says. "Can I come over tomorrow, same time, to keep working?"
"Sure, whatevs." I wave him away. "Just don't break into my room when I'm sleeping again."
"I'll try not to." He pauses halfway out my bedroom door. "…see you, Ness."
"Uh huh. Later."
I listen as he heads downstairs, says a quick and polite goodbye to mom, and with that he's out the door.
I heave a sigh, lying back on my bed with my hands behind my head. That wasn't as completely awkward and unpleasant as I imagined it would be.
Footsteps enter my room. "So how goes the project, bro?"
I make a non committal 'ehh' sound.
"You can't be more specific?" Tracy pries, sitting down on the edge of my bed.
"Well what do you want me to say? We brainstormed, we talked about apples, we drew Horsantulas. Nothing interesting that you need to worry about."
"…Horsantulas?"
"Don't ask."
Tracy falls back, letting her head rest on my stomach. I don't feel like pushing her off.
"I'm actually more wondering how Lucas acted around you."
"Indifferent." Comes my more or less honest reply. "Why?"
She doesn't respond. We lie there staring at the ceiling, my breathing pushing her head up and down rhythmically.
"Y'know, Lucas is the first guy in school I told that I'm gay." Tracy says out of the blue.
I raise my head best I can from my position. "What?"
"He's been really encouraging about the whole thing. He's been giving little bits of advice on how to break the news to people, and he's kept it secret from everyone like I'd asked. He even offered to be there with me when I eventually come out to my friends."
She sits back up and turns to look at me. "He's a really nice guy if you get to know him, Ness."
I soak what Tracy just told me in. Weirdly enough, I don't have a problem believing that at all.
"So try not to make him wanna kill himself with your stupidity."
And that's how I end up chasing her downstairs, just in time to hear mom announce that we're going shopping after lunch for Christmas decorations.
-01210-
Next morning, I find myself answering the doorbell and receiving quite an unpleasant surprise.
Two blonds. One tall, thin, with a ducktail hairstyle in front. The other short, pudgy, with a bowl cut covering the eyes. I groan inwardly.
"Heyyy, Ness! Who's this loser?" Pokey jabs a thumb at Lucas, who's shifting around uncomfortably. Not that I blame him. "I've never seen him around before."
"No hanging out today, Pokey." I skip straight to the inevitable point, pulling the skinny blond through the door. "I'm working on an important project with Lucas right now."
"Aww! Come on Ness! Some stupid project can wait! I've got a whole day planned just for the two of us!" Pokey says excitedly, while at the same time shooting a rather pointed look at my project partner.
"Pokey, you know that I take my schoolwork very seriously. School above anything else." I say in as believable of a voice as I can. "Maybe next time."
"Well… what are you working on?" He tries, smiling broadly. " The Great Pokey can certainly help you with anything you need! I'm a much better partner than this kid here!"
"I don't doubt it, but my current partner will do fine. Maybe next time okay, Pokey?" I tell him semi-patiently, closing the door on him.
"B-but you've known me for way longer than him, why can't I-."
"Maybe next time okay, Pokey?"
Before the door fully shuts, I notice Pokey giving Lucas an ominous glare. Should I be worried? Oh whatever, he'll throw a tantrum for a few days and forget it.
On our way to my room, mom and Lucas exchange another all to warm greeting. I'm not really sure how to feel about how quickly mom has taken a liking to the guy. But I do know that mom's on the dot when it comes to sorting out the good from bad. On occasion when I bring some of my shadier friends to our home, she'd give basic formal greetings, but would not go further to make them feel welcome. Then after they leave she'd blab in my ear about my friend choices.
Honestly, I don't really like how Lucas has already placed himself on the good side of everyone in my house.
We continue working on our project. I'm pretty much letting Lucas pave the path, and happily walking behind him. He really knows his stuff. Despite not really expressing any outward passion, you can tell this guy's the real deal art nut.
"How d'you become so good at this stuff?" I ask, flipping through his sketchbook, making sure to pass over Horsantula quickly.
"I've always liked art." He answers quietly. "And I've had plenty of time in the past few years to practise."
"…so, like, are you gonna be an artist or something in the future?"
"Probably not."
I wait for him to continue. The dense idiot doesn't.
"Then what are you gonna be?" I ask with a hint of annoyance.
"I want to be an architect."
…again, he doesn't elaborate further. God, he's like a cheap wind-up toy, he'll go as much as you turn the knob.
"And why do you wanna be an architect?"
He faces me with that god forsaken small smirk on his face again. "I'm happy that you're taking such an interest to my life, Ness."
Good point. Why am I caring so much? "You know what, I don't give a damn." I dismiss, throwing his sketchbook on my desk.
He chuckles softly. "I want to be an architect because I like creating things, being able to conceive and build my ideas, my thoughts, and change the world with them."
God, what a hippie like thing to say.
"What about you, Ness?" Lucas asks. "What do you wanna be?"
"A really awesome guy. Oh wait," I look down at myself. "Mission accomplished."
"Seriously though. I notice you have a lot of Physics notes lying around your desk."
Crap, those are my study notes. With no more Jeff around, I have had to read and organize the Physics work myself to try to catch up. Learned a few things about myself along the way, such as if they ever invent an Olympic sport for organization, I should never try out.
"What about them?" I ask, more defensively than I wanted.
"I wasn't aware awesomeness required the Advanced Physics elective."
"Well, the more you know."
"…come on, Ness. Tell me."
Why should I? I don't wanna divulge my entire future plan to some stupid tobacco smoking hippie kid I only got to know yesterday.
"I want to become a pilot." …why did I say that?
"A pilot?" Lucas's brows raise.
"Yeah, a pilot. I think it's cool being able to fly, it's no fun being grounded my whole life." …why am I still talking? "Besides, I've always wanted to see the world outside of Eagleland." Seriously, why am I telling all this stuff to him?
Lucas breaks into a smile. Not a smirk, a smile.
"I bet that's a side of you not many people see." He says. "I think you'll make a great pilot."
Before I can react to that, he turns and starts walking out the door.
"Wait, where're you going?" …I mean, not that I care.
"Cigarette break. Be right back."
As he goes out to pollute my front yard, I think back to a similar conversation I had with Tracy some time ago. When I told her my plan to become a pilot, she… more or less laughed at the idea, not believing I'd ever be capable of flying planes. Even though it's possible that she had just been teasing like usual, I became sort of defensive, not really willing to tell anybody else about my career choice. My sister's reaction made me less inclined to know what others might think.
God, I sound like some insecure little girl.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out and read the return text Paula finally sends me. Apparently she's been hanging around Ninten quite a lot, which would explain why those two have sort of disappeared off the map. Usually as soon as break time comes, we'd gather together and play sports, mess around, loiter, all that good stuff. But this year, they've quietly retreated from my invitations.
Looks like their minds are still on Ana. It's fitting for the former best friend and former boyfriend to come together and talk about it, try to figure things out. As long as they're not retreating into their shells and letting Ana's abrupt goodbye ruin their lives, I'm happy.
The more I think about it, the angrier I'm getting with Ms. Oh-So-Innocent Ana. I've half a mind to drive 1000 kilos to Snowman just to call her out for her random, stupid decision to leave Onett.
I send a text back to my girlfriend, offering to hang out sometime after Christmas… which now that I think about it is just around the corner. Damn, time goes fast. The stores have put up decorations since October, so I've lost track of when the Jolly Fat Man would actually be squeezing down chimneys.
Speaking of holiday spirit… Lucas has just come back… with a head full of dandruff that I'm pretty sure he didn't have before.
I peer outside. Snow's coming down, hard. Looks like a white Christmas after all. What's up with this year? Onett's been getting more snow the past week than it has the entire last century.
"Hope the storm lets up soon, or it's not going to be fun getting home." Lucas mutters.
"Eh," I shrug. "What's a little snow."
Turns out, a lot. 'Cause after another hour or so, the storm's only gotten worse. My fenced backyard has pretty much turned into a white, fluffy swimming pool.
"I better get going now, before I'm screwed…" Lucas says as we stare out the window at the curtain of white.
"'Kay, come back on the 26th. I need a break from your annoying face." I tell him.
"No problem. Merry Christmas, Ness."
"Yeah, you too."
I hear him go down the stairs. Then I hear some muffled conversation between him and mom that's lasting longer than it should. Then I hear someone coming up the stairs.
"Your mom won't let me leave in this storm." Lucas says meekly as he re-enters my bedroom.
…goddamn it.
And that's how he ends up staying for lunch.
Sometime in the afternoon:
"I really need to get going, ma'am." Lucas says to mom, who's putting ornaments on our tree. "Thank you for lunch, but I shouldn't intrude any longer."
"Yeah, mom. His parents are probably worried sick." I supply.
"Oh, no. I'm not letting you go out there in that weather, young man." Mom orders. "You stay here until that weather lets up. You can call your parents to tell them where you are."
And that's how he ends up staying for dinner.
At this point, I'm getting kind of annoyed at Lucas. Not because he's being intrusive, but because he's really trying to be anything but. He's been doing his best to not disrupt our daily routines, he's been really polite and thankful during dinners, offering to do chores, never butting into our conversations, just being the perfect guest.
I fucking hate it.
And really, I don't know why. I feel like I'm looking for an excuse to dislike Lucas at this point. I mean, aren't I supposed to? He drew that stupid picture, he punched my friend in the face, he's a pretentious, irksome, slightly-taller-than-me asshole with the world's most annoying smirk. He's… he's…
I sigh to myself. God, this whole thing would've been a lot simpler if I had some random chick for a project partner instead.
The sky gets dark. Well, darker than it has been. And the snow's still falling at an alarming rate.
"Ma'am, thank you for your hospitality, but I very much need to get going now." Lucas insists, putting on his shoes at the door. He cuts mom off as she's about to speak. "No really, I have to get home, thanks for your concern, but I'll make it."
Mom looks unhappy, but relents, letting Lucas open the front door to leave.
As soon as he does, the wall of snow that's formed outside avalanches into our home, burying him.
…and that's how he ends up being persuaded into staying the fucking night.
Tracy sets up a sleeping bag for him in the living room, because we don't want to expose him to the toxic stench of my bedroom for too long, as she eloquently describes it. Lucas gives her a questioning look, but doesn't ask any more questions.
As he goes into our bathroom and washes up, I thank Tracy and give her a quick hug. I know she purposely avoided setting up the sleeping bag in my room, since it would be very awkward if I have another nightmare attack and wake Lucas up with my scream in the middle of the night. Tracy smiles back before disappearing into her room, the 'People with Black Hair Not Allowed' sign swinging as she shuts the door.
Not too long after, Lucas comes out, wearing the sleeping clothes I loaned out to him. His straw coloured hair isn't completely dry yet, but still somehow retains that weird ducktail shape.
"How do you get your hair like that?"
"I don't know, it's always been like this." He says, running a hand over to flatten it, but the shape springs back up as soon as he removes his hand.
I grin. "Whatever, you freak."
As I lead him down the stairs, I notice he's tugging at my shirt that he's wearing.
"What's up?"
"…it's a bit short."
"Yeah, rub it in why don't you…" I mumble, feeling sour.
His sleeping bag is laid out in between the TV and sofa. I nod towards it.
"I don't need to teach you how to work a sleeping bag, right?"
"I think I can manage, thanks."
"So have you called your mom and dad to tell them you're staying here?"
"Oh. Erm, yes I have."
Such a bad lie. "You should call them." I suggest firmly.
He sighs. "It's okay, really."
"I don't want them worrying about you."
"He won't be worried."
I don't like how skittish he sounds. "Lucas, what's the matter with-."
"Just… don't worry, okay?" He grins weakly at me, trying to take me off this conversation.
I purse my lips. There's something not right about this kid. Something feels off… almost uneasy. Then I remember back to how he described his father. 'Useless. Alcoholic. Violence prone…' I think? Is that what he said?
It suddenly occurs to me that he secretly may not want to go home.
"Hey Ness?" His voice snaps me out of my thoughts.
"Hmm?"
"If you don't mind me asking… where's your dad?"
I blink. "Oh. He's right there." I point.
Lucas follows my finger, looking utterly bemused.
"…your dad's a… bureau?"
"No, he's sitting on top of it."
"…he's a lamp?"
"No, the other thing."
"Ah, he's the phone. Wait, what? Your dad's a phone?"
"Yeah…" I can't help but smile. "It's like a joke in my family. Dad works in Fourside, and he rarely comes home. We usually only talk to him over the phone, so, yeah."
Lucas nods. "I see. But isn't he at least coming home for Christmas?"
"…not this year, he's a bit swamped with work, so…" I unwillingly sound disappointed.
I guess Lucas notices, because he doesn't ask more.
"Here's a picture, if you want." I offer, taking a small framed photo from the coffee table and handing it to him. The picture was taken by some random self proclaimed photographic genius in a top hat when we were visiting him in Fourside.
"That's him." I point to the tall man with medium length black hair, his hands on me and Tracy's shoulders. Ah… good ol' dad. I gotta look at this picture more often myself, or else half the time I forget what the man looks like.
"I see…" Lucas says in a barely audible voice.
But I catch something. He sounds puzzled. Why does he sound puzzled?
"Hey, is there something you wanna say?" I ask.
"...why does your dad wear a wig?"
…Say what? He hands me the photo, and I hold it close to my face, squinting at my dad's head, but failing to see anything out of the ordinary. "What are you talking 'bout?"
Lucas points it out for me. "You see that line, where the skin changes tones?" I look closely, and see what he's talking about. "That's where the wig starts. Most people won't be able to tell, but I can always see it, for some reason."
"…who knows, maybe his hairline's receding or something…" I shrug, putting the picture back. Huh, learn something new every day. Apparently that black mop on my dad's head is artificial. I'll ask (tease) him about it when we call him during Christmas.
We sit on the sofa and chat a bit more, admiring the Christmas tree mom set up near the lobby, flashing its cheap plastic lights.
Pretty soon after though, Lucas gets up worms into his sleeping bag with a yawn. I'm feeling a bit drained myself.
"Night." I say, getting up and heading to the stairs.
"Ness?"
I let out a tiny groan, although I'm not actually annoyed. "What now?"
"Thanks for letting me stay over. I'll be out…" He yawns. "…out of your hair before you know it…"
"Just go to sleep." I say, turning off the lights and heading up to my bedroom.
I lay on my bed and close my eyes to the alarm clock reading: Tuesday, December 24, 1:45 AM.
When I open them again, it reads: Tuesday, December 124, 3:12 AM.
Surprisingly, I wasn't jerked awake by another random, untraceable nightmare. I'm happy that tonight's a night of peace for me. But I do want a glass of water.
As I head downstairs, I hear shuffling. It takes me a second to remember that I have a guest sleeping on the floor tonight.
As I near the kitchen though, the shuffling now becomes accompanied by some quiet murmuring. I frown, and detour over to the living room. I happen upon the sleeping bag heap wiggling around quite a bit, along with Lucas's incoherent mumbling.
I tiptoe over to where his head sticks out. Lucas's head is filmed in a thin layer of sweat that's obvious even in the darkness. His eyes are shut tightly, his brows furrowed, and he's uttering incomprehensible sleep talk.
If I don't know the symptoms, then nobody does. He's having a nightmare.
And by the looks of it, a pretty bad one too.
I consider waking him up, but I remember that sometimes people who are shaken awake from intense nightmares can react really badly, and sometimes violently. So instead I sneak away, grab my glass of water, and start heading back to bed.
At the base of the stairs, I look back at Lucas again. He's still struggling with himself, looks like.
"Good luck…" I whisper, then walk back up to my bedroom.
I may not favour Lucas, but I don't wish horrible things upon the people I don't favour either. I know how bad a nightmare can be, and how draining they are on a person's mental state. I know better than anyone. So I wish him good luck, and hope his personal hell can come to an end soon.
-01210-
The next time I open my eyes, the clock reads: Tuesday, December 24, 9:01 AM. The sun's shining through the cracks of my blinds, leaving horizontal slits of white over my bed.
I yawn, get up, and pull up the blinds. The storm's stopped overnight, leaving a cover of gleaming white as far as I can see. Not a cloud in the sky, either. Funny how weather works, really.
…something smells good, I just notice. Mom's cooking up something fancy. No doubt for our guest.
...turns out, it's the other way around. Our guest is cooking up something fancy. For mom and her two kids.
I sit at the table, staring cautiously at the fluffy yellow… thing in front of me. I tentatively poke at it with a fork. Is it edible? Is it safe for Nesses to eat?
"It's an omelette." Lucas explains. "Try it out."
I oblige with a small bite.
…not as good as steak. But still a pretty damn amazing breakfast alternative. Looks like mom and sis agree as well, mom's halfway through hers, and Tracy's already vacuumed down the whole thing. Guess my project partner's pretty good with the culinary arts as well.
Suffice to say, if mom and Tracy didn't love Lucas 24 hours before when his stay started, they must now.
So it's not surprising when their faces express disappointment as Lucas announces that he's leaving. With no more excuse to stop him, they settle for sickeningly heartfelt goodbyes. I roll my eyes.
Though I find myself leading him out through our snowy front yard.
At the sidewalk, he turns to face me with that usual indifferent look. I don't offer much back.
"So… I hope you didn't have too bad of a time, having to share your space with me for a whole day…" He says, shoving his hands in his pockets.
I give an unhelpful shrug.
"…listen, I know you're not happy to be stuck with me for-."
"Shut up, dude." I interrupt. "Stop with the self pitying bullshit. It's annoying."
He lets out a long breath, a stream of fog escaping his mouth. It is winter, after all.
"I'm expecting you back here on the 26th, 'kay? Don't scamp out on me, I need a good mark." I say, folding my arms.
A nod. "No problem. See you then."
"Merry Christmas, Lucas." I add. "Christmas is about family. So try to have a good one, alright?"
He blinks, then nods with a smile. "I'll try. Merry Christmas to you too. Say hi to your dad for me."
"I probably won't."
"Yeah, I don't expect you to. Bye."
As he disappears into the distance, I see him pull out another cigarette and put it towards his face.
I head back inside, looking forward to having things back to normal. But as soon as I get back to my unoccupied room, I realize that over the past 2 days or so, it's become normal seeing that damn blond taking up space in my house.
I sit at my desk, staring at my Physics notes, thinking about Lucas. He may not want me to find out, hell, he may not even be aware of this himself, but I know one thing for sure about that kid. All the signs point toward it. The stoicism, the explanation for his prank, the smoking, the thing with his parents, the soft voice, even the fights with Fuel…
Lucas is brittle.
And I feel inclined to help him. It's like a built in feature for every Ness Unit, to help and watch over these kinds of people.
Hmm… remember back when I described that I live my life inside overlapping bubbles? I wonder when I let Lucas so far in through the layers.