I barely say a word the whole time we're in the coffee shop. I've already told him too much, I can't afford to get close, and I still can't figure out why he's so interested in me. I'm so wrapped up in the little thoughts chasing each other inside my head, I nearly fail to notice something as I slosh through the dirt and wet snow back to Autumn's. Riku is following me. I stop dead, glad that I'm still pretty far down the street from my place.
"Is there something you want from me?"
"I just wanted to walk you home. It's late, and this isn't the best neighborhood in the city."
"No kidding. Trust me, I'll be fine. I live here, you know." I turn and keep walking, listening to the wet crunch of Riku's boots behind me. "Riku, go home. This is stupid."
He stops right behind me, and I find myself flinching as I wait for him to lay a hand on me. It never comes. "Wanting to be your friend is stupid?"
"Yes. You gave me a ride. Does that mean you expect more from me? I gave you my gratitude, which is about all I can give. What else do you want from me?" He doesn't say anything, and that gives me the chills. I wait for the grasping hand again, though this time I worry that it'll be a painful, unbreakable grip, the kind that drags you into an alley but doesn't prepare you for what happens next. "My body?"
"Wh-- what?" If he's not shocked, it sure as hell sounds genuine.
"Do you want my body?" I face him now, trying to give him a smoldering look that I know is pretty pathetic. Amazingly, I can watch him turning red, even though I feel like a total cornball. "Must get pretty lonely in that big place, all by yourself."
"Just what are you implying?" He doesn't sound angry or even disappointed, just confused.
Now I turn away, dropping the fake seductive act in favor of my usual walls. "Maybe I've got you all figured out. You money types think we'll do anything for a little drop in the bucket. Sorry, my ass and what little dignity I have aren't for sale."
"... you think... that I think... you're a prostitute?"
No, I have to keep the walls up. No matter how much the horrified shock in his voice hits me right in the gut, no matter how genuinely shaken he sounds. "I think you think I can be made into a whore. Forget it. I've got too much else in my life right now."
"... Sora...."
"See you around, Riku... if I'm not lucky." I don't run. Running would just make it seem like I'm afraid. So I walk quickly, hearing only one pair of footsteps in the slush. And that's just the way I want it.
It's more than just my face that's numb by the time I get inside. Everything feels cold and dead, but it's even worse inside. I blow off people like they're nothing most of the time, and I feel even less guilty when it's some rich snob... not that I get many opportunities to do something like that. Why, of all the times I could start growing a conscience, did it have to happen now?
Because Riku's genuinely nice? I try to squash that nagging little voice in the back of my head, but I don't quite have the urge today. Ah, hell with it. It's easy enough to ignore. I toss my wet coat onto the closest hook and kick off my boots, wiggling my poor frozen toes. Cold, wet feet suck, so I take a minute to change my socks before I do anything else. The last thing I need is to catch a cold. After that comes my meds. My eternal leash, I should say. A few people have made the mistake of asking me why I can be the most miserable sonuvabitch in Alphabet City. That is not a good question to ask, especially when I'm all wrapped up in thoughts of a stranger that just won't leave me alone....
GAH! Even now, I can't get my mind off him. Since when did simple kindness make such a good impression on me? Well, besides Teresa and Lauren. They don't count. I've gotta be friends with them. I mean, how can you work with people you can't stand? Yeah, I know a lot of people do, but I have a short temper and an acid tongue and I really need that job. So better to be friends with them. Not that I spend any more time around them than I need to. I never know what's waiting around the corner for me, what could happen in the next second. The last thing I need is....
Self-musings halted. Done. Finito. I'm not thinking about it, and I have pills to take. I pad toward the kitchenette, listening to the creak of the floorboards under the threadbare carpet.
the dock creaks when you walk on it, or when the wind blows too strongly from the southwest
What the hell...?
white sand shifts between bare toes... the crackle of a dead palm leaf underfoot
I'm awake. I'm not dreaming. So why do I hear the ocean? I've never been to the ocean....
sea breeze carries salt spray... stings the eyes, but cools the face from the hot summer sun
I almost close my eyes. I don't want the salt to burn them, but there's no spray in the air....
bent palm sways in the wind... he'll never fall off his favorite perch, though... not a palm, but a--
My hand slams against the wall as I catch myself. Everything's spinning. My head hurts, and there's this roaring in my ears. Is it the ocean? I can still hear it... it sounds like the blood rushing through my skull. I can't hear the traffic outside, I can't feel the chill of my apartment. There's no rattle of the heater or creaking floorboards or snow and hail pattering against the windows. There's only the sound of my blood howling, the ocean screaming, to accompany the dark veil pulling down over my senses.
Oh.
I'm falling, aren't I?
It always happens this way. How could I forget?
rich, confident voice in my ears, cutting through adrenaline....
"my turn"
sharp crack across my back... pain and sound telegraphing through my body....
... falling....
falling
... falling....
... into darkness....
Sora doesn't strike me as the type to be so careless. I tried the door, figuring that I was doing it out of some stupid hope. Imagine my surprise when I found it unlocked. Could he be waiting to ambush me, maybe clock me one for "breaking and entering?" Doubtful, since I'm almost positive he didn't notice me following far behind him. I feel like a thief for doing it, but it's not illegal to want to talk. Still, it's a little impolite for me not to knock, but then he really would lock me out and ignore me if I gave him advance warning.
I open the door slowly, peeking inside and waiting for something heavy to crash down on my unsuspecting head. Other than the sight of a tiny, dim, rundown apartment, I don't see anything out of sorts. I step inside and close the door behind me, wincing as my wet boots squeak on the worn hardwood of the entryway. "Sora? Look, I just want to talk."
Nothing. It's too quiet.
"I know you'll probably beat the shit out of me for this, but just hear me out. Then if you want me to, I'll go quietly." I pause, listening for any sort of response. That very soft thump... did that come from next door, or just around the corner in the next room? Is that the sound of a struggling human breath? Apprehension prickles at the back of my neck as I round the corner, wishing I knew where the closest light switch is. I can barely see, and that's enough for me to almost trip over the pile of something on the floor.
... god....
... the moving pile of something....
I drop to my knees and lift that slight weight, half-cradling it to my chest as it twitches and shudders and spasms. No, not it... him. His head falls backward over my arm, and the little light coming from a nightlight in the kitchen washes over his face, casting shadows over slack features and half-open eyes that've rolled back until they're totally white. He makes this pitiful little gagging sound, his parted lips pale in the softly golden light. My heart twists into a cold knot in my chest; I feel totally numb to everything except him as he rides out the seizure, his fragile body seemingly ready to break apart in my arms from this horrible devil's dance.
And then it's over. One moment, he's nearly twisting against me. The next, he's still and silent except for the soft rasp of his breath. Thank god he didn't stop breathing, at least. I check his pulse... rapid but not dangerously so. I watch his eyes slide closed, leaving him like a warm rag doll in my arms except for the slight rise and fall of his chest. I know I should get him to the hospital, but I just can't. I carry him to the couch and gently lay him down, sitting on the floor beside him. His face is deceptively peaceful, his body limp. He'll sleep for now, hopefully through the rest of the night.
I know I won't.
TBC