Thanks for the reviews everyone. Well, since it's gonna be AngelKairi's birthday soon, I guess this chapter would be dedicated to her. Happy birthday and many more to come :D
And I'm curious why the word "criticism" in the last chapter was bolded. It wasn't on purpose, but. Oh well, shan't bother with it.
Disclaimer: Ooggaa booggaa poo pooooo. The Best Disclaimer in the world.
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The olive green covers of the bed was strewn with cards and torn up letters from well-wishers.
He flipped open the card on the deck of cards. It was an ace of spades, the last ace.
He fingers quivered slightly over the razor-sharp corners of the card.
He placed it next to the ace of diamonds, gingerly, as though the bed would break if he used any more strength.
He flipped the last card of the deck.
Two of spades. He put it on the ace. Another winning game, he thought.
His hands moved around, arranging the cards according to their suits.
His mother used to take his hands in hers and comment on how long his fingers were, how beautiful his hands were.
He picked up the last card to complete the game.
The King of Hearts.
He slid the corner of it across his palm, exerting pressure on the delicately coloured skin.
The liquid that had became habitual for him to see rose from the newly formed cut, minute but strangely deep for a cut from a card.
His mother would still be proud of these hands.
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The covers that shrouded him through the night was flung onto the floor suddenly, his exposed upper torso revealing his finely-toned abs. He had heard a continuous, ringing sound in the air, in his sleep. He glanced at the illuminated clock by his bedside.
It was eleven in the morning.
The ringing noise proceeded. The pillow, acting as his earmuffs, could not provide any comfortable blockage to his ears from the sound. He gave up, cursing profusely as he walked to the door.
He didn't want to open the door to another one of those old ladies who came to poke around in his life and to console him with the synthetic words and the saccharine voices all again. He heard those a thousand times since the day his mother died.
He didn't need them.
He only needed himself.
His hand hovered over the gold-coated doorknob.
Then he twisted it.
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"Boy, you sure sleep funny." The familiar, joking voice and her chuckle rang in his ears.
Considering it was the only voice he had ever heard besides his mother's.
His eyes set upon her face, he studied her Asian features closely.
Raven black hair, cropped layered and short, with a pair of indigo eyes, complete with a set of dark, long lashes, all set in a babyish face with cheeks tinted with pink.
Not bad at all, he thought, with those eyes to compliment her face.
Unique, just like her.
He felt someone tugging at the fabric on his legs.
Kneeled on the floor, an innocent look plastered on her face, her fingers grasping the denim fabric in her hands.
"You wear tight jeans and a black leather belt to sleep huh? You're weird, kiddo."
She grinned at him.
He stared at her.
Weird, just like him.
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"So. Tell me why you dragged me out here in this morning where I could have slept in for a couple more hours?"
The Red Man blinked. She had a bemused expression on her face, her attention span divided, partly on the shiny silver button right next to her, and partly by him.
"How do you get your hair so spiky? I mean, you don't use gel right? Reminds me of my friend's hair! It's so cool, I wish I had hair like that! Imagine the wonders of not using a comb!" He sighed and took a couple of steps away from her.
He never knew his first friend would be so…weird. But, he was weird too. So.
He proudly admitted silently to himself he was a hypocrite.
"Hey, let's go grab a bite, okay new friend?" She swung her black tote wildly, scaring the little boy next to her who gripped on to his mother's hand tighter.
He raised an eyebrow.
"Um, what does "grab a bite" mean?" She gaped at him and her hand stopped in midair.
Swoosh.
He regretted the query.
The little boy next to her blinked.
Comics, gum wrappers, lipbalm, a lollipop, keys, a handphone, a pad of paper, a black marker, and a creamy white wallet adorned with silver studs littered the once-clean pavement. She grinned sheepishly.
"Oops." She bent down. He followed suit.
"it means to go grab something to eat from a place, weirdo. Geez, you've never had a friend or what?" Wonderful. She read right straight into him. He picked up the strawberry-flavoured lollipop and thrust it in her direction.
"Actually, yes." Her eyes were glued on him, the orbs expanding to twice their size. She dumped the comic in her tote. He noted the girly cover and the many tiny hearts on it.
The little boy loosened his grip on the hand he clutched so tightly, waded over to the curb and bent down.
"Then I'll be the best you've ever had." Her hand over his, she pushed the lollipop back to him, his hand onto his chest.
She picked up the black tote, rendered useless while on the ground, and swung it onto her shoulder, black strap over the turquoise-coloured tee, self-designed chucks tapping on the stunningly white pavement.
A flash of light.
The little boy sprinted off, his mother shouting, screaming at him to come back.
The Green Man was lit up.
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So, he had eaten breakfast with her. And he had learnt what was called "grab a bite". And he had eaten what she called the "most superdupercalifragil-whatever-wonderful-fantastic-yum-yum meal ever", which had turned out to be some weird dark creamy substance with chucks of chocolate in it. Well, it wasn't bad.
After all those years he had gone organic.
The first taste of the outside world since eight years old.
The white, ruffled shirt which was on him landed gently on the olive green covers which retained the smell of the rose-scented perfume his mother would add to the covers each time.
He observed himself in the mirror, the reflection facing him, arms hanging by his side.
The hand with its bloody blemish, the hand which was part of what his mother was so proud of gripped at his chest, squeezing the flesh which was near his heart.
The little boy he saw today had strummed on his heartstrings hard, the awful melody killing him.
The little boy was him.
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Woah, doesn't make much sense. Ehehehe, please review and thanks for reading:D