C h a p t e r | T w o

( Ketchup Popsicle )

I wake up, pulling myself up from my stomach as my bitten fingernails tapped against the yellow pillow case that I was resting my head on. My whole body feels sore, but a good kind of sore, which may sound weird. My body falls flat again, but only to stretch as I cover my mouth to yawn. In the foggy pit of which is also known as my mind, I know that I did something bad last night, I know that I'm going to have to deal with it today. But oddly enough, I'm not as worried as I thought I would be, which is completely unlike me. But everything feels so fuzzy and great that I could care less right now. Oh god, I always feel so good after—

Wait, who did I bang last night?

I remember that I came home, really drunk obviously, and I remember coming home with someone. I remember kissing someone who was a great kisser too, tongue in all the right places and everything. And then, I remember the fact that their is someone snoring softly next to me, I'm a little scared to look. I turn, and I see someone breathing under the comforter, I gently brush my fingers across the top before pulling it off. I don't scream or overreact when I see him, because it seems the moment itself has reached down my throat and robbed me of my voice. And it's not horrifying or anything, which is what you might expect, I'm just speechless.

Mario shifts against me, and I can feel my skin brush against his, my face flushes a deep scarlet in response. He muttered something that could've meant absolutely anything, from a 'yes' to a 'no' to a 'cheesecake', I debate on weather or not to wake him up and explain to him about this. But it's Mario we're talking about, the most unintelligent and insensitive person in the world, he'd freak out and probably accuse me of raping him or something. Which I'm sure I didn't, Mario wouldn't be sleeping next to me willingly if it were so. The thought of him writhing underneath me, breath hitched, and begging flickers across my mind. I feel kind of powerful.

I can't help the smile that's painted across my face.

Next to me, Mario shifts again. This time to reach over and smack my arm. He sits up slowly, eyes hazy and blank, rubbing them with his hands. Blue eyes, round and dark, gazed at their surroundings without really seeing. He sees me, but not the situation and of course, all he could think about is his stomach. I can hear it growling from here, faintly at first, and when he leans in towards me to kiss me on the cheek, he says only one thing before plopping his head back down to his pillow.

"Hmm, make me breakfast?"

I stare at him in disbelief, but I don't say anything else. I get up, making sure not to disturb him as I wander towards the kitchen.

´¨¤.¸¸´¨¤.¸¸´¨¤.¸¸

I yawn for the twenty seventh time today, staring blankly at the eggs sizzling in the greased frying pan in front of me, I reach my hands towards the bacon that sits next to me in an already open package. I place it on and step back, while the grease sizzles violently and falls onto the floor in teeny-tiny drops of brown. The eggs are almost done, so I pull out a plate and a glass of orange juice, when did I become Mario's chef? Can't he cook for himself? No, scratch that. We don't need another kitchen fire, I've already replaced the curtains, I can't spend money like that. I hardly make enough as it is. I remember the curtains costing me fifty dollars, which is a total fucking rip-off, but I was too foolish to realize it at the time.

I hear footsteps behind me, Mario's footsteps, I look away from the bacon for a second and stare at him. He yawns as well and he scratches behind his back, hair mussed up and eyes reading as sleepy still. He walks over, my eyes fall back on the bacon making sure it doesn't burn, I can feel Mario kissing the back of my head and it's more then a little awkward. So, are we acting like a couple now?

"Mornin'." Mario mumbles.

"Good morning." I reply, blushing a little when he rubs his cheek against mine. The bacon is done, so I slide it along side the eggs and put the plate in front of Mario. Mario sits at the dinner table, grabbing the bacon and nibbling at it slowly, looking at me while he does so.

"How'd you sleep last night?" He asks, slightly muffled by the bacon clenched between his teeth. I slide into the chair in front of him and take a piece of bacon as well, I wonder why he's being so casual even after what we did. He remembers right?

"Uh, fine." I mummer, the bacon's too crunchy, I end up scrunching my nose in disgust before spitting it out into my napkin.

"Well, that's nice." He says, already finished and I marvel at the fact that he can eat so fast. "My back kind of hurts though."

I study him for a bit, completely astonished about how he's dealing with this, just ignoring it. Like it didn't even happen, and I can't help but feel a little peeved. I clench my teeth, holding everything I desperately want to say in, which might cause some ulcers later. Mario switched gears and began talking of much more useless topics, but I had already tuned all sound at this point. Anger flickering through my entire body even though for the life of me, I can't really tell why.

"Are you alright? Weegee?" Mario asks me, leaning over the table towards me, face really close to mine and I can a blush creeping up into my cheeks.

"Yes," I squeak, my eyes blinking several times, I lean away from him. "Just fine, it's a little hot in here though."

The next thing I know, Mario is up and fiddling with the thermostat.

´¨¤.¸¸´¨¤.¸¸´¨¤.¸¸

Of all the weird things about Mario, the weirdest thing about him is that he loves putting ketchup on everything. And when I say everything, I mean everything. Cupcakes, muffins, éclairs, strawberry tarts, sponge cakes covered with inch-thick icing and topped off with glacé cherries – they were all heavenly despite the fact that they were always drenched in ketchup. He would always offer me some, but I'm actually not the fondest when it comes to ketchup. So I'd decline, in the politest way possible of course. He thought I was weird for not eating though, but in truth he is the odd one.

"I just don't get you, Weegee." He mumbled through a full mouth, lips stained with ketchup, fingers sprinkled with sugar. "It really does taste good, or I wouldn't be eating it."

"People have different tastes you know," I admonish, pinching his cheeks and pulling. "Not all people love ketchup as much as you do."

It was not long ago that we had that discussion, it was a few months at the least, and we're standing on the front porch - having the same discussion again. I bought two Popsicles outside, because the sun is steaming hot, and I wanted something cold in my mouth. And yes, I know how inappropriate that sounds, shut up. Mario's sitting next to me, kicking his feet against the floorboard underneath us. Mario's shoe scruffs the wood slightly, leaving small stark white lines across it.

"You bought me cherry right?" He asks, already reaching for a ketchup packet that's sticking out of the pocket of his denim overalls.

"Yes," I say, feeling my eyes narrow. "I don't think you should be putting so much of that stuff on everything you eat, I'm pretty sure it's not healthy." I add, poking his shoulder.

"I'm sure it's not." Is his reply, already squirting the red liquid onto the Popsicle and I cringe in disgust. "It's rude to stare at people like that when eating." He hissed bitterly, jerking his shoulder away from me, and I frown.

"I'm allowed to have an opinion." I mumble, licking at my popsicle and looking away from him. I can feel him bent his head close to my neck, he moves his lips against my skin, and the whole time I don't move an inch.

"Maybe you should have a taste?" He suggests, hand stroking my cheek and I can feel my face burning a bright shade of red.

"Don't get your hopes up." I say jokingly, just to hide the fact that Mario is making me nervous, but I guess he can already tell. I look at Mario, who's sporting a Cheshire Cat grin and I can feel his fingers close around the front of my collar, pulling me closer. I could taste the cherry on his lips mingled with the strange, sharp taste of artificially-enhanced ketchup, and it tasted nice. So nice in fact, that I found myself sticking my tongue in his mouth, trying to take in all the bizarre blend of flavours.

"Good?" Mario asks, and all I can do is nod.