For those of you who have read the previous chapters, I mistakenly stated that Zephyr was seventeen years old. As this is a look into what happened after the Crank Seminary incident, which was a year and some months before, he would have only been fifteen. Just wanted to clear up the mistake I made, in case anyone noticed. Sorry! It has been edited now. :)
The next morning I awoke to a whole new level of discomfort. I had fallen asleep on my back; I was sure of it, but somehow I'd ended up lying on the side of my body that was bruised, and it now felt like someone had been hitting me there repeatedly through the night with a very heavy object.
Sitting up after that was one of the hardest things I'd ever had to do, but I somehow managed to get my feet onto the floor and my body upright, ending up staring into a mirror that I hadn't noticed the night before, which was precariously balanced on top of the chest of drawers beside the shotgun. I really disliked looking in the mirror; it meant that I had to look at myself.
It's not that I found anything particularly displeasing about the way I looked. In fact, I had heard a few people around the town mentioning that I was good looking as I passed them on the street. It was strange and embarrassing hearing people talk like that about me. I had never considered myself particularly attractive before; to me I just looked like a normal teenage boy. That wasn't the point, though, as every time I looked in the mirror I wasn't thinking about that. I didn't see a normal teenage boy.
All I ever saw was a monster.
Aside from that, I looked a mess at the moment. Despite the fact that Vashyron had taken me to get my hair cut a few weeks ago, it still didn't look 'good', in my opinion. It was shorter now, but my hair never did what I wanted it to anyway, so the majority of the time I woke up looking like a homeless person. On top of that, there were now a few small injuries in various places on my face, and, as I had been crying the day before, my eyes were very slightly red. I had also fallen asleep wearing Vashyron's jacket, and, as nice a jacket as it was, combined with my hospital pyjamas and bed hair it only added to the whole 'hobo' image.
Brushing my hair roughly with my fingers, I pushed myself up from the bed slowly, my muscles aching in protest. I thought about asking Vashyron to come and help me, but couldn't bear the thought of him having to do anything else, so I settled on shuffling to the bathroom instead to do my morning routine. When I emerged from the bathroom, my eyes were immediately drawn to the wardrobe beside Vashyron's room. Most of his clothes were in there, but he had given me my own space, so we were now sharing it. My problem now would be getting dressed without causing myself any more harm.
I slowly made my way back to Vashyron's room, pulling some black jeans and a plain red t-shirt out on the way past, before pushing the door closed and starting the task of actually getting them onto my body. It was quite painful, and my limbs did not want to move the way I told them to, which meant it was a very slow process, but eventually I was free from the disgusting hospital attire and wearing something more comfortable. I left Vashyron's jacket on the end of the bed.
Quite reluctantly, I might add.
Just as I was about to go and get something to drink, however, I heard strange noises outside the bedroom door. It wasn't very loud, but it sounded as if someone was moving the furniture.
I opened the door a small crack, peeking through the gap to see Vashyron, still wearing the kind of clothes he usually slept in, with his hair tied up messily, carrying a box across the room to the front door. He looked rather cheerful, however, and I watched as he brought box after box from upstairs, piling them up. I could tell that they were the boxes from my room, I just didn't know why he was moving them, or where.
It wasn't long before he spotted me watching him and came over, chuckling and pulling the door the rest of the way open, smiling.
His hair was falling around his face out of the tie, and the shirt he was wearing was hanging off one of his shoulders as he leaned in the doorway toward me, but he still looked like he could have just stepped out of the pages of a men's fashion magazine.
Was I jealous?
Or...
"Hey there, sport."
"...H...hey."
"Did you sleep well?"
I nodded as he came past me into the room, taking the box of pills out of the bag he left on the desk and handing two of them to me.
"Here. You should keep taking these so the pain doesn't get really bad."
Before I could reply he was heading towards the kitchen, so I followed him in there, leaning against one of the counters to give my left leg a rest. The kitchen was small, but it had everything a kitchen should have, and it wasn't dirty or old. There was even a washing machine and a dryer. I had found nothing to complain about so far.
He slid a glass of water over to me across the counter top after filling it from the sink, chuckling.
"Can I get you anything else?"
I simply shook my head, taking the pills and drinking the rest of the water from the glass, but it was nearly knocked out of my hand when he started steering me out of the kitchen and towards the table, sitting me down.
"Well, you need to eat to keep your strength, so I'll make you something."
He returned to the kitchen without saying another word, leaving me to wait at the table, wondering what he was doing but feeling rather relieved to be seated.
The boxes from my room were in a pile by the front door, as if he was planning on taking them somewhere. I had no idea where, or even what was in them, but it would be nice to finally have them out of my room.
Vashyron returned to the living room a few minutes later, placing a large plate of pancakes on the table in front of me. They looked like he had just made them himself, and there was a warm, deliciously sweet smell wafting up from the pile. They were practically smothered with golden syrup, and there was a huge blob of whipped cream in the centre.
"What's the occasion?" I asked, jokingly, looking back up from the plate to meet his eyes.
He was grinning at me, as usual, but there was something even more cheery about him than normal. I watched as he pulled the chair from the other side of the table and sat down beside me, smiling and ruffling my hair.
"Happy Birthday, Zephyr."
It took me a very long time to process those simple words.
It was my birthday?
Since when?
"H...how..."
"I spoke with the people who used to look after you and they gave me your birth records. Today's your birthday, right?" he chuckled, patting me gently on the back and taking a bite out of an apple he had brought with him from the kitchen.
I continued to sit there in silence, unsure how to feel about this situation. The main concern being that I had forgotten my own birthday. Then again, I didn't even know what day it was right now.
I brought my gaze back to his, hoping that my expression showed confusion and he didn't think I was just being ungrateful.
"...Thank you," I managed to croak, hoping that he couldn't see the tears about to form the corners of my eyes.
This was, after all, the first time someone had ever done something like this for me. Not only did he know it was my birthday when I didn't, but he had obviously thought about it, even if it was just a little.
He smiled again, leaning his elbow on the table and taking another bite out of the apple he was holding.
"So, how does it feel to be sixteen? Two more years and you're technically an adult."
"I...don't know..." I shrugged, realizing that I hadn't really thought about it myself. Although I suppose the fact that I had survived this long after being shot in the head and then falling off a great height was an achievement in itself.
He laughed at this, finishing the apple and placing the core on the table, taking his hair out of the tie and brushing it with his fingers.
I found myself slightly mesmerized by this; his hair was actually a beautiful mix of different shades of blonde, and in some lights it had a certain golden glimmer to it. It wasn't until he spoke again that I realized I was staring.
"So, you're that enthusiastic about your birthday, huh?" he said sarcastically, chuckling, placing the hair tie around one of his wrists, before leaning on the table, watching me, "Aren't you gonna eat anything? I made those especially for you."
I managed to pull my eyes away from him long enough to realize that he was talking about the pancakes, and, with perfect timing, my stomach growled quite loudly, causing him to laugh again.
"Eat," he said, tapping the edge of my plate with one of his fingers, before pushing his chair back and getting up, taking the apple core into the kitchen.
I picked up the fork he had left on the side of the plate, scooping a generous helping of the pancakes, syrup and cream into my mouth. It was easily the most delicious thing I had ever eaten in my life. I had a very sweet tooth, but rarely got the chance to eat things like this while living in the orphanage.
He came back just as I had finished eating, clearing the empty plate from the table and ruffling my hair again.
He seemed to enjoy doing that.
"So, was it any good?" he chuckled, taking the fork from my hand when I held it out to him.
"Yes."
"You're the worst critic ever."
"It was delicious."
"That's better."
I think he would have touched my hair again had he not been holding the plate, but he was, so he simply returned to the kitchen to wash up while I went back to the bedroom to pull on some socks and shoes.
He didn't come out of the kitchen for a while, so for a good few minutes I was just sitting on the bed wondering what to do. Even after living here for weeks already, I still didn't feel comfortable treating it as my own home, which meant that I couldn't spend time just sitting around watching TV, even though I would have quite liked to.
Instead, I decided to take a proper look around Vashyron's room while I had the chance. I pushed the door to, leaving a relatively small gap. This way he wouldn't be able to see me, but I would be able to hear him if he came back.
I started on the desk first, finding nothing of real interest. There were two small drawers on the front of it, but both only contained piles of notes, receipts and various stationery, mostly broken pens. The notes didn't tell me anything, either, as they were all just lazily scribbled names and addresses, with brief summaries of what the person or company wanted him to do.
Just as I was about to move on to the other areas of the room, I heard footsteps as Vashyron came back out of the kitchen, and I quickly returned to my spot on the edge of the bed. If he came in I could simply pretend to be fastening my shoes.
From where I was sitting, I saw him walk across the living room and stop in front of the wardrobe right next to the door to the room I was in. I heard him open one of the doors, but couldn't see it from this angle. As long as he was getting some clothes so he could go and get dressed, that would mean I could continue my investigation once he was upstairs.
Or so I thought.
Instead, I literally felt my cheeks heat up as he pulled his tank top off over his head, placing it somewhere in the wardrobe, revealing a very attractive, model-like torso. He was lightly tanned, and from the outlines of the muscles on his stomach it was obvious that he was in good shape. He wasn't overly muscular, however, and as he leaned over the wardrobe to look inside, I found myself thinking that from this angle, and with his hair covering part of his face he looked rather feminine. It was an odd contrast, the way his hair was lightly brushing against his neck and shoulders every time he moved, yet at the same time the muscles in his stomach would become more pronounced as he bent down.
Despite feeling both embarrassed and slightly jealous at the same time, I found that I couldn't look away, simply continuing to stare as he rummaged through the wardrobe, probably to pick a shirt. I was now fully aware that if he even turned his head a little, he would see me watching him, and if I made any noise; that was the obvious outcome.
However, I literally stopped breathing as he slid off his sweatpants, too. Thankfully, he was wearing underwear, but it was ever-so-slightly too tight and left little to the imagination.
Luckily for me, having never done anything remotely sexual in my life and having been brought up in a strongly religious orphanage, I didn't have a lot of imagination to use.
But there was still some part of my brain that allowed my eyes to wander down his stomach, wondering what...
"Zephyr," he said, suddenly coming into the room, causing me to nearly fall off the bed in surprise.
I could do nothing but sit and stare at him, my eyes slightly wide, but I somehow managed to quickly move my line of sight up to his face, hoping that my cheeks didn't look as hot as they felt.
"Y...yeah?"
My voice came out high enough for only dogs to hear.
He laughed out loud, leaning in the doorway of the room and pushing his hair back behind one of his ears.
"Puberty getting you already? I couldn't quite hear that."
I cleared my throat, repeating it, this time in a normal tone.
"Have you seen my black shirt?"
Are you kidding? You came in here to ask me that?
"Uhh...you mean...the one you were wearing yesterday?"
"Yes!" he laughed, clapping, before disappearing again.
I heard him walking up the stairs.
Still sitting in the same position, I managed to take a deep breath, feeling reality suddenly hit me again like a slap in the face.
If he had noticed that I was watching him, -and he nearly did-, I would have never been able to look him in the eye again. I had been way too careless, and it wasn't like me.
Then again, it wasn't like me to stare at men while they were undressing, either.
I pushed myself back up off the bed, pacing around the room a few times, before nearly walking into Vashyron as he came back into the room, this time fully clothed.
"So, are you feeling alright this morning? Seeing as it's your birthday I thought we could go out," he said casually, completely ignoring my surprise.
"Um...yeah, sure."
"Isn't your leg hurting?"
"...Not really," I lied, shrugging it off, "I...think those pills are working."
He smiled, once again reaching out to ruffle my hair, and this time I felt myself flinch slightly when he did. Luckily, he didn't seem to notice, and left the room again, taking his jacket from the end of the bed next to me on the way out.
After taking a brief moment to pull myself together, I followed him out of the room, and we left the house, making our way towards the town. I found myself completely lost in thought for most of the walk, and he even stopped a few times to ask if I was alright, but luckily I was able to blame it on the injuries I had.
The truth was I that I was quite confused and more than a little bit embarrassed about what had happened earlier. Part of me was still worried that he had seen me watching him but was choosing to ignore it.
What if he had?
The main problem was that I couldn't figure out why I was watching him in the first place. As far as I knew I was attracted to girls.
Not that I'd ever dated any.
The truth was that I had never had a girlfriend. I had never even had anything close. There had been a few girls my age at the orphanage, but, as I didn't like talking to people, we never really got along. It's not that I didn't want one, either. I used to spend a lot of my time wondering what it would be like to be that close to someone; to like someone and have them like me back.
But it never happened.
Maybe that's what it was. I was obviously just becoming lonely, and, although I hadn't gone to all of the classes I should have, I still knew enough about puberty to know that this point in my life was going to be awkward.
Hormones, right?
Yeah, that's what it was.
Vashyron stopped me with a hand on my chest as we reached the shopping area of town, breaking me out of my daydream to see the weapon shop in front of me. He went in before I could ask why we were there, so I simply followed him, staying out of the way as he went up to the desk. The slightly grumpy old man was there, as usual, and Vashyron spent a while talking to him, before they were passing things back and forth. I couldn't see what they were doing from where I was standing by the door, but it seemed like Vashyron handed him some money, before motioning with his hand for me to come over.
I was a little dubious, as the man behind the desk didn't seem to like me very much, but he seemed rather cheerful all of a sudden, even shaking my hand as I approached them.
"Pleasure doing business with you," he stated, pushing a very expensive looking sub machine gun into my hands.
For a second I thought that he must have made a mistake, and I was about to explain that I didn't have enough money to buy something like this, as nice as it was, but Vashyron placed his hand on my shoulder firmly, smiling.
"Happy Birthday."
"...What?"
"It's yours," he said, motioning to the weapon in my hands, "I bought it for you."
There was no way I could take this from him. Guns like this didn't come cheap; especially not this quality.
I shook my head quickly, placing the gun on the counter top carefully, but Vashyron picked it back up, giving it to me and steering me back towards the door, waving to the salesman as he did so.
"It's a birthday present, so you have to take it," he said as we exited the store, "It'd be rude otherwise. You don't wanna hurt my feelings, do you?"
Once again I tried to give the gun back to him, but he held his hand over mine instead, refusing to take it.
"It's yours," he smiled, "I want you to have it. It's your birthday."
I couldn't help the small smile that pulled at the corner of my own lips, before it became laughter, and I ended up grinning like an idiot.
"Thank you."
I honestly couldn't believe that he had gone to all of this trouble just because it was my birthday. After all, I hadn't even known what day it was. He obviously cared a lot more than I did.
I suddenly found him hugging me as my brief fit of hysteria came to an end, and this time I decided to reciprocate. It felt extremely weird having my arms around another person. He felt kind of solid, clearly due to his toned physique, but he was actually much warmer than I was, and he was obviously being gentle due to my various injuries. He was quite a bit taller than me, but my head still reached his shoulder. His hair smelled faintly of almond. I think it was from the shampoo in the bathroom.
When he pulled away he was still smiling, and he ruffled my hair again playfully, motioning to the gun in my hand.
"So do you wanna go try it out?"
That was the stupidest question I'd ever heard.