Chapter 2: A Contract

The lightest chapter you will see for a while, or maybe ever. Drink it in. I'm not super good at writing fluffier stuff, but I'll try my best.

I kinda have no idea what's going on with my tenses, but honestly I like it so I'm not gonna bother to fix it. Brownie points if you see the darker things going on in this scene.

I listened to Youth by Glass Animals while writing this.

Brandon

12 weeks after events of chapter 1

It was movie time, and Horace had begun setting up. I don't feel comfortable with the prophetic dreams, they tended to be personally intrusive to people, and I had more things to hide now than I did when I had first come here. Despite this, I trust Horace. I know Horace wouldn't ever embarrass someone on purpose, but he can't control his dreams.

Fortunately, it was the usual tailor-visiting dream. This time it was a tan corduroy suit, which isn't typically his style. I always appreciate the value Horace places on quality, it's something that isn't seen nearly as often from when I was raised.

I haven't grown tired of the couch that I sit on for movies. It's very low setting and soft, just how I like it. I always thought it is funny how the raised embossed design left a stamp like mark on the back of my legs when I wear shorts. I've become very possessive of my place on it too. I sit closest to the fireplace, which means it's always warm.

The dream finished. Millard made some comment on it, but I wasn't paying attention today. Besides, I can't imagine I missed any important plot on Horace TV today. I pulled one of my legs up onto the couch as everyone was leaving. I put my knee close to my chest and rested both my hands on it. Enoch, who is beside me, did the opposite and put both his feet on the ground, leaned forward, and interlaced his fingers while his elbows rested on his thighs.

Even though everyone had left the room, including Millard, I made sure, we still didn't say anything to each other.

"Oh man," I said exasperated at the silence, "This is so stupid isn't it. I can't even think of what to say, that's pretty pathetic."

"You're fine," He replied quietly with his trademark emotionless tone. He never raised his head from between his arms.

I sighed loudly. I still didn't know what to say.

I thought about the past few weeks. I knew it was obvious Enoch liked me, and I thought I made it pretty obvious that I liked him too. But, I have no idea how he is feeling right now. Maybe I didn't make it obvious, and that's why he's so nervous. I am pretty bad at expressing feelings seriously. Enoch isn't good at interpreting feelings either. He's also from a whole other culture, maybe he doesn't feel comfortable with himself even liking me.

Last night, he slipped a note under my door asking me to stay after the movie today. I thought it was endearing he had no idea how to ask me in person, but I should've seen this situation coming.

His foot started tapping and he was unlacing and re-lacing his fingers. I'm going to have to be the one to start this. I tentatively started to say something, "So, why did you want me to come here?"

That was really stupid for me to say, I thought to myself, we both know exactly why. I'm going to scare him off.

I tried to quickly rectify my mistake, "Damn it, that was- that was really stupid to ask. Please don't take it the wrong way." I desperately searched for words.

He lowered himself a little lower into his hunched over position. Fed up with the tensions, I put my hand on his shoulder and forced him into an upright position, "Hey, relax a minute." He avoided eye contact still but grinned slightly.

"So you already know why I want to talk?"

"I would be seriously challenged if I didn't."

"Is it that bad?"

"Bad."

"Like bad bad?"

"Probably not that bad. I think I'm the only one who caught wind," I realized what he was doing, "Now stop stalling, buddy."

"Hey, you know, I'm just not used to this stuff."

"Yea, and?"

"I," He lingered on the word.

"Love me?" I taunted.

"I don't love you!"

"But, you like me. There, I said it for you."

"Well, ye-"

I cut him off, "And I like you too."

"You do?" Relief cut through his voice.

"I thought I made it pretty obvious, honestly."

"You don't think that's like, weird?"

"Not at all."

He finally made eye contact with me. My head casted a shadow across half his face. His left eye though, caught the reflection of the fireplace perfectly. I relaxed back into the arm of the couch, causing his whole face to be illuminated, "Yea, in fact, I think it's pretty sweet." I got no signals from him at all, just a blank stare with his mouth slightly open. "So why do you like me?"

"I could ask you the same thing."

"Well for starters, your eyebrows are really nice." He didn't think it was very funny, but it also wasn't really a joke.

I must have successfully reversed the tables back as he answered my questions, "I really appreciate how you just," he paused for a moment looking for the correct word, "swagger through everything. It's like you just go into a situation thinking that you'll come out on top. And then, you usually do come out on top."

"I think I'm coming out on top of this situation pretty nicely."

He smiled at my comment, "When you said that you appreciate what I do, I fell. You know? No one ever thinks what I can do is cool or they think its creepy. I've never felt like," another pause and another search for words, "romantic feelings, I guess, for a guy. I didn't know how to go about it. I was a total train wreck when I wasn't around anyone."

"To be frank, you still really don't know how to go about it."

"There's a learning curve with everything I guess."

There was a new break of silence, but this one was intentional. We just sat beside one another, looking at each other's faces.

Words drifted out of my mouth, "I think you look really cute in this light. It fits you."

He didn't really know how to respond besides his face turning red.

I started to grab his hand, "So, reasons I like you? You seriously fit my definition of hot. Your face is perfect, your jawline is just soft enough, your lips are in a constant pouty frown. You're not skinny, not muscular, not fat, just right. Your hair just soft, and full," I started to slow down and draw out my words, "You're so smart. You're reclusive, but can still be friendly," I examined his face. His eyebrows really are perfect; they are scrunched up on his expression. His face went incarnadine. He was licking his lips, so his mouth must be running dry. His breathing is heavier than the crackle of the fire. His hand is soft and sweaty, unlike mine which are rough and drier than they should be. He smelled slightly like cut grass. He didn't dare look me in the eye right now. I picked back up, "You have just enough mystery for me to be curious and not intimidated," I leaned closer toward his ear, "I think its sexy how you treat things with so little emotion."

I unclasped my hand from his and brought it to turn his face towards mine. I forced him to where he had to look me in the eye. I ran my thumb across his cheek and leaned in. My wet lips touched his dry lips. I gently forced it into a kiss, where he put in very little effort. Sensing how he wasn't totally comfortable with the situation, I didn't make it into anything more. I pulled away slowly, make sure to feel his heavy breath hit my bottom lip.

"We'll find some more time to talk tomorrow," I said as I hoisted myself off the couch.

"Yea," he replied, trying, but failing, to use his trademark emotionless tone.