I do not own I Think We're alone Now.
It is just absolute perfection and I love it.
Home Becomes You
Grace is the Tower Princess, Del is Soft Ogre
So scared, he had been so scared.
After two years, so scared.
Convinced everyone else was dead, gone, forever.
Although it would make sense.
I survived.
Others might have.
But no one.
Two years.
And what if . . . what if . . .
What if they were crazy or dangerous, what if they tried to kill him, what if they tried to hurt him.
What if they pointed and laughed.
Two years he had wrapped himself in a shroud of isolation and singularity.
He had gotten quite comfortable in it, quite used to it.
It wasn't ideal, of course.
But then again, his life never had been.
So he managed.
He adapted.
He lived.
And then . . .
"I wanna stay."
. . . there came her.
He takes her back home.
Not her home, the house she had crashed in front of.
His home.
Not the home he had been raised in, the home he had waited to clean until last.
That place of sorrow and loss, no.
The library.
That place of quiet and solitude.
That place of organization and peace.
He takes her there.
Gives her his bed.
Where he can look after her while she rests and heals.
He leaves her the walkie talkie when she's resting and he needs or wants to go roam the library.
Find a particular book to read aloud to her.
Clean up the mess he had made in his last desperate, furious vexation.
He sleeps in a pallet on the floor in the room next to her.
Eager to be close, respectful of her personal space.
Or . . .
". . . don't leave me alone. Please. If it's okay."
. . . next to her when she asks him to.
Curled up behind her, hand light upon her side if she needs contact.
Face lost in the fall of her blond hair.
He does not blast his earphones, shut himself out from a world he did not care to acknowledge.
But he does let her.
Or . . .
" . . . cried some bad tears . . . "
. . . right out there in the open if she prefers.
Just like . . .
". . . out, I'm comin' . . ."
. . . before.
I'm just going to post because it's fun.
And it'll be erratic, a jump around of things.
Because that's what life is sometimes.
Messy.
And that's what Grace brought to Del.