Ryder clipped off the dirtied curls then stepped back to inspect his work. It was far from what he'd have normally done but he found himself obsessing over the thick lashes which made the haircut look unkempt therefore increased the vagueness of the stranger's imperfections. It needed to be clipped off too, yes, get rid of the unwanted thing.
Still, a part of him nudged his resolve on. As much as he'd have loved grieving over a shattered solitude, the stranger's vulnerability even while asleep was something hard to contend with.
Face It, Ryder, this man will grow on you.
Someplace between organizing his thoughts, fierce blue eyes snapped open, startling him. Anger settled in their bright depths but softened. "What the fuck are you up to?"
Ryder wanted to lie because it'd be much easier that way and probably calm the pounding in his heart. But he muttered nothingless. "Giving you a haircut."
His eyes trailed down, Ryder waited — frozen in place as his whole figure was taken in. He struggled to sit up but sank back like an overstuffed pillow. "That's creepy."
He looked displeased, as though it pained him to be weak. "Where's your phone?"
"On the table," Ryder pointed to the farthest corner of the room. "I promised not to call anyone and it's dead by the way if that'll make you feel better."
"What do you have in mind? Why did you bring me here??"
"I have a couple of reasons. To save you for one."
"I don't deserve to live."
"You do. Dying is not a choice."
"You know nothing." he stared past him, settling on the bursting flames.
"Everyone deserves a second chance in living."
He sighed, slinging an arm over his eyes to conceal them. "I feel terrible. How long have I been out?"
"A couple of hours." Ryder pushed the scissors aside and sat up. "You look better than the first time I brought you in here. I was afraid you won't live."
"That didn't scare, you did it? You'd not prefer me gone and not be a burden to deal with?? I'd be good as any problem solved."
"That's not the fate you deserve. You've done nothing." of course Ryder didn't find this appropriate enough but it was what he had in mind at that moment.
The reality of the gun and deep slash scared him. Who knew who this stranger might be?
A murderer?
Is someone homicidal??
A serial killer???
"Who the fuck are you again?" the firm rumbly voice dragged Ryder out of his mind.
"Ryder Ferris. I'm against swears if you don't know, it doesn't suit you."
"How would you know that? You barely know who I am or what I can do."
"True. But I read a lot of books." Ryder bothered to reach out and pull open the top shelf. "These are my latest collection."
"You don't say," he rolled his eyes at him before shutting his eyes momentarily as though recollecting something.
"And you're?" Ryder buzzed.
"Call me J."
"J? But that's a letter."
"It's my name." he opened his eyes again, his aura filling the small room. Ryder felt stung, his eyes were simply impossible.
"I do like sitting up. It sucks to lay in bed all day staring up at the ceiling and listening to you talk."
"You'd get used to the feeling." Ryder patted his shoulder softly. "A few days here won't kill ya."
A brief silence ensued. "You don't strike me particularly as a doctor, and I bet you're half my age."
"No, I'm not. I'm not that young."
"Surprise me."
"Nineteen and a few months."
"I still think that's young. I'm twenty-three."
Now, Ryder felt threatened in a silly sort of way. He'd always dreaded staying with a man but never believed that such a day could come. Although the conversation so far had been light, nothing too mild, he couldn't help waiting for the stranger to spring up and throttle him.
It was a far-fetched thought but nothing happened. The room was plunged in a tiring tension which increased the moments he took to admire the stranger's strong features.
"I'd still like to know your name. I can't call you after an alphabet."
"Give me one."
"What?"
"I said give me one," he emphasized each word, his stare turning dark with stormy clouds clashing with blue skies.
Ryder posed, thoughtful for a moment. It was something he least expected. "I'll call you Jacob."
"Why Jacob? Couldn't it be something more exciting or fitting..."
"Jacob, because I feel it fits your face and attitude. It also starts with the letter J."
The living rang once more with his deep rumbling laughter. One which Ryder feared would pull the roof down with it. "You're good at creeping me out. It's hard not to like you for that."
Ryder smiled — a small warm one laced with gratitude. Even if he didn't know much about this man, he was prepared to make do with the singular favor of being appreciated.
It was just a little thing that never happened often.