Chapter 3
Cloaked Comfort
Last Scene
"David, Dana. Don't mind me." I did not bother to look at him again.
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The sound of crickets is all that could be heard...
I woke up in the middle of the dark black night, thirsty for water. Why is it hot even in a room with an air-conditioner? Maybe, I'll change into thin pajamas later. I can hear random noises that kinda' creeps me out. I felt the coldness of the cemented floor as my feet landed on the ground. Initially planning to get a few sips and yet I forgot to do so. Completely chained to the walls of the room like a prisoner of a police station, I caught on soft but firm murmurs.
It overcame my senses that instead of taking a good o' drink, I sashayed towards the gray linens of his mattress. Sounds of the squeaky bed every now and then can be heard the low whimpers were from a resting Sade. He went on and on with his tiny little whisps coming from his full luscious lips. He is saying something as if talking to someone that I don't see nor hear. The foreign language that he spoke in his nightmare is all that I can focus on.
I went near his dull-hued sheets with gentle steps, quiet and steady, not wanting to make any unnecessary sounds as much as possible. He looks so peaceful in a way yet disturbed in another. Does that even make sense? Appears like an angel from thy heaven but forced to be a devil of the slums of hell. What kind of facade is that you truly have, Mr. Pirouette?
Through the not so transparent, more or less foggy Clerestory windows, the dim glint passed from the moon alongside the stars, rendering a faint light source for his face. Adoring his visuals thoroughly, from his furrowed thick eyebrows to his pointed nose, next to his slightly flushed cheeks, his pointing lips then down to his finely chiseled jaw, slowly being bewitched by it, not until a bead of tear escaped from his double-lid eyes of ebony tint within its deep, deep abyss of darkness.
I was not able to realize my deed in enough time when my fingers flew by itself slowly towards the inzy winzy teardrop and motioned to wipe it away. The thought of removing something from him with a rub from my hand is quite enticing and thrilling.
But before anything else, I felt a hand held my wrist and a whisper was heard, "What are you trying to do?" His voice boomed across the space within our room.
As if on cue I jounced off of his bed then replied, "N—nothing."
I felt galloping horses occupying my chest, running real fast. Thudding and thumping almost bursting. I felt it pounding as if ready to come out. It came across like cars are racing wildly as if trying to reach the finish line.
"Don't ever touch my face again," he hissed out of nowhere. Another set of words but, "Because it gives me chills." I was not able to catch up with the latter part of his statement.
"Uh—" I stuttered even before answering him. "Again, sorry. I was just worried. You were crying and I just wanted to flick that tear away! I did not plan any harm. Promise—" My words stammer continuously as my lips tremble in tremor.
"Tss," he paused making his phrases hang, "Just remember to k—keep space between the both of us." I don't know if I heard it right? He stammered mid-sentence. Why would he, anyway? That was just my wide imagination, perhaps. He doubtlessly and most conceivably won't.
"N—noted," I mumbled, almost under my breath. My voice hitched as I observe the reflected glow from the night sky with its visible celestial bodies.
Then he confided, "And please do not act as if we're close, 'cause we aren't, even a bit." The said reflection of gleam refracted as it bounces towards a prism-like material built within the windows.
I refused to reply albeit, I just nodded in return.
Then he went out of the room with an ambiance of swag. Even though he's kind of grumpy earlier. He still looked cool, literally cold, though.
Fulfilling my earlier wishes, I altered into a pair of rosy to red pajamas delicate fabric. Mind you, it's personally hand made. You ask why? Just because my body as a lass is really small. And when I say really, I mean it. To the point that the tiniest size of clothes for my age is still ginormous on me. That's why I was still young when I've learned to weave my own apparel. Well, at first, of course, my mom was the one doing all of that but eventually, I found out how to do so. And up to this date, even if I am no longer in need of smaller garments, and not that I grew so much, but my old skit became a permanent, addictive habit.
As I finish wearing a different outfit, I grabbed my pink-ish, fluffy bunny flip-flops. Then, I also went out but in contrast with his direction, I edged to the main door to catch some delicate air. It was another intense conversation in such a small amount of time. What an odd day, huh?
I closed the door real slow so that I won't disturb anyone's inner peace, further. I strolled freely with hands in the air, feeling the fresh nightly cinch. My eyes closed, as I envisage a far-fetched dream of going to space and discovering something new. Weird, right? It's as if my spirit is screaming for the bright moon with it's borrowed lamp from the radiant stars.
My eyes wandered throughout the dark and mysterious night sky, full of stars shining across its meadows, with the moon kissing all my worries goodbye while the sleepy clouds play hide and seek with each one of them. They sparkle for my mere existence. Oh, how I love the night, I really do and nothing can change that fact. I've been a selenophile since I was a child but I also came to love the stars. I just love how they complement each other's corporeality. While my own nocturnal personality supplements their subsistence. While brother nature strums his guitar to lul them all together, to coerce them into a delightful tune that gives respite to one's entity, that bestows relaxation towards one's ears.
With feet moving on its own, I found myself going towards a forest area. It feels like the breeze is hushing all the sounds but at the same time accompanies them. Music is what I hear, the gushing river-like structure, emplaced in the middle of the mini forestland of the school. The leaves chink to its content with every footstep I take. Birds are chirping from somewhere near. With all that in just one sitting, it felt like a whole ensemble is here to entertain me.
Harsh breaking of dead leaves echoed, "Where do you think you're going?" I heard him questioned.
I snapped out of my fantasies when someone spoke from behind.
"Just a peek in the woods," I acknowledged unfaced.
"Peril will greet you with that decision of yours. You don't even have a flashlight, missy. It really is not recommended to go."
Fully aware of what I am doing, I continued walking. The cracking of dried leaves resonates in each step I take.
"Don't worry I'll be fine. I was just mesmerized with all this."
"I'm not worried, at all. It's just that I would be in charge of what'll happen to your well-being. I don't want any other responsibilities."
That hit me real hard. Of course, he won't even blink if I was in danger.
"U—uh, yeah I was just checking out the view. Sorry for the bother."
"Did you, perhaps take a liking with astronomical matters?" That was close enough.
"Well, a little bit..." I scratched my head in a skittish manner. He then held onto my wrist then pulled me into a run. I don't know where we're going but I didn't care less.
He stopped at an old cream Italian style three-storey building with its own bell tower. Exhibiting creative ostentation, a joyous use of polychromy, and sinuous curves.
It might be an old office back when I was still not here. Upfront is a huge worn-out entrance. Opening it felt so harsh on the ears. We were entranced by a fancy-looking stairway, towards a timber door with various ornaments that made it look more vivid. The sofas and other furniture like slabs were covered with icky dusty plain white textile. Even the luring classic grand wooden stair that was seated on the center of the first phase of the establishment was also stained with muck. We ascended using the said plane before we were able to reach the utmost level.
And oh my gilly golly gosh! I loved the vibes from up here. It felt so fresh, too surreal. I was busy and enthusiastically ideating the extravagant outlook of the city lights with the presence of the moon when I heard a fake cough as if calling for one's attention. Then I turn to seek a more scrutinizing work of art, my idol was there, looking all handsome.
"Is the oversee fine by you?" he asked out of nowhere while his dark brooding eyes were on me
I gazed at the luminous astral bodies across the starry night.
"Do you really need to ask that? It certainly is!" I said in a giddy manner. "I love this place already!" I exclaimed tactlessly, "Thanks to you, Mr. Pirouette."
What a nice place to stop by. I'll be glad to go here, again if ever I had the time to do so.
"Stop with the formalities I have a name, nit-wit." He ordered.
"Coming from someone who called me 'nit-wit,'" I mocked by using the tone he used to say that word.
"What the fuck? I don't even sound like that!" He halted then continued to defend his sleeves.
"Well of course you did, Mr. Darren," I returned, kiddingly.
"No, I didn't," he refused profusely as he sulked up to his heart's content.
"Alright, alright you win, I surrender." Waving the invisible white flag, I raised my hand as a whiff of loss.
"Good—tss," pissed-off, he muttered coldly and was accompanied by a conceited snicker.
I really don't judge but I really had comfort talking to him even in this way.
I, then let my mind wander at its own desire as the cold breeze blows my luscious ebony black hair, same as the trees' swaying. Nothing, to say no more, I let the wind touch my face as if kissing me to sleep.
It was not that bad to have him beside me, and with that attitude of his. Stargazing with my idol? That was a huge opportunity but might have been better without his bad temper, his always furrowed brows, creased forehead, irritated expression, his clenching jaw, his creepy yet beautiful dark eyes, his almost yawning mouth when looking as my being, the oh, so normal me.
Our feet passed by the empty hallways as we exit the enchanting abandoned building with all of its tons of dust that did not even ruin the beauty of its premises.
"Not bad? Who knows the future? It might be your best being unfolded. Butterflies will doubtlessly swarm on your pitiful stomach," the unheard voice of kismet signaled.