Honestly, I don't know what to make of Desmond and I's relationship. And honestly, I don't care. I mean… we met just a few hours ago. Slept a huge part of it. And another big part of it discussing a half-made plan. And we kissed. That's good, right? Perhaps.
But the fact that I'm talking to myself is probably not.
I looked at Desmond. The meeting―I'm going just to call it a meeting―had ended around an hour ago.
Raymond went to fetch Madison for helping us deliver the letter―That we still haven't written―to the King. She had her way with special delivery and no one ever questioned her about her.
Richard also left to bring paper and ink and 'casually' asking people 'what is it that they want more than anything but it isn't necessary but they would love to have it and' blah blah blah. His words, not mine.
Desmond fell asleep on my shoulder. We didn't leave the RR's house and went to sit on the old coach. We talked for maybe thirty to forty minutes and then Desmond fell asleep. Even though he slept most of the day before coming to see the RRs.
I couldn't blame him. It made him look more human if that makes sense. When people get banished to Sick City―if they manage to stay alive―they sleep most of the days away. It's common knowledge that getting banished drains you of energy and even if you aren't tired, you still sleep. Just to skip the days.
Desmond, even though he holds power with his features, is still a seventeen-year-old boy, and getting banished by more people than I have ever seen in the five years that I've been here would be hard for the strongest of people.
In the love stories that Jasmine tells us at the tea house every Sunday when the person looks at their person of interest when that person is sleep, they always find the other one's face peaceful and innocent.
Desmond looked innocent. He always did. But he did not look peaceful. His eyes were tightly shut and he looked uncomfortable. He frowned now and then and mumbled something incoherent. He saw too much and I hated it. I didn't even know what he saw but I still hated it.
I considered waking him up. But he needed to have this in his first days. It's not healthy to run from problems but taking a break and pretending everything's fine now and then won't hurt. It's healthy.
I slowly moved. My hand went up to softly take the back of his neck and with my other hand, I moved him a little so his legs were resting on the couch and his head was now resting on my lap.
I should've done it sooner. He was probably very uncomfortable with his head and body in that position. But I needed to make sure that he was deep in sleep before moving him.
I let my left hand rest around his head and I tangled my right one in his golden hair. His hair was soft and neat. Not the straight kind of neat though. It was the type that tangled and stood up in every direction but still looked neat. That type.
His skin was pale. It was rare for people in the Flame Kingdom to have pale and white skin. The sun is always here and most of the population has tanned skin. Most often a medium brown. There are some people with darker skin on the south side and people with the lighter skin on the north side but still mainly medium.
The Queen had white skin too but her skin wasn't as pale as Desmond's. His was sickly pale. The type of white on a newly made statue that's made of white stone.
Mine was a shade darker than medium brown. I glanced at my hand that was resting on his cheeks, my thumb making an unrecognizable pattern on his cheek. His face looked a little more relaxed now. Almost peaceful. Almost.
It made me smile. The fact that Desmond and I have nothing in common. Not in look. Not in personality. I remember Jasmine's stories. Her characters were the same too. Always different. Always opposite.
When I asked her why, she said, "This way they can help each other grow. They can cover each other's flaws. And one can help the other achieve brilliant things in life that they could never ever think of."
It used to be weird for me, honestly. Wouldn't totally different people fight all the time? But of course, she had an answer for that too. I was fifteen when I asked her this. My second year in Sick City.
She said, "Opposites don't fight all the time." Then she smiled and continued. "Though it doesn't matter if they did. Love is when you fight like there's no tomorrow but know that you will be together at the end of the day. That's love."
I think I may have a chance to experience this with Desmond. I really do.
"What are you thinking about?" I blinked and looked down and saw that Desmond was up and smiling at me. Then I realized that my hand is still on his face. I blushed and his smile widened but his cheeks were red too.
Against all odds, I answered truthfully, "You."