Sometimes, the softest touch carries the heaviest comfort.
I woke up in the morning with a terrible headache. My brain bounced back and forth in my skull as if it wanted to break out from there. My stomach decided to join in the fun, flipping and rolling like it was no tomorrow. Every five minutes, I was clutching my mouth, praying I wouldn't redecorate the bed with dinner.
I took a few deep breaths and massaged my temples, trying to piece together the mess of last night. And let me tell you, it was like trying to remember what happened after a drinking contest with ten bottles of tequila. The images slowly returned to me, like a bad movie you try to block from your memory.
Did I smoke a joint or two last night? There is no fucking way that I would do so much bullshit overnight in my right mind!
I felt something move next to me. The unholy demon cat made my life more damn miserable as it drilled its head into my side and poked me with its nose. I planned to fall asleep again, but when, despite several, threatening growls (which were completely ignored), I sat up in bed cursing.
"May the devil take you!"
The cat, undeterred, stared at me with those giant, unblinking eyes. It probably thought it could communicate telepathically. But I wasn't impressed. It was sitting on my bed like it owned the place. I shoved it off the bed with a grunt. A cat should know its place.
I glanced lazily at the other bed, where Alex was still peacefully snoozing, sprawled out like a human pancake. Lucky bastard.
I rolled out of bed, fumbling under it until I found my cigarette pack. A pack of gum can do wonders, let me tell you. I had to hide my cigarettes because Alex absolutely hated the smell, and if he ever found them, he'd destroy them without a second thought—no concern for my feelings whatsoever.
But the enchanted mistletoe worked like a charm. Every time Alex even sniffed the tobacco smell, the magic would make him forget all about it. It reminded me of a gypsy girl named Luna, and honestly, I was seriously considering becoming a regular.
Back to the point—I'm not a chain smoker, but blood messes me up. Sipping it's fine, but the aftermath? Total disaster. A few drops of the red stuff, and boom, I'm hit with a headache and nausea that could rival the worst hangover. Cigarettes, however, help dull the nausea. At least a little.
I took cautious steps, partly because I felt dizzy, and partly because the demon cat was doing its best to trip me every chance it got. I made my way to the door, determined to get outside and light up. But as soon as I stepped out, my cigarette slipped from my lips.
That day Alex woke up to screaming that strongly resembled the wailing of a banshee.
The wolf bolted in the direction of the sound, clearly concerned, though it would've been hard to blame him. The pitch was so high, that even I had to check if my own voice could hit those notes. Even seconds later, I was just looking at the paper money resting on the top step.
Alex asked what was wrong, but I simply pointed to the piece of paper on the cold concrete. He picked it up, sniffed the air, and I could almost see the gears in his head turning. Even I could faintly smell the gremlin kid's presence. How in the deepest pit of hell did that little shit track me down?
But that wasn't the worst part.
No, that would be when Alex's sharp eyes landed on my cigarettes. Without a word, he grabbed the box from my hands, slammed it to the ground, and then trampled it like he was stamping out a fire. Repeatedly.
Now, I'll admit, my reaction was less than graceful. After the initial shock wore off, my reaction wasn't pretty. Alex didn't say a word, just stood there, quietly absorbing my death glare. Had he done anything else, it might've been the last decision he ever made. I cursed all his ancestors and swore to make him pay for this betrayal, then stormed back into the house.
It took Alex half an hour to gather the courage to follow me. I was sitting on the bed in my room, massaging my temples in an attempt to stave off the headache that came with dealing with him. When I looked up at him, he knew from my killer gaze that now was the time to apply the "put-the-cocoa-down-and-slowly-back-away" strategy.
Later, the classroom hummed with chatter, the bright sunlight creeping in through the windows. I sat slouched in my seat, rubbing my temples, hoping to somehow will the pounding in my skull to stop. The headache from the morning was still wreaking havoc, and all I wanted to do was zone out until it went away.
Then, of course, fate had other plans. The teacher announced the pairings for the next project—me and Jo. I glanced at her as she slid into the seat next to me, all smiles like this task hadn't just ruined my entire morning. She didn't even seem to notice my displeasure.
When I didn't speak, she seemed to catch up.
"Hey, you okay?" she asked, eyeing me with concern.
"I'm fine," I muttered, rubbing my temples again in a futile attempt to ease the pain. "Just a headache."
Jo didn't press the issue. Instead, she opened up our textbook, flipped to the right page, and said, "Well, guess we better get started. I'll handle the intro."
I groaned inwardly. The last thing I wanted to do was read through some literature crap. But I wasn't about to be a jerk, not to Jo, at least.
After a moment of silence, she glanced over at me, raising an eyebrow. "So, are you just gonna sit there, or should I do all the work?"
I froze. If it had been anyone else, anyone who didn't have that sickeningly sweet and innocent tone, I'd have said yes, let her do all the work. I mean, seriously, I was this close to just letting her take the reins. But with Jo, that look on her face, that expectant little tilt of her head, something in me just… snapped.
"Fine," I grumbled, trying not to show just how irritated I was, though I was clearly about to implode from the headache. I opened the book, determined to at least do something.
Jo's face lit up, and she immediately dove into the project. I sat there, trying to focus on the words in front of me, but—of course—I couldn't help but notice her. I kept sneaking glances at her. There was something about the way she worked, something oddly mesmerizing about it. It was… weirdly captivating. And for a moment, I forgot about the headache. I forgot about the stupid assignment. I even forgot about how badly I wanted to crawl back into bed.
I tried to focus on the text again.
She glanced up at me, probably sensing my distraction. "What do you think?" she asked, catching me off guard.
I blinked. "Huh?"
"About the analysis," she said, her voice gentle, still waiting for my input.
I scrambled to gather my thoughts. "Yeah, sure," I muttered, trying to snap back into the present. "Sounds good."
She didn't seem to notice my half-hearted response. Of course, she didn't. She was already flipping to the next page, eyes bright and determined.
I stared at the page in front of me, trying to gather my bearings. But it wasn't easy. Not when she was sitting there next to me. I couldn't explain it. I hated how distracting she was sometimes.
I exhaled slowly, rubbing my temples again. Damn it, I needed to focus.
The presentation itself went off without a hitch. Sure, I wasn't exactly thrilled about standing up in front of the class, especially with my head pounding like someone was playing drums inside my skull, but Jo did most of the talking.
Honestly, I was just relieved it was over. The moment the bell rang, I practically bolted out of my seat. As I gathered my things, Jo, ever the bubbly ray of sunshine, followed me to the door. She had that damn grin on her face again.
"Hey, you did great," she said, slinging her bag over her shoulder.
"Of course," I muttered.
Jo suddenly pulled something out of her bag. "Here," she said, handing me a small candy. "I figured sugar might help with that headache of yours.
I blinked, glancing at the candy in my hand. It looked harmless enough, a little wrapped piece of whatever.
"Don't tell me you're trying to kill me with sugar now," I joked, but I couldn't help the faint smile tugging at my lips.
I unwrapped the candy, popping it into my mouth without a second thought. The taste hit me almost immediately, and I froze, blinking in surprise.
It was exactly the same as the first time Jo gave me candy. The same sweetness, that hint of something familiar I couldn't quite place.
I swallowed and shot her a look, though I couldn't hide the tiny grin creeping onto my face. "You really don't know how to leave me alone, do you?"
Jo chuckled, her eyes lighting up with mischief. "Hey, I'm just looking out for you. Think of it as a form of therapy."
I shook my head but couldn't stop the soft chuckle that escaped. I couldn't deny that the candy had helped, even just a little. I didn't exactly feel great, but I'd take the small victories where I could get them.
Jo just grinned, as if she'd won some small, silent battle, and I found myself too tired to argue anymore. I just stuffed the wrapper of the candy in my pocket and followed her down the hall.
As we walked, the candy still lingering on my tongue, my thoughts drifted back to the past. It had been a while ago, before I'd even started tolerating her presence. Back then, I had barely known her, and honestly, I didn't want to. She was one of those people who just didn't know when to give it a rest—always too cheerful, always there, like a puppy that wouldn't leave you alone, no matter how much you scowled at it.
I was still in the "I-don't-want-anyone-to-talk-to-me" phase. Jo had approached me with that bright grin of hers, completely unbothered by my aura of "leave me the hell alone." And, of course, she had a piece of candy in her hand, like she had it in stock for anyone unlucky enough to cross her path.
She'd come up to me, handed me a piece of candy, and said, "You look like you could use this." I had tried to brush it off—mostly because I wasn't in the mood for sugary anything—but she'd shoved it in my hand anyway, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
I had reservations. And, of course, I hadn't wanted to take it. Humans—I was always a little wary of anything they gave me because I didn't trust them. Not then, not even with something so small.
But Jo, in her typical way, wasn't about to let it go. With that mischievous grin of hers, she'd insisted I take it. But I hadn't wanted to.
Then Jo snatched it back from my hand, popped it into her mouth, and chewed loudly as if to prove some point.
"There," she said with a triumphant grin, chewing slowly. "See? You did want it."
I blinked, utterly shocked at her audacity. But before I could even form a proper response, she fished around in her bag and, without skipping a beat, pulled out another candy. This time, she waved it in front of my face, her eyes twinkling with mischief.
"Here," she said, dangling it teasingly in front of me. "I know you're not about to let me win twice."
I stared at the candy. Is this human girl insane?
She was already grinning as if daring me to say no again. Without further protest, I took it from her, my eyes still on her face, still caught off guard by her boldness. She watched me for a moment longer before finally giving a satisfied nod.
I had taken the candy from Jo, thinking I'd just toss it later. It wasn't that I had a problem with candy; it was more about the gesture, the suddenness of it, and, well, the fact that it came from a human.
As I sat on my bench later, I stared at the red wrapper in my hands, unblinking. It was a strange sensation. There I was, holding something I was sure I would just discard... but for some reason, I couldn't make myself do it. My thoughts drifted, unwilling to focus on anything else. It was just candy. But in my mind, I couldn't escape the feeling that Jo's little gesture meant something, and I couldn't explain why it bothered me so much.
It wasn't even about the candy anymore. It was about the other candy I remembered—something from long ago. There had been only one human who had ever given me sweets before. I hadn't even thought of it in ages, but now the memory hit me hard. I remembered that human, their face so familiar to me. And, unlike most humans, I had... liked them. Not just liked, but trusted. They had always known just what I needed, just how to make me feel... safe.
The red wrapper in my hands felt heavier now. With a frustrated sigh, I crinkled it between my fingers. Finally, I tore the wrapper open and popped it into my mouth, the taste flooding me in an unexpected rush.
I chewed the candy, the familiar sweetness flooding my senses. It was just candy. Nothing more. But I couldn't shake the feeling that Jo, in her own weird way, had just crossed some line I hadn't even realized was there.
I came back to the present, the brief flash of memory fading as Jo kept talking beside me. I looked at her for a second, trying to get my bearings. She was already in the process of dragging me to our bench. We settled on there, her voice still chattering away, but I was stuck in my own thoughts, the throbbing pressure in my skull demanding my attention.
"Are you sure you want to be here?" I muttered, rubbing my temple again. "I'm not exactly at my best right now."
Jo didn't even pause her rambling, as if she was used to my half-hearted complaints. "Of course. Besides," she added with a playful grin, "I'm here to keep you company. Plus, the bench is so much better when you're not by yourself."
I half-smiled, even though I was still feeling like my head might explode. I flopped back against the bench, feeling the cool wood press against my back, trying to ignore the discomfort.
"Want me to massage your head? I can help with the pain a little."
I blinked at her, caught off guard.
She just looked at me with that warm glint in her eyes. "What? I'm good at it, promise."
I should've said no, I really should've. But instead, I found myself saying, "Fine, go ahead," a little more reluctantly than I'd like to admit.
She didn't waste a second. Her hands were suddenly at my temples, her touch surprisingly gentle, working the tension out of my skull. I should've been uncomfortable, should've made a joke about it, or pulled away. But I didn't. Instead, I let her work, the soft pressure helping more than I expected.
I didn't say anything, just closed my eyes and let myself focus on her hands. It wasn't bad—actually, it felt kind of good.
Then, in the middle of it, Jo suddenly paused, her fingers lingering against my skin as she admitted, "Okay, I lied."
I frowned, not opening my eyes. "What?"
She hesitated for a second, then let out a small laugh, the sound a little too bright considering the situation. "This is actually the first time I've ever given a head massage. I just kind of... figured it might work."
I couldn't help the smirk that tugged at my lips, despite the headache. "So, I'm your guinea pig?"
"Pretty much," she replied easily, clearly not bothered by the fact that she'd just made the whole thing up on the spot. "But I think I'm doing okay, right?"
I opened my eyes just slightly to glance at her. There she was, looking completely unbothered, and I could see a little bit of pride in her expression, like she was genuinely hoping she was doing a good job.
I rolled my eyes but decided to let her continue. "You're lucky this is actually helping," I muttered, half teasing, half serious.
Jo's smile widened, and she gave a little playful nudge to my side. "See? You can trust me."
And even though she'd lied about the whole thing, I found myself strangely okay with it. Her heartbeat had given her away anyway. The quickened rhythm, the subtle shift in the air around her—it wasn't hard to tell that she was lying.
As her fingers continued their work, I found myself focusing on the odd but undeniable warmth of her touch. I wasn't used to the warmth humans carried, the way their skin could hold so much heat. Human touch had always been a strange thing to me. There was something about it that was both foreign and... oddly comforting.
Her warmth felt... like it could seep into me and expose everything I tried to keep hidden. But with Jo, the warmth of her hand against my skin wasn't unsettling. It was steady, like a heartbeat, like the way the sun feels when it hits your skin in the early morning—gentle, not overwhelming, but real.
It was peculiar, how something so simple could stir up so many thoughts. How a touch could bring a sense of calm, despite everything inside me urging to pull away.
I caught the scent of soap lingering in the air, soft and clean, the smell wrapping around me as if her presence was imprinted in the air itself. Her skin had this unique essence, a scent that wasn't just soap but something personal, something that belonged to her. It filled my nose, something fresh but earthy, like a mix of the outdoors with just a hint of something flowery. It wasn't overwhelming, but it was there, clinging to her hands, to the space around her.
I felt her hands start to slow, the pressure of her fingers lessening as they grew tired. It was clear she was starting to feel the strain. I hadn't said anything, though—honestly, I wasn't sure if I wanted her to stop.
But then, just as I sensed her preparing to pull her hands away, I reached out, catching one of her wrists before she could move. I held it gently, almost like I was afraid she'd slip away from me. Without saying a word, I guided her hand and placed it over my eyes.
Her fingers trembled slightly as they touched my skin. I could feel the warmth of her touch seeping through, the softness of her palm pressing against my eyelids, blocking out the harsh light of the world. The sudden silence, the stillness in the air, made everything else fade into the background for a moment.
"Just for a little longer," I murmured, my voice quieter than usual.
It wasn't about the headache anymore. It wasn't about anything other than the strange comfort of her hand on my face. There was something about it—something about her—that made me want to keep this moment alive for just a bit more.