Ebony and Irony

Dawn.

I find it simply amazing how four years could pass, and the light of dawn still comes through his curtain and hits my eyes with some sort of unnatural precision. I found it unnerving how four years have passed, and irony preys on me still, like carrion in the desert. I found it unbelievable how four years passed, and I still have one friend.

In past days, I'd find a friend, and three days later, they'd have either died, or hated me. It absolutely astounded me how I could still have Claudio to stick with me through all of my ironic shit that so often drowned me in my life.

I laid in our bed- mine and Claudio's- and refreshed memories until Claudio started to wake up. Usually, I was first up, and last to sleep, always waking him up or putting him to bed. So I think I surprised him when he found me lying on my back, just laying next to him, obviously conscious.

"Um, Lyd?" he asked, sitting up gingerly next to me, as though he was afraid he'd shatter me into a million glass shards and I'd be gone forever. I let my eyes flicker to his face once, to let him know I'd heard him, before slipping back into a mindless state down memory lane.

10th Birthday:
Claudio bought me my first acoustic guitar, black varnished wood with an inscription on the back of the neck.
"Never let them burn off your wings."
He always calls me his little angel.

12th Birthday.
My golden year, apparently.
Claudio baked me the cake because his parents had to go to the hospital.
His father had an accident.
I sang him Happy Birthday and we watched movies.

14th Birthday, Last Year.
He bought me my first electric.
And laughed when I named it Claude.
I blushed bright pink at his booming laugh, and he kissed my cheek.

"Shh, it's okay," he whispered, wrapping his arms around me as I found myself going through all our birthdays. I turned towards him, and let myself cry. I only did so around him. He rubbed my back like he did when I got sick, and I wrapped an arm around him, hugging him back.

"Sorry. Memories, you know?" I smiled up at him, thinking of last year's birthday, when he turned 16, and I smeared icing on his cheeks. He smiled at my smile, and I hugged him again.

"We get cake today," he reminded me softly, chuckling against my cold face in his warm chest. God, he was getting so old. I was grateful we shared our birthday, though. That way, I'd never be too young to follow behind him, and he'd never be too old for me. He was like a Shepard. I was but a sheep.

"Cake!" I squealed, hugging him tighter and making him laugh even more. "You're getting so old," I told him, sticking out my tongue at him as I pulled away from our hug.

"I'm getting old?" he asked me, getting "outraged" at my statement. "You'll be what, fifteen, Short Stuff?"

"Indeed," I huffed, lifting my nose up and away from him, lips shaking from trying to conceal a huge grin at our goofiness.

"Kids, pancakes!" Mrs. Sanchez called up to us through the stairwell, making us jump up, excited. She made the best pancakes ever, they were to die for.

I quickly rescinded the last thought with worry as Claude stood up, shaking his hair to try and untangle it.

"C'mon," he urged me, smile lighting up his features as he tried to tow me out his door and down to breakfast. Hell, I think he'd have dragged me all the way there if I didn't move within the second.

"Hold on," I told him, willing myself to calm down, and praying to God to not take me seriously. Nothing could happen to the family I loved. Nothing.

He shot me a speculating look, tapping his toe some for humor, while I gained composure and grinned up at him. It was unfair how he was only two years old than me, but towered over me by half a foot.

"Happy Birthday, Claudio," I told him with a smile, kissing his cheek before bounding downstairs to get the most pancakes before him.