Pretty Bird

For the first time since we had come home from London, the dust was finally beginning to settle...sort of. I had accepted the fact that Blake was not going to call me back; it had been 2 weeks and still, nothing. I hadn't driven by his place, I hadn't asked Curtis how he was, I just gave him space. It was scary, leaving him alone in the grasps of Alena like that, but I finally let Lee's advice sink in. Forcing Blake to do anything was not going to end up going in my favor. He was a grown man, I couldn't tell him what to do no matter how good my intentions were. After sitting there on Holly's couch, pouring out all of my awkward, over emotional feelings over chocolate chip ice cream and Drew Barrymore movies, I had decided to just let it off my mind- Blake would come to me when he was ready. Hopefully, it would be soon. At least Curtis was doing alright. He had told Holly that Blake was becoming 'too weird', and soon Curtis and Holly were becoming more and more attached at the hip. It was cute, and I loved seeing them together. It didn't warm my heart as much as being around Oliver did, though. He was still the brightest star in my sky.

Somehow, through all the drama and all of the events of the past few months, the Fall season designs of Drop Dead dropped, and the response was going particularly well. There was still so much work to do; technical stuff, business transactions, shipping problems. A new store in Germany was going to begin selling Drop Dead products, so more and more phone calls were being made to Berlin than I would have liked. Whenever I saw a German number pop up on our caller ID, I could literally feel my stomach sinking inside my body as if I had swallowed a 10 pound weight. Oliver would always just give me an odd glance and pick up the phone, greeting his new buyers. Even if it was literally impossible for my parents to contact me, I knew that they lived in Berlin. In fact, I had their address, stashed away in one of my folders on my laptop, just in case I ever truly needed to reach them. At this point though, all they were to me were a collection of stale, grey memories. Remembering them was like my brain sifting through a thick stack of polaroids. They were there, but they were hollow and static, their smiles fake and their actions posed. I hadn't really known my parents way before Evan was diagnosed, and they hadn't known me ever since they chose to ignore me.

Tom and Caroline were also going through their own issues. Luckily for Oliver and I, Caroline demanded much less of us after my epic freak out on her. Its not like I would have wanted to be there anyways, the girl had gone from annoying me to just completely freaking me out. What she had said sat in my head for a few days, weighing heavily whenever my mind rested. She did what she had to do? Get pregnant? What 18 year old girl needs to get pregnant?

Only the crazy kind.

Now though, we were no longer needed, especially with Ian and Carol finally finding out about their expected grand child. Oliver and I both were relieved that we were able to focus on our own lives again, but we still worried for Tom. He worked for Drop Dead too, doing ordering and shipping issues. With the new fall line just having dropped, and his completely insane girlfriend screaming all the time, I was surprised he didn't just snap. His parents apparently gave him lots of shit about it too. Oliver told me that Carol had called him, only to bitch about how or why Tom could be so irresponsible and so careless. If Oliver was complaining about it, it was definitely a terribly long, arduous bitching session.

Tom had been making regular appearances at Oliver and my flat now for a few weeks, just collapsing onto the couch and closing his eyes, talking to us and getting his peace and quiet. His baby blues weren’t as vibrant as they used to be, and he seemed to be moving as if he was in slow motion; exhaustion was definitely getting to him. We obviously enjoyed his company, though. He kept us up to date on the baby. The baby was more than a little sea monkey now though; the little Mini Sykes was now 16 weeks old, and apparently, according to ultrasound, was 4 inches long and had toenails. Every appointment, Tom would come over, looking more perked up than usually, giving us some new tidbit about his child. "It has fingerprints now!" "It can suck its thumb now!" He would give us an ultrasound picture then, and beam proudly; it was adorable to see him so excited. I had made it a point to put each ultrasound picture in chronological order on the fridge, starting with week 12, and now to week 16.

"So," Tom started immediately as he walked through the front door, removing his damp coat. "We get to find out if its a boy or a girl next time."

"That's excellent!" I closed the door behind him, letting in a gust of rain soaked wind. "What do you think it'll be?"

"It'll be nice to not have to call the baby 'it' anymore." Oliver laughed, sitting at the kitchen table, eating some cereal. "It seems kind of demeaning, doesn't it?"

"Well, I didn't want to jinx it!" Tom reasoned, taking up his normal position on our couch. I took the loveseat, so I could get a good view of both of the boys. "What if we called it a 'he' and it ended up being a girl? That's kind of offensive, don't you think? Besides, Caroline says its best to not form any kind of emotional attachment as far as when gender you want it to be."

"So you have no preference?" I asked. Tom shrugged, looking down at his hands and then back at me. "I mean, Aubrey is adorable. But it would be cool to have a son. Someone to teach how to do things that girls usually don't want to do."

"And, if its a girl, you'd have to beat the boys off of her with a stick. At least Uncle Oli would, anyways." Oliver smiled mischievously, taking a huge bite of cereal. He had began to refer to himself as 'Uncle Oli' whenever the baby was being talked about, usually making some awkward joke about teaching either his future nephew how to pick up girls, or his future niece how to stay away from boys.

"Well, if she meets a boy like you, I'll definitely chase him off." Tom smirked at his older brother.

Oliver looked offended for about 3 seconds, before shrugging and getting out of his chair, taking his bowl into the kitchen. "That would be smart of you, you know. I'm a lucky one for not ending up with some slutty piece of trash."

"Oh hush, Oliver." I sighed, rolling my eyes and giving Tom a small smile. "When's the appointment?"

"Next Tuesday. I'm excited." Tom replied, just as the house telephone began to ring.

Oliver dashed out of the kitchen, picking up the phone off its base in mid stride. "Hello?" He answered, before turning to me and mouthing the word 'Germany'.

I let my stomach drop for only an instant, before remembering Tom. "We all are, Baby Sykes."

He smiled wide, stretching his arms high over his head before letting them fall back into his lap. "Caroline's definitely looking pregnant now too."

"She's fat?" I asked, covering my mouth as soon as the words popped out. My eyes were wide as I stared at Tom, hoping to God I didn't offend him.

He just shrugged though, as mellow as ever. "Not fat, but pregnant. She hates wearing jeans now and just lives in sweats. She's been shopping with her mum a few times to buy bigger clothes. She's asked me to go as well, but shopping like that is killer."

"Yeah, I know." I laughed a little, trying to cheer up Tom's declining demeanor. "She should know her limits when asking for things like that."

Tom just rolled his big blue eyes. "Caroline? Limits? Do you know the bird?"

"Yeah, but doesn't mean I can't hope? Right?"

"Trust me, wishing and hoping only gets you so far." His hands reached up from his lap and ran over his face, and through his head, his eyes closed.

"What do you mean?"

"Christian," He sighed, his eyes opening and focused right on me. "I never wanted this to happen."

"Well, hopefully you didn't want a baby at like, 18." I gave him a small smile, my pathetic attempt to lighten the mood.

"No, I mean. I never even really wanted to be with her. I did at first, she was cute. And she made me laugh. But she's just....exhausting. Even without being pregnant. When that happen, it was like I felt trapped...not happy." He sighed again, coming forward out of his seat and resting his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands. "And now that I like, see the baby, and its real, and this is going to be my life, forever...I feel happy on one end, I love this kid even though I've haven't even held it yet, but I'm just beginning to really hate it's mother." He lifted his head out of his hands and looked at me again, his eyes getting shiny and bright-the telltale signs of tears.

"Please don't cry." I croaked, getting off of the loveseat and sitting on the couch next to him, my hand rubbing his back lightly. "Everything is going to work out fine. You are going to get a perfect little baby out of this thing that will always love you."

"That's what Caroline said!" He sighed, exasperated. "She said that the baby will love us forever. That we will always have it in common."

"She said that?" My hand stopped moving in circles on his back. "Seriously?"

Tom nodded, wiping his eyes. "I hate her, Christian. And this is the first time I can admit it."

I didn't respond, just pulled Tom to me in a side hug, my hand wrapping around his back. We stayed like that for a while, Tom just staring down at the ground and wiping his eyes every few minutes, even though he was making no crying noises. I heard Oliver, still talking on the phone in the bedroom, even if the door was closed. Tom and I were completely silent, and I'm sure he preferred it that way. Tom was an incredibly private person, crying in front of anyone is definitely not his style, let alone any guy's.

All of a sudden, the silence was broken with Oliver slamming the bedroom door open, completely unaware of the state his brother was in.

"So, Germany apparently wants us to ship by November 15th. What the fuck? Do they know what date it i-Tom? What the hell?"

I just stared at Oliver, motioning for him to go into the kitchen, put the phone back, and stay there. Oliver wasn't the bed at comforting Tom, at all. He had classic big brother syndrome; he was better at making fun than being constructive.

"I need to go." Tom said as he wiped his nose with his hand, drying his eyes one last time. "Caroline expects me home before 6."

"What happened?" Oliver asked, completely ignoring me. I rolled my eyes as he stuffed his hand into the pocket of his jeans.

"Nothing, Oli." Tom muttered as he got up and walked past his brother, grabbing his coat off of the rack.

I gave Oliver a more serious glare, finally conveying to him the message. Oliver raised his eyebrows, before turning and walking into the kitchen, putting the phone on the base.

"Come over whenever you need to, Tom." I whispered as he put his arm through the hole in his coat, ready to leave. He turned to me and nodded as he opened the front door, stepping out into the freezing rain.

I closed the door after him, before turning so my back was against it. I took a deep breath, and closed my eyes.

"What in bloody hell was that?" Oliver exclaimed, coming out of the kitchen, his voice high and slightly annoyed.

"That..." I opened my eyes, staring at Oliver with worried eyes. "Was the beginning of the end. That baby will never have a stable home life."

______________________________________

Even though I was a transplant in England, something that came abnormally easy to me was learning how to drive here. There were weird traffic signs, 'roundabouts', and of course, the whole wrong side of the road thing. It took a few weeks though, of Oliver laughing at me and me becoming more and more determined, but eventually, I was able to drive just as well as anyone else. It was nice not having to be known at the 'stupid American' anyways.

The ride to Tesco from the flat was nothing too serious or dangerous. In fact, it was only a few blocks away from Blake's flat. I successfully avoided the need to check on him though, driving right past the turn to get onto his street, and continuing on. The first thing I did when I got into the car was take Oliver's obnoxious Glassjaw CD out of the stereo, and replaced it with Brand New, Deja Entendu's title song emanating from the car's extensive sound system. Now, Jesse Lacey's voice kept me occupied as I waited for the stoplight to turn green, my left blinker keeping tune to the music. My fingers drummed absent mindedly on the steering wheel as I waited, the store in perfect view.

I could see that the parking lot was almost full, and there were many people milling around. Most had shopping carts, and most of them were middle aged mothers, their small children in tow. I sighed, and rolled my eyes. I could not count the times some strange rogue little kid who escaped his mother had banged into my cart, or crashed into some huge display, covering me in laundry detergent or boxes of cereal.

I parked fine, trying to get as close as possible. I had my list in my hand, requiring me to buy simple things, like milk and some weird vegetarian crap for Oliver. He could be the pickiest eater sometimes, but of course could never be bothered to cook himself. It only really bothered me occasionally though, he knew when to just shut up and stop being so picky.

As I approached the entrance to the Tesco, I couldn't help but notice someone looking completely out of place among the screaming children and brightly colored sale advertisements. Leaning against the far wall, away from all the excitement, was a figure, dressed head to toe in black, their face looking down at the ground. From out of the figure's hood, I saw a few pieces of bleach blond hair blowing in the wind.

"Blake?" I half whispered, half questioned, inching closer to the figure. It had to be him. This person was ridiculously skinny, had Blake's long, thin arms, and I could identify that hair from a mile away. "What are you doing here?"

His eyes averted from the pavement in front of him, to my face. I couldn't help but gasp in shock. His face, which used to be so bright and angular, his cheekbones and jawline defined and toned, now looked about as sharp as razors, jutting out of face beneath his skin. His cheeks were beginning to sink in, and the skin over his cheeks and bridge of his nose were covered in tiny bright red sores. His lips were now so thin it almost looked as though they were receding into his mouth, and the cartilage in his nose was clearly defined against the bone. I couldn't even look into his eyes for too long, they were beady and crazed, the normally light brown color now just looking completely pitch black, overtaken by his huge, dilated pupil. That trademark bleached hair was blowing in the wind from beneath his hood, but it looked frail and brittle again, as if one particularly large gust of wind would break the strands in half and he would be left bald.

He just stared at me, his hands shaking slightly as they rested in the pockets of his thin black hoodie, the exposed skin chafed pink from wind and cold exposure. He looked me up and down, as if searching through his memory if he even remembered me at all. I saw his eyes focus on my purse, which made me reflexively grab onto the strap with my hand. Finally, his painfully chapped lips parted, and his voice floated out over coarse, ravaged vocal chords.

"Christian." He was hollow and cold, the normal happy tone in his voice completely void. "Sparrow."

"What are you doing here?" I asked, exhaling. I felt my legs walk over to him, and my eyes survey over his face again. "What happened to you?"

"What are you talking about? I feel fine." He whispered hoarsely again, leaning against the wall.

"Blake..." I paused, trying to figure out a way to word it. "You look terrible."

He shrugged, looking up at the grey sky before looking back at me, another gust of wind blowing between us. "I feel fine."

"Why are you just chilling out at the grocery store?"

"Why not? Can't I stand anywhere I'd like?" He rolled his eyes at me, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of his back jeans pocket. "Got a light?"

I shook my head, watching as he put the cigarette between his lips. "How's Alena?" I asked, unsure why he took out a cigarette if he didn't have his lighter.

"My girl? Good as ever." He let a small smile creep up onto his lips, but let it fade just as fast, his cracked lips screaming out in pain.

"Good..." I whispered, my eyes unable to avert away from his completely terrifying new look. "Are you doing more than just meth?" I asked, still whispering. It was like my voice was stuck on that one, barely there volume.

Suddenly, he snapped, the cigarette falling to the ground as his left hand removed itself from his pocket and raised in the air. "What the fuck did you just ask me?"

"I..." I stuttered, my entire body trembling under his glare. The vacant, beady look he had was now replaced with something sinister, the anger boiling up inside him in seconds flat. "I just want to know if you're okay. You're my best friend."

"Don't flatter yourself, Sparrow." He scoffed, slowly bringing his hand down. I breathed in a sigh of relief, my safety less threatened.

"Well, you are...or were. You haven't been around much."

"I've been busy."

"Doing what?"

"Mind your business." He spat, his eyes narrowing into a bone chilling glare.

I just stared blankly at him, unable to move. "It's not good for you, Blake. You need help. I can help you. I'll do whatever I have to. Oliver, too."

Instead of reacting angrily, this time, he just smiled, a tiny laugh escaping his lips. "Oh yeah? You can help me?"

I nodded, my wide eyes locked onto his, my hand still gripping the strap of my purse.

"Tell me, pretty bird," His smile was sickening, as if at any minute he would snap, and bring me to my end. "Is there a mirror in heaven?"

I just continued to stare, fear overcoming my ability to speak, or think.

"Is there a window on earth?" He looked me over, his eyes scanning up and down, before another laugh escaped his lips. "Pretty bird, why are you so still?"

I somehow managed to take a step back, my heel taking the majority of my weight. My head was screaming, demanding I turn around and run as fast as I could, back in my car, back to Oliver, away from here. My body was frozen, though, the delay between my head and my muscles painstakingly slow and dysfunctional.

"Don't talk about shit you know nothing about, Sparrow." He whispered, his taunting smile disappearing, the glare returning. "You can't judge me, and God can't either. And you can't see me, because you're blind. It's a bad man's world, Christian. And I fit in perfectly."