The Only Exception

The freezing snow crunches beneath my feet and that’s all I can hear. The birds are long gone, already south for the winter and the animals are all huddled together, trying to keep warm and here I am, trudging through the lifeless trees in freezing weather just because…I have no where else to go.

Once again, the adults of the house are arguing. I heard them the moment I got to the front door. There was no way I was going in there just to have my ass kicked and Harper wasn’t home. I didn’t feel like calling any of my friends. They’d only bother and question me about things so I went for a walk.

And, once again, I found myself wondering about Simon and his…life style. Where did he go this time? Going to visit his “friends”, or work maybe? What does he do, anyways? He has just recently started leaving the house during the day but I guess he took time off to move, huh?

I’m probably just over thinking things, as usual. I should stop already. If he knew what it is that is going through my head I’m sure he’ll think of me as an idiot. I even think that I’m an idiot, always wondering about things that are truthfully none of my business.

I can’t help it though. All my life I’ve known about everything and now…here it is, the one thing, the one person I know hardly anything about and it just makes it worse that he and his ways are so mysterious. Anyone would want to know what’s up so I guess I can’t really blame myself entirely.

Although I’m wearing my winter gear, somehow, I still feel the cold November air. Winter is finally here and Thanksgiving is just around the corner. Great, I hate the holidays. It’s not like I ever have anyone to spend it with. Never had, never will, I suppose.

At least it’s Saturday. It’s the weekend, which means I can lounge around and do nothing…well, almost nothing since I already told Harper I’d come over to cook him dinner. I don’t mind doing that, not at all, but being around him makes me realize that I do, indeed, have a crush. The fact that it’s on my older, mysterious, next door neighbor doesn’t help at all.

Groaning, I throw my head back and stare up into the cold gray sky. The clouds above are clumped together signaling that there’s a high chance of getting snow. I bring my hand up to hold tightly onto the scarf that is keeping my face from freezing and falling off.

Blowing into the fabric, I warm it up and rub it against my face. Closing my eyes, I sigh and re-open them to see small white flakes floating down from the sky. They land on my face, melting against my warm skin and leaving it to tingle from the cool liquid.

I shake my head and begin my journey back. The snow starts falling, hard, and I curse the weather for forcing me to return. Stepping out of the woods and into my backyard, I head for the back door and kick it open. The house is silent and it worries me but I soon realize it’s because no one is home and I sigh in relief.

My stomach growls so I go into the kitchen to cook dinner and for no reason really, I look out the window. Across the street I see Harper’s lights on and his car is back, which means he’s home. My fingers drum against the handle of my fridge and biting my lip I think about whether I should go over or not.

He was the one who said to head over to cook him dinner but…

The hell with it.

I grab my jacket and throw it over my shoulders. Opening the door, I step back out into the cool nights air and walk across the street. I knock, almost rudely, on the door but it's because I want out of this freezing air and inside to a nice warm home.

It doesn’t take him long to answer and when he sees me he smirks, “Roy, what a pleasant surprise.”

“Shut up and let me in.”

“Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.” He stands aside and I stalk in, going straight for the fireplace that’s continentally lit in the living room. I jump in front of it and shiver at the sudden heat that brushes past me.

“Is there any reason you have graced me with your presence this evening?”

I glare back at Harper who is looking far too “cool” leaning against the doorway to his living room with his arms crossed and smirk set on his face. Rolling my eyes, I shrug and reply, “Just thought I’d come cook you that dinner I promised.”

“Sounds promising. What do you have in mind?”

“I don’t know. I have to see what you have first,” I answer, getting to my feet and kicking off both my shoes and jacket. I head to the kitchen where I dig through it along with some of the cupboards before deciding on cheesy rice and pork chops.

“You’d make the perfect house wife.”

“I think you have forgotten who exactly has the butcher knife in their hands,” I say around a scowl, lifting up the knife and flipping it around my hand for emphasis.

His chuckle tells me that he knows that I have no intention to harm him but he shuts his mouth anyways. Silently, I cook dinner and he sits at the island with a cigarette hanging lazily from his lips. The smoke he exhales swirls around him and ascends to the ceiling.

The silent atmosphere is broken at the sound of the shrill ringing of Harper’s house phone. Both of us jump, not expecting the sound at all and I look back to see him getting up. I watch the way his dark blue eyes harden and I expect him not to answer but he does with a scowl.

“Hello, father.”

I can hear the man on the other line. I can’t make out what he’s saying exactly but I know that it’s something. Harper doesn’t seem very pleased with what he’s saying but he says in a fake tone. “Yes, we’ve got about everything planned just a few more tweaks here and there.”

I stare and as soon as he notices my focus is on him he walks out of the room. I bite my lip and go back to cooking but I can’t seem to really focus on it. I curse the moment I burn my finger and pop it into my mouth and pout.

I finish the food and sit it on the table. From here I can see Harper in his living room, pacing with one hand behind his back. His eyes shut to show his discomfort but his tone of voice would make one believe that he’s perfectly fine, happy even. Harper grunts and hangs up the phone, he throws it onto the couch and comes into the kitchen while angrily rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“Is everything…all right?” My question is stupid because I can tell by his face that he isn’t ok at all. I ask anyways and wait patiently for some type of reply.

Sighing, Harper answers, “Yeah…my father is just…hard to handle at times.”

“I know how that feels.”