Status: In Progress (I'm tryin')
Crossing Stars
March 21, 2009
March 21, 2009
She had never been so thankful that her parents never came into her room.
she woke up at three fifteen in the morning to the sound of one of her bedroom windows opening. he shot up and looked around, eyes wide with fear, only to see him, beaten and bruised.
“You should see the other guy.”
He must have seen the look on her face.
She sighed and left the room to retrieve the first aid kit that sat forgotten under the bathroom sink. When she came back, he’d strippe doff his jacket to show all the damage to his arms. There was bruises and cuts on his lower arms - defensive wounds she noted - and she could see blood seeping through a small part of his shirt, next to a suspicious cut in the fabric. He was standing in the middle of her room, looking uncomfortable, arms crossed in front of his chest.
She motioned to the bed, and he sat down. she immediately got to work on the cuts on his arms, leaving the bruises to heal on their own. None of the cuts were deep, but a couple on his upper arm had small bits of glass on them. When she forced him to take off his shirt so she could get at the rest, she saw more glass in a wound on his shoulder. Was he hit with a bottle or something? Whatever.
“How did you remember where I live?” She whispered.
“Dunno. Just started walking and I ended up here. Recognised the house.”
She hummed and placed the last bandage on his chest, patting it not without noticing that he winced. Good, she thought, serves him right. At the same time she felt kind of bad.
“No more fighting.”
“Jesus woman, don’t do that.” He gingerly rubbed the place she patted.
“Why were you even fighting?”
“They came at me first!”
“Shh, you’ll wake my parents.”
“look, they were some not good people, and they wanted to beat me up. I just defended myself.”
“Why did they want to beat you up?”
He was quiet for a moment.
“Hey-”
“There might have been alcohol involved.” he sounded like a child that knows they did wrong. He felt like it, too.
She frowned. She really wasn’t a fan of alcohol. The vile stuff was just a reminder of the time a drunk driver nearly took her life when she was walking home from school one day, and again when she was in the passenger seat of a drunk family friend’s car. And all the stupid things people do when drunk. But he was quick to defend himself.
“I only had a drink, knowing I shouldn’t get drunk, and they were calling me a pussy and tried to force a fre heavy shots down my throat, and when I shoved it away, it spilled all over one of them. You can imagine how pissed he got. I mean, they were so plastered they wouldn’t have done much damage, if one didn’t have a knife.”
He whispered it all quickly, wanting the disappointed look off her face. He hated anyone being disappointed in him. And the look on her face made his skin crawl.
“You’re an idiot.” She hit him again, causing him to scowl. “I told you booze are bad luck.”
“I know-”
“And I told you those guys are idiots.”
“Hey-”
“I mean, I don’t mean that you should stop hanging out with them, but getting drinks-”
“Hey!” It was his turn to interrupt her, grabbing her face with his rough hands. she could feel the bandages she used for his bloody knuckles on her cheeks.
“Hey, I know. I’m sorry, okay? I’m okay though. And I can’t promise I’ll never be around them when they’re drunk, but i know how to defend myself. And a good friend of mine is an excellent nurse.”
She tried to force away the smile at the last part that was obviously directed at her. She removed his hands from her face, and looked at them. they were so large and rough compared to hers, worn down by years of constant manual labor and roughness. Compared to hers, small and delicate, only slightly tougher because of her do-it-yourself work ethic, it was quite a difference.
“Just be careful. You’re kind of my best friend.”
“And you're mine, but I’m a big boy.”
She rolled her eyes but nodded.
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
“We sound like that one book you love.” He mused. She gave a small smile.
“Are you gonna crash here tonight or head back to yours?”
“Crash here, if I can?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll just take the floor.”
“No.”
“Where would you sleep?”
“The floor.”
“No!”
“Fine, then we’ll just share the bed.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
they both crawled into the double bed, facing away from each other, drifting to sleep not long after.
…
The sun was streaming directly onto their faces in the early hours of the morning, waking them.
She stirred and looked around to see he was much closer to her then she remembered when they fell asleep. They were cuddled together as close as they could be with his injuries, which meant he was on his back with her head on his good shoulder, with an arm gently resting on his stomach, his arm around her waist.
He opened his eyes and looked down at her. Their eyes met before they closed them again, ready to go back to sleep.
“‘M sorry.” she muttered.
“S’alright. Thanks.” Was his sleepy reply.
“No problem.”
There was a small moment of early-morning quiet.
“Sorry for worrying so much.”
He chuckled. “You can’t help it.”
She made a vague noise of disagreement- or maybe affirmation- into his chest, and he laughed, drawing a small smile from her. The fell back asleep soon after. After all, it was seven in the morning.
…
When she woke up again sometime around noon, he was gone. The first aid kit was hidden nearly under her desk, and a note was on the pillow. On it was a simple ‘thanx’, because he knew the misspelling pissed her off.
She crumpled the note, throwing it in the vague direction of her trash can before starting her day.
She had never been so thankful that her parents never came into her room.
she woke up at three fifteen in the morning to the sound of one of her bedroom windows opening. he shot up and looked around, eyes wide with fear, only to see him, beaten and bruised.
“You should see the other guy.”
He must have seen the look on her face.
She sighed and left the room to retrieve the first aid kit that sat forgotten under the bathroom sink. When she came back, he’d strippe doff his jacket to show all the damage to his arms. There was bruises and cuts on his lower arms - defensive wounds she noted - and she could see blood seeping through a small part of his shirt, next to a suspicious cut in the fabric. He was standing in the middle of her room, looking uncomfortable, arms crossed in front of his chest.
She motioned to the bed, and he sat down. she immediately got to work on the cuts on his arms, leaving the bruises to heal on their own. None of the cuts were deep, but a couple on his upper arm had small bits of glass on them. When she forced him to take off his shirt so she could get at the rest, she saw more glass in a wound on his shoulder. Was he hit with a bottle or something? Whatever.
“How did you remember where I live?” She whispered.
“Dunno. Just started walking and I ended up here. Recognised the house.”
She hummed and placed the last bandage on his chest, patting it not without noticing that he winced. Good, she thought, serves him right. At the same time she felt kind of bad.
“No more fighting.”
“Jesus woman, don’t do that.” He gingerly rubbed the place she patted.
“Why were you even fighting?”
“They came at me first!”
“Shh, you’ll wake my parents.”
“look, they were some not good people, and they wanted to beat me up. I just defended myself.”
“Why did they want to beat you up?”
He was quiet for a moment.
“Hey-”
“There might have been alcohol involved.” he sounded like a child that knows they did wrong. He felt like it, too.
She frowned. She really wasn’t a fan of alcohol. The vile stuff was just a reminder of the time a drunk driver nearly took her life when she was walking home from school one day, and again when she was in the passenger seat of a drunk family friend’s car. And all the stupid things people do when drunk. But he was quick to defend himself.
“I only had a drink, knowing I shouldn’t get drunk, and they were calling me a pussy and tried to force a fre heavy shots down my throat, and when I shoved it away, it spilled all over one of them. You can imagine how pissed he got. I mean, they were so plastered they wouldn’t have done much damage, if one didn’t have a knife.”
He whispered it all quickly, wanting the disappointed look off her face. He hated anyone being disappointed in him. And the look on her face made his skin crawl.
“You’re an idiot.” She hit him again, causing him to scowl. “I told you booze are bad luck.”
“I know-”
“And I told you those guys are idiots.”
“Hey-”
“I mean, I don’t mean that you should stop hanging out with them, but getting drinks-”
“Hey!” It was his turn to interrupt her, grabbing her face with his rough hands. she could feel the bandages she used for his bloody knuckles on her cheeks.
“Hey, I know. I’m sorry, okay? I’m okay though. And I can’t promise I’ll never be around them when they’re drunk, but i know how to defend myself. And a good friend of mine is an excellent nurse.”
She tried to force away the smile at the last part that was obviously directed at her. She removed his hands from her face, and looked at them. they were so large and rough compared to hers, worn down by years of constant manual labor and roughness. Compared to hers, small and delicate, only slightly tougher because of her do-it-yourself work ethic, it was quite a difference.
“Just be careful. You’re kind of my best friend.”
“And you're mine, but I’m a big boy.”
She rolled her eyes but nodded.
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
“We sound like that one book you love.” He mused. She gave a small smile.
“Are you gonna crash here tonight or head back to yours?”
“Crash here, if I can?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll just take the floor.”
“No.”
“Where would you sleep?”
“The floor.”
“No!”
“Fine, then we’ll just share the bed.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
they both crawled into the double bed, facing away from each other, drifting to sleep not long after.
…
The sun was streaming directly onto their faces in the early hours of the morning, waking them.
She stirred and looked around to see he was much closer to her then she remembered when they fell asleep. They were cuddled together as close as they could be with his injuries, which meant he was on his back with her head on his good shoulder, with an arm gently resting on his stomach, his arm around her waist.
He opened his eyes and looked down at her. Their eyes met before they closed them again, ready to go back to sleep.
“‘M sorry.” she muttered.
“S’alright. Thanks.” Was his sleepy reply.
“No problem.”
There was a small moment of early-morning quiet.
“Sorry for worrying so much.”
He chuckled. “You can’t help it.”
She made a vague noise of disagreement- or maybe affirmation- into his chest, and he laughed, drawing a small smile from her. The fell back asleep soon after. After all, it was seven in the morning.
…
When she woke up again sometime around noon, he was gone. The first aid kit was hidden nearly under her desk, and a note was on the pillow. On it was a simple ‘thanx’, because he knew the misspelling pissed her off.
She crumpled the note, throwing it in the vague direction of her trash can before starting her day.
♠ ♠ ♠
Sorry it's been so long. I usually updated after I finished my work in one of my computer classes (all work being completed within the first half hour of class), but it was one semester, so I'm doing it in another computer class if I have time left.