Your Inaccessible Light

When I awake the next morning, I feel refreshed and relieved. It is a peculiar and unnatural feeling, but I like it. Ronnie’s phone is lying on the cabinet, so I pick it up quickly to check the time. It is 9.00am, and given that it is a Saturday morning, I do not suppose Ronnie will be waking up anytime soon. I am still fully dressed in the same clothes I wore yesterday, so I simply neaten up my hair slightly before going downstairs. Ronnie’s father I assume has already gone to work and his brother must still be asleep. My throat is dry so I search the kitchen cupboards for a glass, quickly becoming aware of the complete lack of food while I’m doing so. In my pocket I have a small amount of money, so I decide to take a trip to the shop around the corner to buy something for breakfast.

When I get back, Ronnie is sat at the breakfast table drinking a coffee, his hair still damp from having showered and gotten changed.

“How did you get in?” he asks.

“I found a spare key on the side and I figured since you make yourself at home at my place, I’d do the same here,” I explain, placing the spare key back down on the kitchen side, along with the bag of food I bought from the shop.

“What did you get?”

“Bacon, eggs and bread.”

“I like you.”

“Who said you’re having any?” I smirk. He stares at me blankly for a second before elbowing me in the ribs.

“My house, my rules.”

“Your father’s house actually,” I correct him.

“Whatever. You’re gonna have to cook it though cos I can’t cook for shit.”

“I thought as much,” I say, turning on the stove. I begin to cook breakfast as Ronnie and I continue to bicker. At about half past ten, Anthony stumbles down the stairs. I instinctively tense up, but thankfully he doesn’t so much as glance in our direction as he makes his way out the door. I notice a hint of sadness in Ronnie’s eyes, and I feel guilty that I can’t help him the way he always helps me. I hate that he has to go through this; it’s really not fair. Then again, life is never fair.

“Are you coming to the show tonight?” Ronnie asks me as we clear up from breakfast.

“Probably not. I doubt I’ll be able to think of an excuse to tell my parents.”

“I thought they didn’t care?”

“They don’t, but…” I trail off, before suddenly changing my mind, “You know what? They probably wouldn’t even notice.”

“Exactly,” he grins, “You could dye your hair bright pink and they wouldn’t notice.”

“Should we put that theory into action?”

“What?”

“We should dye my hair pink.”

“Noelle you’re nuts.”

“What?” I laugh, “I think it would be cool to have pink hair.”

“You’re absolutely insane,” he mutters, grabbing some bubbles from the sink and flicking them at me.

“I don’t think you’re in any position to call me insane Ronnie,” I say, picking up a handful of bubbles myself. He glares at me and takes a few steps backwards, expecting me to throw the bubbles in his face, but that wasn’t my intention at all. Instead, I spread the bubbles on my own face, giving myself a white fluffy beard.

“You’re literally the most retarded person I’ve ever met,” he frowns, shaking his head.

“Come on Ronnie, don’t be such a bore,” I whine, scooping up another handful of bubbles and stepping towards him.

“Don’t even think about it,” he says, shooting me a death glare that would terrify anyone other
than me.

“Oh I’m thinking about it.”

“You wouldn’t,” he states, his facial features twisted into a frown. Before he can back away, I quickly press my hands to his face, spreading the bubbles across his chin.

“I would,” I smirk, “You don’t scare me the way you scare the rest of our school, remember?”

“Shut the fuck up,” he mutters, and for a second, I think he is genuinely angry with me. I smile innocently and shrug my shoulders and he instantly unclenches his jaw, a small laugh escaping from his lips.

“You’re such a pain in the ass,” he mutters, rolling his eyes.

“Only for you,” I tease, “Are you gonna help me dye my hair or not?”

“Do I have a choice?” he enquires, but I don’t respond. We both already know the answer.

About an hour and a half later, we have been shopping and my hair is now coated in hair dye. We decided to do it at my house since my parents would be out for most of the day and because I needed to get changed anyway.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” Ronnie asks as he runs the tap in the sink, scrubbing all of
the dye off of the basin.

“Yes,” I say simply, “You’re the one that suggested it anyway.”

“I was only joking. I’m pretty sure your parents will notice.”

“Of course they’ll notice; I just really want pink hair so what better time than now?”

“Quit talking then and lean over the bath; I need to rinse it out now.” I do as I am told and crouch down beside the bath, leaning my head over. Ronnie runs the shower head for a while to let it warm up and then begins to rinse out the dye.

“Does it look okay?” I ask after a few minutes.

“Besides the fact you look like a fucking marshmallow?”

“I swear you like marshmallows.”

“Yes, I like to eat them, not look like them, you fucking…lunatic,” he mutters. Clearly, he still thinks dyeing my hair was a stupid and impulsive decision, but he knows there was no point trying to talk me out of it because I’d still do it anyway. Once I’ve made up my mind on something, I can be extremely stubborn.

“I think it will do us good to throw some colour into the mix. I mean, you never wear anything
other than black and I’m not exactly a ball of colour.”

“And I think we’re perfectly fine the way we were.”

“We’re talking like we’re a couple, this is weird,” I say, trying to shake the thoughts from my head.

“Eurgh, why would I want to go out with you?”

“Why would I wanna go out with you?” I fire back. He laughs and shrugs and I can’t help but think, if only he knew.