September 2030

Responsibility

I would never show that I'm hurt to anyone. You shouldn't come off as weak, and even in this position I'm in right now I draw I line there. I'm not going to show him that my foot is not just strained but badly strained, and I'm not going to let him help me with that. Acting a bit weaker and talkative to seem normal is fine, but if I overdo it, it might just look like I'm a burden and he'll leave me behind. I need to balance it, because if I act too weak I might actually seem weak, and not just like a normal girl my age.

"You're not able to leave right now."
"I sure am." I mumble towards him.
He's not telling me again, but just continues walking. It seems like he thinks that he didn't ask me to come, so he's not going to take responsibility for my seemingly dumb actions. I can agree, you're not actually supposed to run around if you strained you ankle. Especially if you strained it badly. But if he's walking, I'm walking.

After a while he stops, right in front of an abandoned hamburger restaurant, and I stop behind him.
"Hungry?"
His deep voice surprises me since we've been quiet for hours.
"Yeah. But I'm pretty sure there's nothing left there."
I can see, even from behind, how he smirks.
"You would be right. But I brought food, and so did you."
Oh right, he told me he left food and water in my backpack right before he left.
"Fine." I mumble coldly.
He laughs at my coldness, probably thinking I'm trying to act stubborn or something. I'm not, I just let a small bit of myself shine through there. His laugh is raspy and deep, just like his voice, and when I hear him laugh it reminds me of something I can't really put my finger on. It was a long time since I heard someone laugh, probably years ago. I myself probably haven't laughed since I was five or something. Had to grow up too fast and be thrown into the real world.

The guy, I still don't know his name, doesn't go inside, but sits down on the ground, close to the corner, with his head resting against the wall of the restaurant. Clever. If someone comes here he can see them clearly, and they're not able to push him into a corner like they can inside the restaurant. I would have done that myself, so he must have lived this life for a long time, and based on the scars running along his arms he learned this the hard way.

I sit behind him on the ground, but on the other side of the corner. That way we can have a wider perspective. He looks around the corner, face turned down towards me. A piece of his hair falls into his eyes but he doesn't move it out of the way. Now, out in the light, I can see that his hair is dark brown, and his eyes have a deep blue color, just like the ocean.

He gives me a quick look of appreciation and a nod before he turns back.
"Good idea." I can hear him say in his low raspy voice.

I never had anyone tell me that my ideas were good.

A thin stroke of warmth runs through my body so fast that I barely notice it.