The Lost

2- Strange Friendship

Lyn

I paced to the edge of the huge cabinet and sat myself down on the edge. My legs hung over the drop. There were at least a hundred of me between the top of the cabinet and the floor... sitting here like this was a little precarious, to say the least, but I supposed that I had grown used to it. I swung my legs back and forth, thinking. After a moment, I found that swaying them from side to side was far more comfortable. My heels didn't clonk on the wood that way.
30 seconds must have gone by with me just swooshing my feet through the air. The human boy didn't talk. He didn't really move either. Was he breathing?

"Why didn't you fight back?" I inquired. The room wasn't particularly big, so my voice lingered. Usually it would be a challenge to hear myself think with all of the ruckus in the school, but it was so quiet now. Peaceful, even
He didn't get up, but I heard the heavy shuffle of movement on the wooden boards. His body stretched out with difficulty. And then he simply slumped back on the wood. I sighed. If he had been trying to sit up, that effort was over. There was a low grumbling.
I frowned, "What?"
But no other sounds were made.

Again, I sighed. This boy.
"Well?" I demanded.
The response had a lethargic delay, "There's no point, Faelyn. Leave it."

I crossed my arms and he kept silent. Using my full name? He only ever called me that if he was angry at me, which was a rare occasion. Deciding that I wasn't angry, even though he quite clearly was, I strummed my fingers on the wood and said, "There's a difference between not fighting and just letting Edward beat you up. You didn't even try to defend yourself." I considered leaving it there, before deciding to add a sharp, "Lucius."
He let out a deep, chesty sigh which made me regret how I snapped his name. After all, he was laying in a little puddle of his own blood. But then the boy laughed which made me think that it didn't really matter after all.
"Point taken," Lucius nodded, still on the floor, "Sorry: Lyn. I ain't mad at you or nothing, just pissed off, you know?"
I sat up, "Language. Don't swear." He was too smart to be swearing in my opinion, though I suspected he didn't care what I thought.
"Who're you— my mum?" He snorted, "Language my ass, leave me be. Just got the shit beat out of me."

My friend groaned loud and long before he finally sat up. It was one of those sounds you make as you try to claw your way out of bed after a horrible night's sleep. Watching the way he arched his back and bent his knees all to just sit up off the floor made me think that he looked more drunk than sleep-deprived. Every movement was sluggish. Like there were weights on his arms. Though, I couldn't blame him; he had just taken a bad beating. Lucius gave another grumble and then just like that, he sat up straight. I watched with a hint of amusement as he cocked his head this way and that. He was searching the room.
"Where are you?" He half-laughed, half-complained. I got feeling that he was slightly annoyed at his failure to find my hiding place. He always had been very good at that. Not this time though, which made me grin.
"Behind you."

He spun on his butt to face behind him. Brown eyes found me quickly after my vague hint, and I smiled. Too smart to swear. My smile faded when I saw the darkening bruise around his left eye. For some reason I had never been able to explain, the colour of his eyes reminded me of trees. Not like the measly trees in the garden; great big oak trees like you find in a forest. And now there was a horrible, yellowish-bruise ring ruining it.

"You look awful." I stated too bluntly.
"Thanks."
My hands brushed through my hair anxiously, the mind underneath scrambling for an apology. "I didn't mean that."
"You did," he nodded his head, "And you're probably right. Bet I look like shit. Feel like shit, so I wouldn't be surprised. But I've been worse than this before, anyway. I'll live."
I bit my tongue and counted to five. "Not that I remember," was my eventual reply. I left it after that though. Lucius had a weakness about him that made me realise just how worn down he was. It was in his breathing, his speech. Now wasn't the time for moaning at him about the swearing or the fighting.