Diamondback

12: Nosy Bastard

When's the last time I had company over?

Oh, that's right.

Never.

Do I tidy up? Do I fix my hair? Sure, I have a working shower, but do I still smell like blood? Shit, what does it matter anyway? It's not like Oliver's really coming.

Chewy watched me panic from his spot on my beat up couch. His eyes gleamed mischievously.

"You shut up over there. He's an old friend...I think. Maybe. Look, you'd be the same way, a'ight?"

Chewy only stared through me with his usual aura of disapproval.

"Oh my God. I'm not replacing you, asshole. It's just a visit."

A visit. It's not that serious. It's not. That. Serious. Maybe he forgot about me. Or he lied to me. Why the hell would he care enough to show up? God, I'm so stupid for holding out hope. It's never easy, is it? Human contact can't be that easy.

"H-Hello?"

I whipped my head around to find Oliver standing behind the half-opened door. He pushed the door open fully and closed it behind him with a relieved hand over his heart when he spotted me in the middle of the room.

"Oh, there you are, Mr. Diamondback. Here I thought you were gonna jump out at me or something." His nervous chuckle let me know he was a little more serious than he let on.

"You came back."

"Of course I came back," Olly snickered at the lost expression on my face. "You weren't expecting me or what? I thought I was pretty clear when I said I'd be stopping by again."

"I didn't think you were serious," I peered out the glassless window at the sun weaseling its way through the trees and into my house. "Shouldn't you be in school?"

He shook his head, still not moving from his spot against the door. "It's Saturday." I guess that makes sense. With all my time spent alone, keeping track of the days of the week has completely slipped my mind. No such thing as a weekend when everyday feels like a mental workout.

Olly wasn't wearing a school uniform or his ballet getup from yesterday either. Outside of social duties, he was a pretty spiffy dresser, decked out in black dress pants, shining loafers, and a tight red long-sleeved v-neck. Looking down at myself in nothing but year-old shorts and a torn white button-up, I was a little embarrassed to not have thought twice about stealing a new outfit off of a dead body or two.

Oliver's eyes were fixed on the defaced wall in front of him. A faintly troubled frown tugged at his lips as he read my curse. There was that same expression of concern from yesterday.

"Are you curious?"

The sound of my voice made him jump. "O-Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to stare, I-"

"I can't blame you, it's literally all over the walls. It's just a curse I've never been able to figure out. Human contact is supposed to free me from being...whatever the hell I am, but y'know, human contact can mean anything."

"We're in contact, aren't we?"

"It's not that simple, man. It has to be the right person and I guess I've gotta, like, do something or say something to them? I dunno. Shit was never explained to me."

"I see," Oliver inched a little closer to me. He smelled like oceanic cologne and some sort of faintly fermented rotten fruit. Has the purple dye in his hair always looked this faded up close? Suddenly, he turned towards me with an unsure squint and raised brows. "Slap me if this sounds crazy, but maybe I can help?"