You Are the Key

Chapter Five:

When I woke up, there was a fine powder on the coffee table, as light as flour and barely there. I sat up, wiping my finger through the dusting of cocaine and licked it. The recognizable sting was there. Sighing, I waited for Brandon to come back. He was probably in the bathroom...

I must’ve sat there for about ten minutes until I started to wring my hands. The hair on my arms stood on end, the shiver traveled up my libs and made my teeth grind. I gave it a few more seconds. Then I stood, toes sinking into the carpet. “Brandon.” I whispered, wary to wake up anyone downstairs. I searched every room. Jackie was sprawled out on one of the beds, Shaun on the floor with a thin blanket covering his legs. I silently closed the door and continued to search.

Brandon was gone. I looked everywhere downstairs, even in the kitchen cupboards. He was nowhere to be seen, so I started my search upstairs.

“Brandon.” I whispered, looking down the upstairs hallway. Not one of the three doors opened. I tiredly opened our bedroom door. It was hot and steamy inside, and I realized the shower was running, bathroom door wide open. “Bran?” I asked and the shower curtain pulled back.

“What?” He asked, hair soapy.

“You scared the shit out of me.” I said, shoulders hunching in relief. “I thought you’d wandered off outside or something.”

“Huh?” He laughed and stuck his head back in the shower.

“Well, who knows?” I asked, walking into the bathroom. On the bed was the pair of pants he wore yesterday, a plastic baggie poking out of one of his pockets. I admired the small room and sat down on the edge of the bed. I noted he’d tidied up a bit. I sank back, resting my head on one of the solid pillows. My neck would be aching with these pillows… I sighed and rolled over. “When you’re high, who knows, Bran…” He laughed, and called me into the bathroom.

“You want me to leave this on for you?” He asked, finishing up in the shower. I saw there were a few of my towels hung on a rod by the sink, he must’ve dug through my stuff to find them. I sighed and sat on the toilet lid.

“Yeah, you want me to go get you a pair of pants?”

“I guess, unless you want me to walk around naked. I could arrange for that, though.” I stood and left the room, rolling my eyes. Our bags were stuffed under the bed, so that meant our clothes were put away. The room was in perfect order; everything where he thought it looked nice. Brandon was an organized person, always has been, always will be. I pulled open the closet doors to see all our shirts, and a couple of hoodies hung on wire hangers. There was a mirror on the back of one of the shuttered doors.

I looked like shit.

I closed the doors and searched elsewhere. When I pulled out the top drawer of the dresser, I saw my underwear to the left, his boxers to the right and socks in the middle. So I grabbed a pair of his boxers, pulled out the next drawer and pulled out a pair of his jeans.

Then I put together an outfit for myself before returning to the bathroom with his clothes. Bran was wrapped in a towel, drying off his hair. When he stretched, so did the Japanese block-print demon on his chest. It came alive and glided over his ribs. I patted his stomach just to make him laugh, he was majorly ticklish. “No tè acerques demasiado…” He warned, in the little Spanish he knew.

“Oh yeah?” I said, stepping closer just like he’d told me not to.

“Quitarse tu ropa, bebé.” He licked his lips and pulled me to his chest.

“Sure… I’ll take my clothes off.” I laughed and backed away. He looked a bit surprised. “When you get the hell out of the bathroom...” I grabbed his arm, spun him around and shoved him out of the room.