My Phobia Man

8. Again?

"Hey, I brought you food," the nuisance said as he held the food bag in between us with his trademark smile. Although his purple eye bags were still highly visible, his vitality seemed to return.

I got the bag from his hand without touching him, saying "thank you."

"It is me who should say 'thank you' after your great help," the nuisance said with a slight blush.

"It is... okay," I mumbled, not knowing how to respond.

There was a foreboding silence after that. We just stood and looked at each other until the nuisance broke the silence.

"Did I wake you up last night?"

I oscillated between telling him the truth and lying. Shifting my weight from my left foot to the other, I confirmed "yes, but it was for a brief moment."

Half truth, half lie...

He gave me an apologetic look, "oh, I am so sorry," he said, the same apology also mingling with his words.

"It is okay," I repeated again. For a writer, I was indeed super bad with my spoken words.

"Well," he scratched his nape with a timid smile, "I was thinking if... you know..."

"Hmm?" I inquired with a frown.

He exhaled loudly, "yesterday helped a lot, but I still feel so tired, so... can we repeat it again?"

I expected him to ask that question, but I didn't know how to respond. Of course, it was good to help someone in need, to feel needed, but sleeping on the hard cold ground... until when we could continue doing it?

"I am imposing... I am sorry, let's forge-"

"Okay."

"Ha?" he asked with wide open eyes.

"I said okay," I repeated, averting my gaze from his bead-like small eyes.

"THANK YOU, VEERA!" he shouted and raised his arms as if he would hug me.

I took a step back, horrified, and he immediately pulled his arms behind his back swiftly with an apologetic gaze.

"I am so sorry, I will come around eleven then," he mumbled and rushed to his flat, his baggy bluejeans creating swishy sounds as he moved.

I looked behind him with admiration. Although he was always so excited God knew why, he was admirably observant. Not even once, he missed my reaction and he was always the one who retreated.

"One more night, to show my gratitude," I murmured and closed the door.

I ate the chicken menu he brought, took a shower, wrote another five pages for my novel, and prepared coffee when it was almost eleven.

Like he said, he was at my door at eleven. Without him knocking, I opened the door and gave him a questioning look when I saw the huge blue floor cushions on his lap.

"We can be more comfortable," he declared proudly and threw one cushion inside my flat.

Well, I didn't like using other people's stuff, but how could I say this when he was giving me a puppy look? Therefore, I just positioned the cushion while he did the same on the other side.

"Want some coffee?" I asked unwittingly, but then added, "you are here to sleep though."

He nodded, "I don't want to risk my sleep, but can I keep that offer for another time?"

I was flabbergasted. Keeping for another time? We weren't friends or anything, so there was no reason for us to meet for a coffee... right?

Then why did I feel elated hearing that? Was it because of the possibility that he didn't only want to use me for his needs? Because he regarded me as a nice man to hang out with?

I don't know... I never know...

Dismissing the thoughts, I threw the blankets to the cushion and poured myself a huge mug of coffee. Placing the mug on the floor, I reached one blanket to him.

"Oh, thank you," he bent his frame towards his left so that he could show me his smile, "it was so nice of you to cover me last night."

I got flustered. How come he could throw those cheesy lines out of nowhere without feeling embarrassed?! I was a writer, but he was rendering me speechless!

"Hmm." That was the best I could do before hiding my possibly red face behind the mug.

Luckily, the nuisance wasn't a nosy type, so he didn't tease me. Dropping the topic altogether, he rather asked "did I do anything weird last night?"

I gave it a thought for a second, then truthfully said "you reached for my tattoo."

There was a movement on the other side before he pushed the cushion in front of the open door and slumped on it again. He looked at me intently while asking "I reached for your tattoo in my sleep, really?"

I nodded hesitantly and he raked his fingers through his longish hair.

"The moment I saw your tattoo, I felt it was powerful. I read yellow feathered dream catchers symbolise spiritual strength, I guess it is true," he said with a dreamy expression.

"Well, I am sure it doesn't work for me," I snorted, maybe feeling resentful towards my tattoo.

"Maybe you act like a vessel for it, it uses your energy to help others."

Okay, it was interesting. My wild imagination galloped while my hand holding the mug froze.

"Don't you believe me?" he broke my trance, "I would love to get the same tattoo, so we could try it on you."

"But you have needle phobia," I said with a frown and his eyes lit.

"You still remember!" he shouted blithely, making me embarrassed again.

"Humm-umm," I hummed and rested my back against the wall to hide myself, "you should sleep now."

"Oh, yes!" he announced and I heard the swishing sound as he pulled his cushion back to its early position, "thank you for the blanket and good night."

"Good night," I replied, and like the day before, I put my hand on the ground where he could see after switching the lights off. Too bad I could do nothing for the corridor light.

Interestingly, the light had no effect on the nuisance. Right after he said good night, he fell asleep, looking like a Thai spring roll as his body was completely covered with my white blanket. His head? Hmm, I would call it a slopped-over ingredient. Hehe.

Indeed, I had a little fun on my own, but it didn't last too long. After midnight, he started to shake again as he was blathering incoherently. I could see his eyes were rolling behind his tightly shut eyelids and his blue bangs were damp with sweat.

I stared at him for a few seconds, not knowing what to do until I saw his hands, which were clenched around the blanket as if his life depended on it.

Slowly I reached and pried his small hand off of the blanket. As his hand got empty, it suddenly grabbed my hand with the tattoo. I felt his nails pricking into my skin, but didn't retract my hand. I let him hold me while I whispered some random sentences to pull him out of his nightmare.

It worked! Again!

***

Another extra! This writer works hard these days^^

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