RED PARALLEL

Chapter 20: Contemplation

(Owen)

At seven a.m., Owen walked out of the room, his backpack on.

"You better be quick, 'cause we're already late for sch-"

Traviz was spread across the sofa like a fainted drugged homeless man. His body was twisted, mouth half-opened, one arm over the forehead and another hanging, legs parted, one over the back of the sofa and another on the floor; his shoes were apparently thrown against the other side of the living room, as well as his dear cap; the pillows had collapsed over the carpet; he had a sock over his neck and another hidden between his messy brown-blonde hair. He had half his shirt rolled up, showing off his tanned fit stomach. To add to the savage picture, his pants were loosened, unbuttoned and unzipped and slightly slipped down, showing off his red and black underwear.

Should I wake him or...

Owen glanced at the clock.

"Troy," he called, but with not much will.

He trekked through the pillows, approaching his fainted friend. Then he took a second look at the messy unit, observing the bare skin parts more attentively.

Owen always thought that Traviz had a funny skin color. Depending on the surrounding light, he would look paler or tanner. He didn't have a established skin tone that it could be defined, and it didn't seem right to say it looked like 'medium'; it looked like a bunch of tones. Altogether. In one skin. Was it because he had spent too much time at The Crib? If Traviz spent more time with him, would he get paler? It didn't seem like a good thing. Owen was fine with his own undeniable pale skin tone, but it would definitely look strange on his friend. They were so different: Traviz was like a burning summer; he, on the other hand, was a boring grey winter. To add to Traviz's hot skin, a ray of sunlight covered half his body. A grown-up body.

Traviz had changed considerably. He was now taller. "72", he had told him, with his stupid pride. "72,5, Troy. I won.". The arms were getting fit, the legs were longer and with an amount of hair at the bottom, the abs appeared – well, he had it, too, but with the pale skin tone and in a less degree – the neck was longer, and the face. Traviz's face was interesting because it didn't change much; just like his attitude and personality. Stubborn, anxious, bad-tempered, irritated, lazy, impish. The prince of faces. His eyebrows would crook and raise every time, his brown eyes were either excited or annoyed, he would bite and twist his lips, but now...

Curious, that was the first time he saw him sleeping. With eyes covered, Traviz looked totally different. Now Owen could see: the longer face, the pimples gone, the longer nose, the jaw... Owen carefully removed the sock from his neck.

Yep. The traditional Adam's apple. Everybody has, why wouldn't he?

I better wake him...

"Hey." Owen poked him with his knee. "Wake up."

Sleeping.

"Troy. Let's go."

Sleeping.

"Pussy, get your ass outta my sofa and move. C'mooon!"

Not a move.

Actually, he didn't want to wake him up. Traviz looked just fine.

Should I take a picture?

Too late, because Traviz moved his feet and started twisting his body, changing the whole visual setting: the socks fell, the shirt rolled down, the pants slipped down, both legs stretched and then he shrank his body in fetal position, burying his head inside the sofa.

"Aaahh, so you're awake..."

False alarm. He wasn't.

Traviz seemed so comfortable sleeping that Owen caught himself yawning and considering going back to bed. Yet frankly, it was not a bad idea to sit and contemplate the sleepy prince. And that's what he did.