The truest solace she had found in months hadn't been in the embrace of her brother. It hadn't been through the one-armed hug of her friend, or the cautious caress from her mother.
It had, instead, been in the arms of a stranger.
Or, rather, not a stranger.
The person who had been her brother's friend.
"I'm sorry for my behavior," she said, withdrawing from him as the terrible whistle of the train faded into silence. "It's just, I've discovered that I hate trains."
His arms slackened before using one of them to sideswipe Brenda's concern. "There's no need to apologize. That's understandable. If it helps any, I hate cash registers."
"Why do you hate cash registers?"
"I knew a girl once who got held up for one."
"That must have been horrible."
"It was."
There could be no qualms of the man's allure. His hair was curled and unkempt. His eyes, though filled with centuries of torture that far surpassed his twentysomething years, were kind. In that way, they reminded Brenda of her brother's, if Brandon's eyes had been shaded in a darker hue.
Dylan had neither muscle nor flab; perhaps one of those individuals who preferred a certain strenuous activity to working out at the gym.
"You're a surfer, aren't you?" Brenda surprised herself as she asked.
He, too, appeared startled. "You know that I surf?"
"Not at all," she said. "I've gone down to the ocean with Brandon, both here and when we were still in Australia. He showed me the people that surf. I can't help but notice you are a similar build."
"Oh." Hope slid off of his face. "Thanks."
"You've got very nice arms," said Brenda.
"You think so?" His disappointment thinned.
"Am I correct in thinking they have held me before?"
"What gave you that impression?"
"Because I can't be touched."
"I'm sorry." Dylan began to release her.
"No," she said, "Ever since the hospital, I hate being touched. Maybe too much poking, maybe too much prodding, or maybe it's part of my condition. Either way, Brandon's the only one who can hold me without issue. Val has to go about it carefully, almost painstakingly so. She has to first ensure I will let her near me before she can try." Brenda scrutinized Dylan with awe. "But you - you touched me, hugged me even, and I - I didn't hate it."
He smiled. "That's a relief. I was worried I'd overstepped, but; well, it was either give it a try or watch you hit the ground. And the latter; Bren, it wasn't an option."
"You keep calling me Bren," said Brenda, slipping out of his hold. "Were we close?"
"Am I allowed to answer?" he asked warily. "Are you supposed to figure that out on your own?"
"It is better to be told the truth than to shield me with a lie," she said. "But only tell me when I ask you. It's easier for me to listen that way. Less straining on the brain. Less chance of becoming overwhelmed, because it allows me to prepare for your answer."
"What happens if you get overwhelmed?" Dylan questioned with palpable concern.
"The ceiling crashes," she said.
"We don't want the ceiling to crash," he said.
"Exactly. It also helps if you keep your answers short, or give me some kind of warning if you think they will be longer."
YOU ARE READING
Lethe Vita
أدب الهواةIt had been a simple game of Battleship. He didn't know the actions he took during the game would end up dictating his life. Primarily B/D Brandon Val, with appearances by the rest of the gang and their respective relationships. (originally started...
