All Your Fractures

Eleven.

“And they lived happily ever after.”

“That's it?”

SATURDAY, 7:12 AM

A few days had passed after Jesse had been taken away from the 5th house on Carmine Street. Israel had brought him to a spacious, and rather epicurean, apartment. White were the wall, furniture and tiles, a few canvas paintings were hung up, but most were leaning on the wall. Colourful, abstract and attention-grabbing leavings of skill and talent.

“I think they're too bright,” murmured the long-haired man who was calmly removing Jesse's arm sutures, seated on a bar chair beside him.

The kitchen air was gingered with the aroma of frying bacon and potatoes, wafting from the electric stove where Israel stood, spatula in hand. A big, white, fluffy-looking dog loitered around Jesse's feet, sniffing him inquisitively.

Jesse's eyes shifted from the paintings to the man. He seemed a bit tall, more than Jesse's own height which was 5"11'. His long black hair had a few silver streaks, tied in a haphazard pony on his head. Keen jade eyes were focused on his gloved fingers pulling out the suture from the skin.

“You didn't make them?” Jesse asked.

The man smiled and his eyes shone with something Jesse couldn't recognize. He succeeded pulling the last thread out and put it on a tray. “A friend did; Ellis. This is his apartment actually.”

“Oh,” He passed a finger over the irregular bump on his skin where a deep gash had once been. “Thank you, uh—”

“Call me Vee.” He removed the gloves, giving him a gentle pat on the shoulder before taking away the tray.  “Most of you is better now, your feet are okay. You can start moving around again.”

“Okay,” He hummed, wriggling nine toes. He thanked Vee again. He'd been the one to do Jesse's sutures, but the brunet was barely conscious at that time so didn't really remember an introduction.

Jesse watched, curious, as the man, clad in jeans and a simple grey T-shirt, left the kitchen. He didn't seem much older than 18, but his voice was mature and far deeper than an 18 year old's. And he had a light stubble on the sides of his chin. A tattoo crawled on his neck from under his shirt, creeping behind his ear.

A plate of bacon, eggs and a couple of hash browns was set in front of him, disturbing his observation of the new character. Israel scratched his ear as he sat across from him, on the other side of the island. “I know, too English, but that's literally the only food here. . . Think you can hold it down?”

He asked with a worried look since his friend hadn't been able to eat anything without later ejecting half of it on sheer impulse. No prior warning, he'd just suddenly leave for the toilet and everything he'd taken would climb back up his throat. Jesse himself didn't give it much thought, brushing it off as his body adjusting to the new environment. And Israel felt like he had no choice but to believe him.

“It's okay. Thanks.” He smiled, accepted a fork and poked a burnt hash brown. “Didn't think you knew how to cook.”

Israel flushed. “I don't. But, I do know how to follow instructions: chop the potatoes and break the eggs, put them in the hot oil and turn them over until they're brown.”

Jesse glanced at the messed up counter behind Israel, amused, “Guess they didn't say anything about what to do after.”

This was the first time Israel had used the kirchen, all the other times it had been Vee, who left almost no trace that he'd been there except the remaining aroma of tasty food. Israel on the other hand left a catastrophe of egg shells, irregularly shaped chunks of potatoes and too-thin strips of cured meat.

“Try it out, how is it?” The boy excitedly asked, eagerly drumming his fingers on the table.

Jesse hummed his hesitation, giving the food on his plate a good, long stare, as if waiting for it to crumble to dust any minute. “It looks okay, just a bit on the... overcooked side.”

“Taste it first. Please?”

Jesse chuckled, “Is this because you heard I'm better? Want to poison me?”

“Come on, it can't look that bad. What could I possibly have done wrong?”

“You didn't let the oil drain before plating.”

“THAT'S JUST ONE THING—”

“These bacon strips are too thick, they couldn't have cooked all the way.”

Israel groaned, down in the dumps, dropping his head on the table. “Can't even make a breakfast. I'm so usel—”

“Shut up.” Eyes furrowed, Jesse shoved an egg onto his mouth, holding back a cringe at the taste of excess salt and too much yolk. He gulped the shit down with a contrived smile. “The eggs aren't as bad though.”

“REALLY?” He jumped, his palms hitting the table as the chair he'd been sitting on was knocked over.

The smile fell. “No. I lied.” Making the boy's imaginary doggy ears droop. “We can do it together next time. I'll teach you.”

“Yeah. . . Google's teaching was terrible.”  He muttered. Then his blues lit up. “Should I get us donuts from next door?”

Jesse sighed in relief, pushing the plate away. “That'd be nice.”

Vee appeared at the doorway, pulling on a leather jacket. The dog padded to him, as if immediately knowing he was going somewhere. “Can you guys watch Zeus for me? I have to pick Ellis up.”

“Why not take him with you? I'm having the feeling he hates me cuz I eat his food sometimes. . . ” Israel warily said.

Vee chuckled softly. “Well, not everyone at the rehab is especially keen to animals. . . ”

“Oh, right.”

“We'll watch him.” Jesse said, then turning to Israel. “In the meantime, I get to ask; what's Ellis like?”

Ruffling the dog's fur, Vee ordered him back into the room. “See you later boy.”

He stepped out of the door into a hallway and went down it to the elevator. In there surrounded by a silent hum as the elevator descended, he stared at his reflection for a long time, during which all that went through his head was a mystery. His green eyes gazed back at him, carrying a heavy load of emotion that couldn't be outed. His eyes wavered but the tear didn't get to fall before he wiped it away. Stiffening himself, he put away the negatives and looked again at his reflection.

It resulted in a light blush atop his cheeks, and him lost in his heart, pulling his long hair out of the band that held it up.