The dragonflies tattoist - Freenbecky ☆𝆬

Chapter 12

Change happens slowly, so slowly that we don't notice it until it's left permanent marks.

Freen didn't know this.

As she lay on her bed reading Howe's book, she didn't realize how sane and wise his writing had been at the beginning, or how little by little madness crept into his words. It wasn't until the story took a sharp turn into nonsense that she noticed how drastic the shift had been.

'And here Ana, with her red hair, said to the horse: "Kill me," and poor Ruben, who was a dog, finally fulfilled his dream of becoming a sparrow.'

None of it made any sense, and Freen couldn't imagine Becky reading that book for any reason other than to laugh at the writer's descent into madness.

Almost as if Becky could read her thoughts, Freen's phone began to play the opening chords of Eighteen, signaling a call.

But it wasn't just any call. It was a call from Becky.

"Lern Jergi!" Freen greeted her with enthusiasm, shutting the book with a snap. The lunacy of Howe's words had started to give her a headache anyway.

"Lern Jergi?" Becky repeated, sounding amused. "That's a bit of an odd nickname," she remarked through the receiver, "...but I like it."

Freen could practically picture her smiling.

"Almost as much as you like Nutella?" Freen teased.

"Almost as much as I like you," Becky corrected. "...and your butt," she added. "Though I wasn't going to say that because it didn't sound very romantic."

Freen burst into nervous laughter.

It had been two weeks since what happened at Becky's apartment, and although anyone listening to their conversations might've expected things to change, they hadn't.

They hadn't kissed during those two weeks, nor had they had any silly arguments. Becky hadn't made much progress on her painting of Freen either because they always ended up getting distracted about five minutes in. The reasons for their distractions were always so trivial that anyone overhearing would probably roll their eyes.

"Can we talk about how completely unhinged Howe was?" Freen asked with a grin. "I swear by chapter eight, the guy was hallucinating... and I can swear that because he forgot to write chapter eight."

"That's all we've talked about for the past two weeks," Becky admitted. "I'm starting to think you're only reading the five Howe books I lent you so you can make fun of him."

"Of course not!" Freen objected, keeping her voice low. Jan was asleep in the bottom bunk next to hers, and she didn't want to wake her. It was late, and Eve and Malee were both working night shifts. "I'm reading them because I want to understand what you see in these books."

"You won't understand them if you're trying to understand them."

"That's confusing!" Freen groaned. "And stressful!"

"You stress me out too when I call you and you only want to talk about Howe, but I don't usually complain about it."

Freen laughed, taking a deep breath before speaking again.

"Alright, I'm sorry. What do you want to talk about?"

"I'm coming to the studio tomorrow to pick you up. I want to paint you some more. And maybe we can finally kiss. Believe me, I'm desperate."

Freen had to admit she was desperate too, but the moment never seemed right.

"Okay, I'll be waiting at five."