Dawn Is Coming

Chapter 5

Akira

The street we walk along is empty, and most of the buildings surrounding it have no lights penetrating their windows. The dim light from the lampposts flickers, providing barely enough light for us to see. Well, for Grant and Porter, at least. I'm a vision shift away from seeing everything as clear as day. We take a right, the street narrowing down to a small road. Grant's building is slightly bigger than mine, with a fourth floor and balconies. No one except for Grant lives in this place due to its history to having housed hundreds of infected before it was cleaned out. The walls were constructed from dark grey concrete that had cracks everywhere. The dust on the windows makes them nearly impossible to see through. The flat roof houses many dried-out plants that have died long, long ago. It's been so long since I've seen a green plant.

Grant walks ahead of me, opening the door with a rough kick. Thrifts don't have kicks, so Grant barricades his door to prevent anyone from getting it. Is it so wrong that I find it so... attractive that he barely needs any effort to do what most people physically can't?

I usher Porter in, closing the door behind us. The immense heat of the building hits me right away, warming me down to my bones. This building has been heating on full throttle ever since its previous infected inhabitants were kicked out to kill the virus. Taking off my military jacket and tossing it onto the black bench near the entry, I start rushing to the kitchen, my eyes set on the sink. Dim yellow light floods the room once Grant manages to light the candle. He places it on the dusty kitchen island before taking Porter's hand and leading him upstairs. Once I'm alone on the first floor, my face relaxes and morphs into agony as I run up to the sink, turning on the freezing water and thrusting my arm underneath the stream. Relief floods my body as the water numbs the pain of my webbing veins. Whenever I used to do the Psychosoma-X test, I used to feel a bit of pain in my arm, like all people do. But the older I get and the worse my constrictions become, the more my veins swell and the more my pain grows.

But Grant can't know what.

No one can.

Hearing footsteps descend the stairs, I turn the sink off, taking a seat on a kitchen stool and burying my face in wet hands. Deep breaths stretch my lungs as I fight to achieve a cool, unfazed expression. Emotion is a weakness.

Feel nothing.

"You okay?" He asks me in a soft, caring voice, one of his large hands closing around my wrist. Lowering it onto the table with care, he brushes my bangs out of my face, tucking what he can behind my ear. I open my eyes with reluctance, relieved to feel the pain ease further once my gaze falls upon his handsome, worried face.

Forcing a small nod, I summon my courage and place my other hand on his. Even in the faint candlelight, I see the redness spreading across his cheeks as his eyes flit to our hands. A strong rush of heat explodes in my body as I notice the love in his blue depths, the gentle caress of his gaze on my skin. My mind is bursting with barely suppressed emotions and words as he brushes his thumb over the rough surface of my hand, sending my heart into a crazed frenzy. Tightening his grip on my hand, he stands up and leads me out of the kitchen down the hall next to the stairs. I wasn't aware that it was possible, but my heart starts beating even harder. The suspense is killing me. Where is he taking me? Is he-

By the time we reach a cracked wooden door he has already turned around, hurrying down the hall with his hands stuffed deep into his pockets.

"I'll be in the main room," He calls out in a hoarse voice. My heart drops into my stomach as I watch him disappear around the corner. Out of all the scenarios that had been playing out in my head, this was not one of them. With heavy feet, I enter what I realize is the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind me. Standing beneath the cold stream of water pummelling my back, I take deep breaths, repeating the words over and over in my head.

He wants me. He wants me.

I ignore his dramatic exit and focus on the warmth in his gaze, the softness of his touch.

The fact that I'm standing in his shower after dark.

My eyes wander the empty shower shelves, widening when I notice something purple peeking out from underneath the sink. I step out of the shower, shuddering as the warmth of the outside air floods my body once more. I reach for the familiar purple bottle, my eyes widening as I notice the sparse piece of paper attached to it.

Happy Birthday

- Grant

I remember this bottle. Lyndin had offered to buy it for me a few days before my birthday, but I had dragged her away, feeding her excuses about why she shouldn't. And still I had thrown it a longing glance before walking away. A huge smile stretches across my face, feeling as though it spans from ear to ear.

He had bought this for my birthday, hadn't he? Maybe he somehow saw me eyeing the bottle. Or Lyndin told him. In all honesty, I don't care. I don't care that he chickened out on giving it to me.

My birthday present.

I look at the door, feeling a strong urge to burst into the main room and kiss him all over. I've only ever received one birthday present from Lyndin, a gorgeous, plastic but shiny necklace for my seventeenth birthday. I keep it hidden under my mattress, too scared to wear it in case it breaks or I lose it somewhere on the battlegrounds.

And here it turns out that Grant had also gotten me a present.

I've never been happier.

Stepping under the cold stream of water in the shower once again, I squirt out a generous amount of the shampoo into my hand, bringing it to my nose and inhaling deeply. The heavenly smell of lavender and aster floods my senses, putting my agitated soul at ease. A sigh of bliss escapes my lips as I lather the shampoo onto my head, massaging it through the rough, greasy strands and into my scalp. I rub it into my roots and my ends, combing my fingers through them as I wash off all the dirt and grime. I'm on cloud nine as my hands stroke the silky, wet strands. Getting slightly carried away, I squeeze out a sparser portion of shampoo into my hand, lathering it over my body.

The divine aroma surrounds me even after I step out of the shower, standing in front of the cracked, tarnished mirror. For the first time in forever, I like what I see, knowing that Grant likes it, too. I continue combing my fingers through my darkened hair, admiring the wet strands. Mussing and scrunching it, the long strands form into beautiful waves I thought I'd only ever dream of. I grab my top and shorts, placing them on the warm wooden floor beneath me as I take a seat by the vent. A stupid smile adorns my face as I dry my hair in front of the vent, scrunching out the excess water, feeling my fingers tingle with excitement at the sight of the pretty waves. Once all the water has evaporated from my skin and hair, I stand before the mirror once again, brushing my hand through my hair, smelling it, holding it close.

Grant's gift to me.

I pick up my wet, crumpled clothes, tossing them into the sink with newfound determination as I slip into one of his shirts found next to the bottle. My body shudders at how deliciously big it is on me, the size difference between us. I reluctantly put on my shorts as well, feeling bold but not bold enough to walk in on him bottomless. Giving myself a reassuring smile in the mirror, I march out of the bathroom and into the main room, spying him on the tattered couch. Tinkering with another one of his gadgets, he jumps slightly when I wrap my arms around his neck.

Love, warmth, and everything good fills my body as I lean into him from behind, burying my face in the crook of his neck.

Mine.