Two Eyes Down: Nearsighted

Apartment 69

Demi had been back a while, but she hasn't been as close as before. She's probably still shaken up from a while back, or of me. I'm scared of me too. The door opened, and multiple footsteps heavily move through the house. I just lay in my bed, sheltered by my -I have to look out the window- blue covers, praying to whatever God there is that I am not found by whoever is lurking behind the door. It was from behind anyway, just as I thought they were leaving I heard the softer footsteps stop moving, then progressively get louder until the door nob squeaked and Nate stood at my door.

"It's almost noon", he scolds by merely lifting an eyebrow.

But all I reply with is, "You're in my space".

"Get dressed and call Demi, we've got somewhere to be"

"Why does she need to come", I groan in mor of a statement then a question, "  she's been busy with having a life. Maybe if you give her like a week-"

"Foster, you're you. The sky could be falling in us and she'd still come if you called. Call, before I do it myself".

I reach for him, my back stiffening like a wooden pole. Nate rolls his eyes, but the smile wipes the annoyance away as he takes my outstretched hand and jerks me upright; where I promptly wince as my back adjusts to the new position. After sighing at my sheets, I kick them off and embrace the chill of the floor as my feet slowly rely on it. I look at Nate, hoping he'll let me stay in bed for just a short infinity longer but he doesn't, and with a wave he closes the door behind him, his footsteps fading out somewhere in the distance.

A few long minutes after mixing around my cloth filled drawer I have found that I don't know how to but an outfit together. "Nate". In a flash, there he stands, his dark Jean jacket being the only still thing on his body as the breeze of his own speed hits him. "How do you put together an outfit".

He says nothing. He simply steps forward, taking a shirt and handing it to me before counting four drawers down and handing me shorts. "I don't know girl fashion, only men's. I'm sure Demi would love to give you a lesson, though. Playing dress-up with her would probably be a better idea anyway" 

Once I'm completely done with what I need to do Nate drags me to a beat up maroon truck in the driveway. Opening the passenger door for me, he speeds his way around the front. I've been in the vehicle before, but this is my first time seeing it. The inside is grey all over, but it's inconsistent in color and smoothness from being beat up over years of usage. Even the cup holder has damage. Nate slams his door shut and puts the key in the slot before turning. He mutters what sounded like 'piece of shit' before turning it back and forth repeatedly. The car sounded like a hospital patient with tuberculosis. Wheeze, wheeze, cough your guts out, spit a flem ball, cough. Old reliable did start after a few seconds of sounding like death. The sick truck pulled onto the road in a low growl and a little bit of huff and puff.

"Where are we going"? I asked.

"You'll see. But be civil, you feel nothing while he feels everything. I'm leading you in and he's driving you home if that's ok. I have to work again. I would spend more time with you, but things are a little hectic". I nod in agreement as we stop at a red light. The mid-day sun gleams through the left side, creating a glare on the hood and a heat in the space we sit in. The windows are all down, but no AC is available because it's broken. When we finally start, the wind blows my hair all over the place and I have to find one of Nate's beanies in the little space behind us to get it away from me. This being an old truck, there are only three seats and a foot of dead air space behind it. Nate must think this area is where trash belongs, because I can't count how many plastic bags, recites, and wrappers are back here.

When I focus back in on the road ahead I just wander in and out of thought. What do the people walking down there street do? Are any of them criminals? Are they well off? I don't know, and I never will, because they pass through my life at about the speed limit of where we are; a sign had the symbol 48 a little further back.

All Time Low plays on the radio, Nate keeping up with the beat by nodding his head and mouthing the words, his restless leg syndrome -yes that's a thing- going all out, his left knee bouncing away. I never noticed, never having the chance, just how attractive he is. The sun kissing his face may be a part of it, but there's something about those sea green eyes and the dull blond locks of hair that gives off a certain vibe I can't place. Some think the ideal guy has bronze skin, he proves them wrong, he's almost the opposite yet here he is, looking like Poseidon. Nate is cute in a puppy-dog way; gentle, innocent, small. He can create a presence if he tries, it just takes more out of him than for most. The young man grips the steering wheel with confidence in a way, one white knuckled fist doing the work while the other rests on the window slot.

"Natie, we're here".

I look out the window to see a tall white building, the door has a sign I can't read hanging above. I slowly unbuckle and touch the ground with my toes before hopping out of the truck. When I close the door, a rusty piece of it falls off, the only hint that it belongs to the old vehicle being the chipped, faded red paint contrasting. I notice as I look up there is a thick overcast set, the different types of clouds either clumping together or speeding away in wisps. Every so often a rain drop would hit my arm or my cheek, the pavement in which I stand on is started to be poke-a-dotted. Nate leads me in side with a palm gently pressed to my back.

I'm bombarded by the light in the lobby, bouncing off of every shiny surface and reflecting objects on the floor, it's yellow, not the nicest of colors but it is pulled off to look classy without expense. At first I think it's hotel, but the restrictions of budget are clear in the carpets and the old phone on the clerk desk.

We approach the small woman slightly older than us in the back of the room,. When she feels our presence, she sets down the cosmopolitan magazine. I'm greeted by Demi looking flawless on the cover; her hand lays on her hip and her eyes look back at mine, no matter how much i shift my position. "May I help you"?

"Apartment sixty nine please", Nate says with a smile as fake as the jewels on the woman's bracelet. She presses a button on a board and receives a buzz in return. "Go on up, Sir".

"Thank you".

The elevator is just Nate and I, aside from a janitor with a yellow mop bucket on wheels behind us. No one speaks the whole time we're in there.

The second the ding of the elevator sounds and the doors slowly creak open, Nate starts walking and I have no choice but to follow. The hallway we walk into is endless on either end, but Nate knows where to go. He turns left and looks in the same direction, counting the odd numbers and then stops suddenly. I almost bump into the fragile guy. He knocks twice in a very uniform manner, after a bunch of groaning and cursing, the door swings open. Nate backs away so I see who is in the doorway. I'm hit with a stench so bad I almost throw up on his spot.

"Oh good, I was worried you'd come after he changed his mind".

I don't answer, I just stare at the tall, high voiced man dressed in mostly purple before me. Someone I missed so much I tried to hate to numb one strong emotion with another. Aiden's confident voice has relief, his sure-of-himself expression is stripped by the shame his body shows.

It only gets worse once you pass the door, the emotions as well as the mess.

I know another piece of my heart is not too far behind his back. Somewhere in the pig-stye is where my heart itself has been wandering.
----------------------------------------------#CONFIDENT #SNL THE QUEEN IS RULING

How was that? Any of y'all excited for the boy's return? Or do you have other opinions? Tell me in the comments!

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