By Design

The Paradox of Blood-related Strangers

'Not bad.'

'Not bad at all.'

'Actually, it's incredible. We're incredible,' Elliot said as he smugly crossed his arms. I peeked up at him with a twitch of a smile.

We both had a fair bit of vanity between us (more him than I, though) and this bit of vanity was what prompted us to stand in front of our art project (which was displayed in the Great Hall!!) for a full thirty minutes. Thirty minutes of admiring and 'criticising' our lightbulb garden display. All our conversations followed a similar template:

Elliot: My, what do we have here.

Me: *gasps* isn't it absolutely stunning.

Elliot: I declare that this defies **insert famous artist name**'s works her/himself.

Me: the tears are brimming *dabs eyes*

Elliot: there is just one problem with it though...

Me: how could you possibly fault this holy display of holiness.

Elliot: ...I can't. That's the problem. It's too perfect.

Etcetera etcetera.

It wasn't the first time that we did the weird roleplay. A week ago, three days after Elliot and I had reconciled, we finally began constructing our project and for some reason Elliot created (yet another) alter-ego named Dr Whisky and declared me his third cousin thrice-removed, Miss Beer.

I asked why my alter-ego was inferior to his in both title and alcohol in which he replied that since I'd never drank alcohol and probably never would (which made me beam because he was exactly right), it was only fair to me that I got the measlier character. That was good enough for me.

'I can't believe we actually finished the bloody thing though,' Elliot said, shaking his head.

'We pulled two all-nighters,' I reminded him. Those all-nighters began as a fun get-together with midnight snacks and mischief but time did not bide well with us and by five o'clock in the morning the room's atmosphere was so heavy with a PMSing person and an almost dead person sinking in it.

Even though I was sleepy I still had the courtesy to offer Elliot a pad and a hot water bottle for his cramps, though this wasn't well-received and he nearly stripped to remind me of his gender. I told him that he didn't have to be ashamed and he told me that I should shut up before he really pulls his pants (and more) down.

Elliot sighed at the memories that he'd rather forget. To be honest, I wanted to erase them from my mental database too.

'You didn't have to bring that up,' he groaned.

'Crazy equals genius,' I quoted to him.

'Argh.'

I chuckled lightly and turned away from our artwork, bored of staring at it. Elliot followed suit and we headed to the library.

'Teresa,' Elliot said, stopping for me to catch up with his (irritatingly) long strides.

'Yes?' I panted slightly.

'Do you have any plans for the weekend?' he asked casually, slipping his hands into his pockets.

'I do,' I answered.

'Oh really?' He seemed surprised and halted slightly in his steps. 'What do you have planned?'

'I'm going to visit someone,' I said. He waited for me to elaborate. I didn't.

'I hope you enjoy your visit,' he said cordially when I made no answer.

'Thank you,' I bit my lip slightly. 'I hope so too.'