Armament

Chapter 4 - Colin

I wake up a few hours later, the lights still on, thankfully. I lasted about two minutes without the lights on when I tried to fall asleep until my breathing got so bad that I almost passed out trying to turn the light back on. That's probably not a good sign but I have better things to worry about right now.

Evanel wakes me up for tea which I grudgingly get up for, it's not as if I can actually eat any of the food. I only get up because I probably need to make an appearance so that boy doesn't think I'm dead or something. I don't want him to think that I'm completely weird either.

He leads me back through the halls again where we find the boy sitting in the same place as before, from the glazed look in his eyes I don't think he's moved. Actually the same tray he had been eating from is still there. I might not have to worry about being the weird one.

I slide into the seat in front of him only to find him throwing himself backwards, almost toppling off the bench. My eyes widen, almost expecting him to freak out or something.

He blinks a couple of times, like waking up from a dream, "Oh, Asha, you scared me."

I think that's an understatement.

"What was your name again?" I ask, deciding to ignore the weirdness.

"I told you, I don't have a name," he slides his tray to the side, "I can't remember it."

"Oh yeah." I don't know how I forgot that.

"Have you come back to get some lunch?"

I squint at him, trying to figure out if he's okay, "Lunch ended hours ago, it's tea time now."

He blinks again, "Really?"

I hum a 'yes.'

He bites his lip, nodding slowly, "I guess I should get some dinner then."

"Whatever they're cooking smells nice, you should get whatever it is," I suggest.

"Yeah..." He trails off, standing up and trailing towards the line.

I scan the room, searching out Evanel. I spot him by the doors like he was earlier but instead of standing straight with a blank face his eyes follow the boy's crumpled body with a look of something I can't quite pinpoint. It's like I'm watching his heart break, but why would he feel that way?

Before I can really speculate he's acting normally again and sends me a reassuring smile and nod, I return it but can't get the image of his face out of my head.

The boy comes back with a new tray of lasagne and I almost want to risk eating it and don't even get me started on the cup of water he has. This is probably the thirstiest I've been in my life, my throat is literally parched.

"You still not getting anything?" he asks, slightly more concerned than before.

I shrug, avoiding the question, "I was thinking that since you can't remember your name that we should give you a new one."

What I say easily takes his mind off what I'm eating and scrunches his face up in concentration, "I suppose, but I don't know what I should call myself."

"Bartholomew?" I say, holding back a snort.

He pulls his face, "I don't think anyone has used that name since the 1800s."

"Herbert?"

He makes a gagging sound.

"Sparsh?"

"Is that even a name?"

"Probably not, but some kid in my high school had that name."

"Okay, but seriously, what should my name be? I can't really go around without a name."