Idiosyncrasies of a Shadow // (ManxMan)

~Chapter 12~

Felix

*~*~*

"Alright."

One of the simplest forms of affirmative language.

I'm 'alright'.

But is anyone ever 'all right'?

If everything is the way it should be,

Then there wouldn't be shadows casted from light,

There wouldn't be rainbows after the storm,

Because the storm wasn't there in the first place.

*~*~*

I stare at Ryland, slightly upset, "Explain to me, to what do I owe you this favor?" He made me ditch Skylar and leave him with my boss so we can do whatever the hell it is he planned. And he informed me of this impromptu excursion 20 minutes ago and expect me to make up an excuse.

"Well, technically you owe yourself this. Since, you know, we didn't have breakfast together the past week and I did promise to make you waffles. So a little dinner waffle action wouldn't be too farfetched. Right?" His hands slowly inching towards my radio, which I don't like being touched or being on at all for that matter. Driving should be safe and with as little distraction as possible. Since Skylar is enough of a distraction I don't need him yelling lyrics like he does at home.

Really don't need screaming in my ear while maneuvering a giant, probably combustible, hunk of metal.

"The conditions." I say simply, feeling an uncomfortable itch in my throat as my thoughts skim through that night's events. And after that night, I have been consistently clammy and nervous in the presence of Ryland.

His hand settles on my dashboard, fingers playing an air piano as he thinks, brows bunched together in search of a drunken memory. Does he even know how to play the piano? There's a piano in the apartment so I assume he does. "I think I was too drunk to remember... I only remember waffles and breakfast."

"Regret is the condition." My cough finally comes up, it did little to sooth my pounding heart as I pull into the parking lot. "... And I didn't." The trip from car to apartment is uncomfortable at best and traumatic at worst. Being squashed into the corner with Ryland's head directly under my chin is the most infuriating thing since memes were created.

Being angry only makes you less like a Jelly Bean. And I like my Jelly Beans.

Skylar's high school voice rang in my head, reminding me of the days when I had a whole weekend with him, just holding each other together so we don't both fall apart. We tried so hard to live normal lives, and without him, I'd probably be in jail.

"I'll um... start the iron and the batter." Ryland says as he places his keys in the dish. For some reason I find the way he hops in a circle on one foot trying to get his shoe off, oddly... precious. His incoherent mumbles come after that, trying to cause a distraction while he walks across the apartment into the kitchen. More importantly out of my view range. "I'll umm... yup, you like strawberries right? I like strawberries. Skylar likes strawberries. Custard? I'll make custard too, why not right? Yup... smart thinking Ryland."

I am tasked with setting the table, which I feel the need to make... intimate. Not in the sense that it is romantic, but just to show my appreciation of him keeping his word for what we had agreed on, even though it was a total mistake sleeping with him. I, myself, am a man of my word, so I can appreciate when someone does the same. And by sleeping with him I mean just that, no genitalia were involved except the existence of them.