Not All Is What It Seems

Enter The Jesus

"Now if you want the rest of my lives, read a damn history book. Its all plagues and excuses for femocide anyway." I finish off. Both Kyle and Trevor stare through me at my past almost, comprehending things they shouldn't.

  "That still doesn't explain why you were missing for half a year." Kyle responds, he takes a deep inhale through his nose making his biceps and jaw tighten. Goosebumps start appearing on his arms and he starts rubbing his shoulders. He always does that when he's stressed. He always does that around me.

"The part you want, youre gonna have to be patient for, Fruktkaka." Flicking my glance to Trevor. I never trusted him, he had a nasty habit of treating women like toys. That and his break up with one of me and Kyle's best friends was a particularly traumatic one. Like hell I was gonna explain how his dad had a position in one of the worst organizations out there. Second to the Canadian government.

"Then when huh? Cause youre already a wanted felon, for shooting Mr. Brodson infront of the whole class!" Kyle spits out.

"Yeah, but it's not like any of those monkeys are gonna remember it" I retort. Kyle rubbed his face as if that could keep the now frustration at bay. Then quickly got up and told Trevor to leave. Trevor didn't argue,  you don't fuck with Kyle when he's like this.
I, on the other hand, found a book in the chair I was sitting in and started flipping through it.

I hear mumbling at the front of the house, then that weird rubber rustling sound that you get when closing a door. A few seconds of soft feet pattering on title later, and he sighs when he's at the doorway.

"So I was gone for 6 months?" My voice came out a little hoarse. I keep starring at the paragraph I have been trying to read. It was some World War 2 biography. It's not helping me start this conversation anymore than Kyle is.

"Yeah" he replied, and steps into the room.

"I was recruited, by a organization" I start slowing, each word rolling around in my mouth. I glance at the computer monitor on the desk against the wall in front of his bed. The first lesson i was taught was that there's eyes and ears everywhere.

I hear him move closer to me, slowly, like one would approach a feral horse. "What kind of..." He swallows hard. "organization?" At the end he cleared his throat. Just fucking great, now both of us are awkward and nervous. Come on Kyle, half a year and you still don't have the nuts to handle my epic intensity. Ironic, now I can actually say I'm intense.

"I'm a supernatural mercenary, now you're in danger just for knowing. Thanks for letting me spend the nigh-"

"Just shut up."

His eyes are always one of the hardest things for me to read. The color closer to that of looking 20 feet down in a hole in the ground. They're brown, I know they are, I've seen fragments of brown in sunlight. They're just so dark that seeing his pupils react to anything is like asking to see Jesus's body. Extremely improbable. I learned in my second year of knowing him to watch his jaw and his eyebrows. Those goddamm eyebrows talk more than he does. The jaw makes the skin around his eyes move a certain way that it faintly whispers of what the pupils would say.

There had been times where I startled him enough to make his eyes lighten. There has been other times I've seen him enraged and the color go so dark it was the same as gazing apon two polished pearls of obsidian. When he's horny its sorta the same thing. Now is one of those times he has obsidian eyes. I'm pretty sure it's not because he wants to take me to bed either, but I have been wrong in the past.