Inhuman // Crankgameplays //

~16

{your pov}

"That was a close one, indeed," I hear a familiar voice say behind me. "They suspect something, huh?"

Ethan's sitting on the edge of the bed. Fiddling with his hands, he looks at the closet; thinking.

"Yup. And I don't blame them, as I'm such a bad liar. . ."

He chuckled, "just what we need. . ."

I nod and sit next to him. He looks so far from earth; lost in his thoughts.

"So what you thinking 'bout?"

"How we can do this without making a noice. With 'this' I mean the whole 'turning the closet into a room' plan."

"Yeah, I got that. And I'm not too sure of that either."

We sigh. This is not going to be easy, and we know this darn well. There are so many problems that our standing right in our way;
- we have to get a lot of material such as "smell-proof" things, etc.
-but we can't get out of the building due to the apocalypse being out there and we can get infected with the virus.
-we can't make a single sound, but-
-we do have to take the wall out.

And the biggest problem being: we don't know how to get rid of these problems.

"I heard them talking," I change the topic, knowing Ethan wouldn't react to the last thing I said.
"They were talking about 'you know who'. Which to me seemed like they referred to you."

"Yeah, that's pretty obvious." Ethan didn't turn to look at me. "What'd they say?"

"Well, i didn't hear everything. But I think they were talking about you 'not being one of them'. They were guessing what you were. Something along those lines. They were saying stuff about Dove soap. And that you were pixie. Then they stopped talking because Tyler dragged me into the room."

"Hm," was all he said before turning his head to me, "you didn't get any of that, did you?"

I shake my head, "not really."

"The Dove soap,  for example. You know something about that?" His eyes look straight into mine. I can't read his expression, however.

"That I'm not really a fan of it?"

He shakes his head. Which I think is understandable at the thing I just said.

"No. Weres smell that when pixies are around."

"Hm. Fair enough, I guess. So they smell Dove soap. But really they smell you?"

He nods.

"Okay, then I should get a bottle of Dove soap and pretend that's me, simple. Problem solved, right?"

"Not exactly, but close enough. Not a bad idea."

I smirk. Just a little one, though.

"And there's something else they talked about? About seeing or smelling things?"

I shrug, "don't know. This is the only thing they said before they concluded you were pixie."

"Do they know what kind of pixie I am?" He asks. I don't get this question. What kind? Are there different kinds of them as well?!

"Uhm. . . What kind?"

He nods, "yeah. Did they say anything about pixie dust?"

"Not that I heard. .  . Why?"

"Because if they see gold pixie dust flying around, that'd say enough about me."

I still don't get it.