Pink Walls

Definition Of Guy✓

❄

what if there was another life

and somehow we could choose

if we could be someone else,

what would we have to lose?

"You should go," I said quietly, without looking at Kayden.

Thankfully, he said nothing more about what had happened in the bathroom, he had asked me only two questions: the location of the first aid kit and if I had antibacterial ointment. For the first time since I could remember, someone other than a nurse had taken my hand in theirs and wiped down my wounds in a manner neither of my parents had ever bothered with. Heat still rushed to my ears when I thought about the soft look in his eyes as he wrapped rolls of gauze around my burns.

I hadn't been able to sleep since then. Kayden took my bed—I had insisted—while I claimed the floor as mind like I would have if he hadn't been around. I never slept in my bed unless I really needed to. It was one of the few things in this house that gave me good memories and I didn't want to contaminate it with my pain.

Having Kayden sleep there felt right. Now, whenever I felt alone, I could crawl under the covers and remember this night. I would remember it forever.

With more of such thoughts running through my head, I laid on the floor awake, appreciating the silence as I watched the darkness grow lighter with each passing hour. When the alarm rang eventually I rushed to snooze it, not wanting the moment to end.

Kayden got to it first.

I panicked when I saw him glancing around the room, the little sunlight spilling from the open blinds enough to illuminate everything I had tried to hid at midnight. The first thing I said to him was that he should leave. I didn't even say good morning.

I regretted the words even before they left my mouth but I didn't take them back. I couldn't. He needed to leave, my mother couldn't see him here. Though I couldn't predict what would happen if she did, I instinctively knew it would be bad. Kayden needed to go before my mother got home. I didn't want her hurting him too.

He looked down at me with a knowing smile, the pastel pink alarm clock still in his hands. "Kicking me out already?"

"I won't hurt myself," I said slowly, trying to reassure him despite the words sounding fake to my own ears. I didn't know whether I was getting better or worse at deception.

Kayden shook his head and set the clock back on the bedside table. "But someone else will, won't they?"

I straightened up, dread pooling in my gut. No one had ever guessed it right on their first try. No one ever suspects that someone might be hurting me.

Or maybe they did and they just didn't care, a voice whispered in my head.

My attention snapped back to Kayden. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"I might be homeless," he swung his legs over the bed and stood up, "but I'm not stupid."

"I didn't say anything..." I trailed off when my eyes settled on his back. His muscles flexed as he strode across the room, taking in all the trinkets and photos on the walls.

After taking a bath and wearing decent clothes—mine—Kayden looked... Well, he looked hot.

His eyes were a shade of blue that reminded me of the ocean in children's books, the one that was always someone the same shade—the right shade—and they never seemed to stay still. Only in proper lighting could I truly appreciate how good-looking he was. Curly black hair framed his face, the strands reached just below his neck but before now I'd only seen them up in a ponytail. I couldn't choose which look I preferred.