sixty seconds

:lonely boy

Sometimes nostalgia attracts you to the same place more times than you breath in a year. Sometimes beauty does. Sometimes pain does. 

Sometimes, idiocy does. 

"What are you doing here?" I look up; and then up again, and more up, until I see his face. Tired and angry and confused. I swallow back my anxiety and cast on a hopeful expression.

"I didn't have anywhere to stay," I begin, and he looks at me suspiciously. "And I thought maybe—"

"You thought..." He mumbles. He runs a hand through his hair and taps his foot. "Why don't you stay with your parents?" He asks, rubbing the back of his neck. My smile falls, and his hand does, too. He stares at me. "Shit, I'm sorry. Look, Blair; I can't be around you right now. It's a bad time." I open my mouth, but he shakes his head. "You can't stay in my apartment. I only have one bed, and one couch, and one crusty-ass roommate."

"You got a roommate?" I ask, eyes wide. He blinks. 

"A lot's changed since you've last been here." I look down at my feet. I can feel his eyes on the top of my head. "Whose flannel is that?" He asks. 

"Some stranger who saw me sleeping on a bench." I mumble. 

"Shit, you slept on a bench? Are you trying to get pnuemonia?"

"If it would improve my chances of guilting you into letting me stay with you for a night or two." I say, looking straight into his eyes and smiling. After a moment of silence, he reluctantly smiles back, then steps back from the door. 

"Fine. Take a shower and throw on one of Levi's shirts, and we'll get you a hotel or something." I shake my head. 

"You don't have to get me a hotel." I say. "I'll find an aunt or something after today." He gives me an incredulous look. 

"An aunt? Aunts are lame. Hotels are cool. Go shower, and I'll make you some toast." I smile and walk into his apartment, then pause. 

"Anthony?" 

"Yeah?" I look at him and smile. 

"Thanks. A lot." He shrugs, and I bound off to shower. Memories wash over me with the warm water, and I let the steam filter through my mind for a while. 

Sometimes a days worth of dirt building up on a girl's skin can turn her thoughts into the morbid variety. I'm pretty sure I looked like hell when Anthony saw me, and I'm pretty sure I'll come out still looking like hell. Sleeping on a piece of wood stuck to the concrete in the middle of a city when the sun isn't shining and the birds aren't chirping and the universe isn't spinning anymore is very uncomfortable, and if it weren't for Van's flannel, I'm almost certain I'd still be on that bench. 

Frozen. And they wouldn't be singing let it go, because I would've already let my soul go to the heavens. 

"Hey, you almost done in there? I barely make enough money to support my shoe fund, let alone pay for your female water bill." I smile at Anthony's voice, and turn the water off, grabbing towels and wrapping one around my body, using one to dry my hair. I swing the door open and walk past him into his kitchen, sitting on the counter. He eyes me from afar, then walks over to me. 

"Hey." I say quietly. He blinks. 

"Hey." He clears his throat. "Uh, bread, toast, made," 

"The master of coherant sentences is finally tripped." I say, jumping off his counter, taking the plate and bringing it over to the couch. I sit down and stare ahead. "Thanks, Anthony. A lot. I mean it. This... I know it must be really surprising, and I'm sorry I showed up so abruptly, but I really appreciate it." He shrugs.