Youth

Three

I packed the canvases back into the box and slipped it into the shadows under my bed again. Without a word, Atle and I left my room and made our way back to the kitchen.

She plopped back onto the settee as though she hadn't seen my turmoil and I was silently grateful. You only miss normalcy when something abnormal happens to you.

"What's the plan then?" asked Atle expectantly. Her voice was nonchalant. Her eyes were wide.

I had to clear my throat a few time before I could speak.

"I have the tent packed," I said, nodding to my bag pack which was slumped against the kitchen cabinet. "Lewy's on food duty, since he's the only one of us with a job, but I've got marshmallows for the fire."

I immediately noticed how quiet she'd become, how drawn in and unsure, and it was enough of a change to take my mind off of what had just happened and how close we'd teetered to the edge. Her eyebrows knitted together, and she pursed her lips as though she was sucking on something sour and wanted to hide her reaction to it.

"What?" I asked.

"Lewy?"

"Yeah," I said. "I texted you remember. He's a friend from school. Before you told me you were coming home, we'd already made plans so I proposed we all go out together."

The sourness must have exploded in her mouth for Atle winced.

"I wasn't aware I had agreed to that," she said haltingly after a moment.

"He's my best friend from school," I admitted. "I didn't think it would be a problem."

"It's... not," she replied.

I raised my eyebrows at her. "You hesitated."

Atle let out a small, frustrated huff of air and said, "Well, what's he like?"

I opened my mouth to reply but was cut short by a curt knock at the door. I glanced at her, not quick enough to stop the amused smile from quirking my lips.

"It sounds like you're about to find out."

Her entire face twisted, and I patted her knee before she could moodily shove me away, and leapt to answer the door.

Where the air ignited around myself and Atle, I was always sure it dropped a few degrees when Lewy von Bach entered a room.

It wasn't so much that he was a cold person, more his countenance never held a flicker of warmth, and the marble like features of his face ensured he looked more like a statue, than a living human being. His large chest barely moved when he breathed, and his eyes would regard everything with an air of boredom. He was impossibly tall, taller than even I was, with pale skin, never fused with blush, and blond hair that remained the only thing to be moved by outside influences when the wind threaded through it. But what really struck people were his eyes: two light and icy glaciers, more blue than the summer skies, enough to make even the sun freeze over.

He stood in the hallway when I invited him inside, bag slung over one shoulder, bomber jacket loose around his torso. His eyes barely surveyed the rest of the room. An eyebrow rose.

I had never really cared for my friend's indifference. We got along- wasn't that all that mattered?

Atle remained unimpressed.

"Your reputation proceeds you, Mr von Bach," she said pleasantly. I could hear the thinly veiled threat to her voice however, and by the way Lewy's eyebrow rose, it seemed he could too. If that was the case, either Lewy had a good eye or she wasn't doing much to hide it. It was most likely the latter. "You're just as cold and scanty as they say!"