The Telepath » Enoch O'Connor

iii - Quite The Peculiar Boy

the telepath| iii

QUITE THE PECULIAR BOY

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The loud bang that had come from the other side of the thin wall didn't stop after just one. It sounded again and again and just when I thought it had stopped, it sounded once more. It astonished me how no one else seemed to care. Either they were too far away to hear or they were just simply used to it. A large part of me believed the latter.

I, however, was not used to being awoken several times by clatter so emerged from my bed in a fury. Without even thinking of it, my feet had somehow carried me to the door and I'd soon found myself pounding on it, not caring if the owner of the noise was the bird herself.

There was no reply for some time and I'd almost given up hope, turning my back to the door, when I heard a faint creaking followed shortly by a 'Can I help you? In an unfortunately familiar Scottish accent.

Turning around slowly, I was met with the sight of a certain grumpy-faced boy who, despite his words, had a tone that suggested he was all but willing to be of any assistance. The door stood open just enough for him to peer around the corner meaning any sight into the room was blocked by his body and the door. Had I been in any other mood, I may have questioned the strange stance but the peculiar's scowl mixed with my lack of sleep meant asking too many questions would never have ended well. Not that this would stop me from my initial task.

"Yes, you can," I replied, attempting to keep my voice calm to not wake the rest of the house. Though my jaw was clenched and my hands balled into fists as I continued. 

"You realise the walls are thin, and I can't sleep because of whatever you're hiding in there." 

Enoch seemed completely unfazed, staring back with not a scowl but even worse, a completely stoic expression. 

"Ah, how terrible for you" He retaliated, words dripping with sarcasm, before decidedly stepping back and attempting to close the door, just to be stopped by my hand on the opposite side keeping it pushed that bit open.

The boy sighed heavily and stepped farther into view, folding his arms over his chest. Though the contents of the room remained hidden. It was strange, I was sure had he not been attempting to hide it so much, I wouldn't have been at all curious about the contents of an annoying teenage boy's room. Now I was itching to take a look.

"What are you even doing in there that's so loud," I asked with a frown to which he smirked, the first show of any sort of emotion I'd seen from him since I'd arrived.

"I'll show you if you'd like?" He offered, though his tone hinted that it was more of a dare. Not that I could imagine why I'd need to be dared at that point.

I took a moment to reply, not trusting the boy who'd done nothing but be short and snappy with me in the day I'd known him, before giving a small, hesitant nod. If he was going to keep me up, I might as well have seen just what was so important to be doing at god knows what time in the morning.

He stepped aside and directed an arm towards the dimly lit room, letting me in as if some sort of gentleman. I rolled my eyes at his attempt but entered nonetheless.

The first thing that struck me was the strong scent of chemicals that I could barely believe I hadn't smelled from outside the door. I shot him a look, but he didn't seem to notice as he took a seat at a worn desk littered with clay and a myriad of tools and scrap in the centre of the room, continuing to work on whatever he was doing. It had taken my eyes a moment to adjust to the light before I took in my surroundings.