In The Eyes Of a Saint

S I X

It's small but a home. I like it a lot. There are a few football and baseball posters on the wall. A tall, thin book shelf on each side of the TV. The books are lined up by size.

I look to the left to see a small kitchen area, everything neat and tidy. And as I look around I notice almost nothing is out of place. Then only one thought runs through my head:

He's an OCD neat freak. I'll probably mess something up and get killed by him. I'm probably gonna die anyway. I should've ran and jumped when I had the chance. Shit, I am so going to be killed. I mean, I'll be dead but that's not how I wanna go--people will remember me and my death will drag on. Maybe I can like jump out a window. We're still far enough from the ground, right? Maybe he'll get distracted and I can–

A wave in front of my face cuts off my thoughts. Erik looks at me like I'm just a little crazy and I realize I'm sitting on the couch.

"You okay?" he asks and I nod.

"Yeah." I clear my throat. "I just got lost, you know, staring into space." I wave my hand around as if that'd explain it. I turn to him and my breath catches in my throat. His eyes look at me caringly, in a way only Danny or Jack's ever looked at me. His eyes are a bright green with flecks of gold in them. His eyelashes are long and frame his eyes perfectly.

"I never got your name," he says.

"Are you asking for it?" I smirk and look up at him.

"I thought that was obvious." I sigh.

"It's Noa. Noa Lional." We sit in silence for a minute before he speaks again.

"I have a guest bedroom you can stay in. I'm supposed to go to work but my friend owns the place so he'll understand if I don't show up." I shake my head.

"I'm not broken. I can be left alone." He smiles and chuckles.

"I know. But I don't know about you, I've had a pretty shit morning. I could use a day off for once. And I'm starving. You?" I shake my head then pull my knees to my chest, resting my chin between them while making sure the dress covers everything. Erik gets up goes to the little kitchen. When I wrap my arms around my legs, my fingers touch something warm and wet. I look down at my leg to see a huge cut on my calf and blood slowly dripping down.

"Um, Erik?" I look into the kitchen and he's looking at me.

"Yeah?"

"I think I cut myself when you pulled me down. Do you have any like stitches or something?" He looks through the window in the wall and sees the blood on my leg. His eyes widen and he rushes back Into the room. I watch as he looks for something on the shelves and then pulls out a first aid kit.

"You should probably clean that first." He takes out some wipes and hands them to me. I hiss when they first touch the cut but quickly get over the pain.

I finish wiping the partially dried blood and Erik quickly places some gauze on it. I watch as he carefully puts a few pieces of tape over the gauze to keep it on. I watch him do this with such focus and precision it makes me wonder.

"Are you a doctor?" I ask before I think. He smiles up at me and shrugs.

"I work at the café that's like across the street but I'm going to medical school. I graduate in a few months and I've been doing a residency for the past three years so then I only have one more before I can fully become a doctor. My Dad was an oncologist and my mom was a nurse and her parents were doctors so I guess it runs in the family." I smile at him.

"That's cool." He nods and closes the first aid kit.

"What about you?" He asks and I pull my legs closer to my chest.

"What about me?" I mumble back and he goes back into the kitchen.

"What do you wanna do?" I shrug even though he can't see it.

"I dunno. My parents want me to be a lawyer like them. Stick up the ass and everything." I hear him laugh and smile to myself. "I really wanna be an author or photographer. My work was. . .different though. I have felt so much pain that I was able to take beautiful things and make a person see the sadness. 'You can find pain in anything beautiful'. That's what my high school photography teacher always said. And it was true. My parents thought it was a waste of time though, despite the support and praise everyone gave me.

"So, the second I graduated, I left and went to a film school and graduated. But I started getting depressed for some reason, started not caring about that stuff and got a job to take care of myself. I've just been surviving life for the past two or three years." I shrug again. Tears sting my eyes and my nose starts tingling like I'm about to sneeze. It happens every time I cry and so I take a few shaky deep breaths and wipe at my eyes. I don't even know why I'm crying.

"Hey, you okay?" I didn't notice he had walked back in with two plates of food. I ignored his question and eyes the plates. "Oh, I, um, thought you might get hungry eventually so I just grabbed you a plate." I nod and look back at it. There's a small piece of chicken breast and some green beans. I smile and the action allows a few tears to slip past my eyes.

Erik puts the plates down then wipes at the tears, chasing them away with his soft touch. His eyes are warm and understanding and his lips are a light shade of pink. They look soft.

"Why are you crying?" he asks softly and I look back at the food.

"My grandma used to make something like that for me when I was upset. Her famous breaded chicken breast and green beans with carrots. It's my favorite meal." He smiles at me.

"Then it's a good thing I made it." We both chuckle and I wipe my tears away, a real smile on my face for the first time in five years.