Ender Origins: Beginning

Flashbacks

Galaxy

Robert pulled me all the way to his house. It was nice, neat, and not very big. The front door was pure oak, from what I could see, and the walls were likewise, of pure wood.
But because of my height, I needed to tip toe to see the view in front of me, the boy blocking me like some kind of golem. Yes, he was that tall. I could tell he was about 6 feet or something; I felt like an ant in front of him.
And oh no, I hadn't forgotten about the scenario earlier. My face was already hot with embarrassment. The way he looked at me at that moment, his green eyes, his red hair... It made my mind go fuzzy. I felt like I had seen him somewhere. Maybe that was why I felt so comfortable in his presence. Robert felt familiar to me. He really did, and I couldn't shake off the feeling.
However, I shook some incoming thoughts away.
"Your house is nice," I said, and he turned his head towards me, smiling right after.
"Thanks. It was old and rusty at first, but me and Connie fixed it."
Connie? Who was that? Was that his girlfriend?...
Still thinking, I nodded. "Good work." It shouldn't have hurt that much, it shouldn't have mattered that much to me.
He opened the door, leaving me space to enter first. And so I did, and he shut the door behind me, but not before coming in.
In the darkness, I could spot a couch, a TV, a coffee table, and other things. I squinted harder, but to no avail. My eyesight was sore already.
"Ah, sorry, I didn't turn on the lights."
Robert disappeared somewhere, and powered the generator, while I plopped myself down on the couch, placing my bag down on the ground and lowering my hood. I hesitated whether to remove it entirely or not, but soon I did, folding it carefully inside the inner pockets of my bag.
He came back shortly, and I could see him in more detail now.
Cherry red hair, check. Lots of freckles, check. Emerald-coloured eyes, check. A white patch in his hair, check.
A soft smile, check.
My cheeks flushed once more and he laughed, sitting down on one of the armchairs as well, brushing off his knees. He probably caught me examining him.
Robert ran a hand through his hair and sighed.
"You can take the bed tonight, I'll occupy the couch."
"There's no need—"
"I insist. The couch is comfortable anyway, as you can see, so it won't be a problem for me."
I couldn't object to that, so I just nodded. I couldn't make the rules in someone else's house, anyway.
He took off his jacket and scarf and placed them behind him, on top of the armchair he was sitting on.
"So... What do you want to eat? You're probably hungry. And also: make yourself comfortable."
He laced his fingers together for a moment and stood up, possibly heading for the kitchen. I was meanwhile lost in thought.
"When you're hungry, you don't exactly have a preference. Or rather, there's no availability to choose," I said quietly, taking off my boots. I crossed my legs together, on top of the couch, and I relaxed, leaning back.
I could hear a chuckle coming out of him. "Yes, yes, I suppose that's rather correct." I turned my head towards where he was going, and I quietly repositioned myself on the couch so I could see better.
"I'm making fried eggs and beef sandwiches. Is that to your liking?"
"Mhm," I said, a small nod following it. He looked at me for a moment before returning to his cooking.
The sweet aroma of food came all the way to my nose, making my stomach go fuzzy. I had a rather adequate sense of scent, but I was unable to describe watching him cook. It was so cool...
I knew only a few things to save my skin, like, how to chop off the skin of fruits, or how to roast beef, or fry an egg, stuff like that. And even though the dinner was in and of itself so simple, Robert made it seem like he was in a cooking show. He even smiled as he cooked.
When I finally realised that I'd probably stared for too long, I turned my back on him and continued to look at the room around me, as well as myself.
As my eyes trailed around everything they could capture, I saw my reflection on the TV's black screen and I tried to analyse it the best I could.
My hair was still the wild purple mess it had always been, and my eyes were twinkling with the same dim light, that I'd already grown used to. Others saw it as abnormal and unique, to me it seemed... weird. However, that fact didn't faze me whatsoever.
But I was visibly pale and tired, maybe from losing blood, too.
And Robert seemed to get reminded by that as well.
"Oh, crap—" he cursed, walking— more like running— all the way to me. "I have to medicate your face first."
"You have left the stove open, stupid," I said, albeit quietly, and I rubbed my cheek. Robert widened his eyes in response.
"Stop, you'll roughen the wound more— and no, I haven't, I turned it off before I even got to remembering about this. The food's already on the table."
Yes, I could smell that. The steam and delicious aromas revolving around the plates were enough to get my stomach growling again. The guard sighed.
But distracting him from medicating my cheek was my number one priority.
"Wait here one more second, please." Emphasis was added to that last word.
He left and disappeared behind a door, which I presumed would be the bathroom, or the bedroom. One of both.
I thought to myself, what if I run away this instant? Take some things and escape? How can I trust this person?
But another thought controverted my other thoughts entirely: Why did I have the impulse of running away?
If he proved unreliable, I'd flunk him. However, it wouldn't be bad if I got a hang of that place... Daltharea...
Robert came back shortly after, interrupting my trail of thoughts, thus making me have a visible pout on my face. He chuckled in response. "Your cheek will get infected, if we don't treat it, Galaxy. You know that."
I shook my head. "Sure, sure."
He sat next to me, or to be more exact, positioning himself in front of me, prepping the gauze and alcohol in his hands, and got to work.
The red-headed boy patted my cheek as if I were his patient, or a kid, and applied medicinal alcohol to it right away. It stung really bad, and I bit my lip. There was no way in hell I'd let any sound erupt of me. I was very well-preserved, and I was proud of that.
"...Tell me if it hurts, okay?"
I nodded again. How was he being so nice to me?
And the close proximity wasn't helping, either...
I continued to look at him as he treated my cut cheek, wiping the blue substance covering it. The weird thing was that I could pinpoint every detail in my head, and I didn't even question them. Blush dusted my cheeks. He sure felt familiar.
He looked and felt familiar. How much, though, that was the question...
I started feeling bad for myself at that moment: how dared I thought things like that. That longing... it was making me feel unusually awkward and I didn't like it.
Robert brushed a finger against my cheekbone, and I shivered. He took the gauze and covered the wound with it. His gaze shifted to mine for a second and we both felt tension between us. His lips parted like he wanted to say something but then he did not, and that kinda pissed me off. I did that too. That's why.
"I... I need to treat your wound... at your side, too," Robert mumbled. I could only nod in response.
"After dinner. I'm hungry."
I was doing everything to get him out of my head. This wasn't normal. He also seemed to protest, judging by his look, but he said nothing, respecting my decision.
"You do you."
His voice was so low and husky I could barely hear him. My mind was buzzing.
We both got up, and we soon were shoulder to shoulder. He looked down at me and laughed. "You're rather short when you're standing up."
"Shut up."
My voice wasn't mean— yet it was strangely playful. We were familiar with each other from the start...
I was getting weird images of him telling me that, but in a different way.