A Completely Different Story (Completed)

Chapter 17: It's Not Your Fault, Nick Waygrae (Part 2/2)

He held my existence tightly. Just brought me to shed tears as well. This man's so hurt that simply reminded me of how damaged I am now. If he only knew. I didn't want to show much of my affection. So there, I held his forearms as I tried getting it off. He didn't mind looking up. I took a step back and bent down free from his arms, getting his pillows from the floor as I randomly tossed both of it on his bed. One landed on his blanket. Compiled the books on my cot as I kept all of them inside my knapsack. Later on went outside the resting area to get a cup of water, one dry face towel and some coffee for him. I got back bringing the drinks and some sugar and milk as I placed them on the small wooden table painted white near Kadar. I then also took one of his anti-fever medicines from the same surface as I bit the wrapper and opened it up. Gave it to him with the covering still attached. Held his glass filled with water as well.

"Take it. And get some rest." I said to him, "We'll watch something later."

He looked up at me with his crimson eyes in addition to his tears that scattered and dried up on his cheeks. "W-what do you mean? . . . Watch what?" he started asking.

"A movie." I answered, placing the things that I held back on top of his table including his medicine. Knew he won't accept it anyway.

"A-are you, are you kidding me!?" he reacted, "Can't you really see? . . . I need to finish that book!" he still has the power to risen up his voice.

"Don't worry about it." I told him, "... Just sleep."

"But I don't even have enough fortune to buy my favourite food for lunch!?"

"Sleep, Waygrae. Sleep." I replied in final just right before I got back into my bed. I then continued reading. Giving him the freedom to help himself without me watching.

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"I hope you can still forgive me Sarah." said the boy to her.

"I do, Leighton. I'll always do." she answered, passionately.

". . . Is that it?" Kadar suddenly reacted while watching it. Emotionless. Been sitting at the other side of the couch with his sweater on, eating his bucket of butter melted popcorn which seemed to be astonishingly limitless. "God. I hate love stories." the show isn't even done yet.

"You've said the same thing for like, the twentieth time already." I told him without removing my eyes from the motion picture projected at the plain white wall, lights off ever since we got there. Resting my left arm on my shoulder bag which was placed next to Kadar's that created this division and distance between us.

"Well, yes, I know that." he said, "But she literally forgave him after everything he did to her." he has some serious problems with the movie.

"Well maybe you just can't stay mad at someone you truly love." I said, "And for the record, he didn't actually did it in purpose. People make mistakes, Kadar. But at least try not to." I've actually watched the film for the millionth time. Well, it was, indeed . . . dramatic. Felt his boredom as well. I can't really believe how he loves popcorn so much. Reminded me of Louie. he magnificent fries man.

He remained silent for a second, "Pssh." he in a sudden, uttered. ". . . Who cares about that stupid film anyway." subsequently he looked away, still eating. I relaxed myself from speaking for the next number of seconds, paying attention to the moving two-dimensional thing in front of us. "Why did you even bother bringing me here anyway?" he questioned, felt him moving his head facing me. Perhaps he may now be called—the man of sudden. At least he didn't ask me in a rude way.