Dents

[+] A Fistful of Peanuts

"A... A week? Are yew sure?"

"Yeah. I'm sure."

I covered the lower half of my face, trying to hide my distress with the hope it wouldn't rub off on him. The springs of his mattress wailed noisily whenever I shifted my weight, betraying my façade of composure. The only light in the room was cast by the blinking lights of the DVD player near the television set. The air was stale. My heart was uneasy.

"How could I... Wha' - Wha' was I doin' all 'at time then?"

"Normal things, mostly. But you did things you wouldn't do, too."

2D watched me with uncertainty. His complexion had become sickly and washed out. He fidgeted ceaselessly with his hands, a nervous habit that he hadn't displayed for the entirety of the last week.

"'D. Do you know how to make eggs over easy?"

He gave me a look like I'd slapped him across the face with a dead fish.

"Wha'? Yew know I can't. Can't even make 'em scrambled righ'."

He ran a hand through his hair.

"Wha's 'at got to do wifth anyfink anyway?"

I gripped his sheets with an anxious fist.

"It's got everything to do with it. You made them for me yesterday. It was the most perfect breakfast I've ever seen. Don't you remember?"

The worry in my voice was palpable. 2D shook his head. He wore an expression of complete bewilderment.

"I knew there was no way you'd be able to do that," I sighed, "So, how did you?"

"I don't know. I really don't know. I don't rememba doing anyfink yesterday."

He searched my eyes for answers I didn't have.

"Wha's happening to me?"

"I don't know," I admitted, "But we're going to figure this out. Don't worry."

2D weakly lifted himself from the bed. He approached the window. With his back to me, he drew the curtains, letting in a blinding ray of light from the world outside. In the sun, he was radiant. He had taken on the appearance of an angel cast from the gates of heaven.

He cracked the window open. Habitually, he lit a cigarette and passed it to me. He lit another for himself.

Smoke hung in the far reaches of the ceiling. It was scattered about by the strong draft blowing in from outside. 2D's hands were shaking. I dropped the cigarette in the ashtray and embraced him in my arms, pressing my face against his back.

"I'm scared," he whispered, "I don't like 'is at all."

The rest of the night carried on without further incident. We watched Night of the Living Dead and Invasion of the Body Snatchers. 2D was curled on his side with his head in my lap. I ran my fingers through his hair. Halfway through the second movie, his breaths shifted from edgy, half-drawn pants to a steady hum. He had fallen asleep. As the credits rolled, I eased myself out from under him to get something to drink.

I turned to face him from the doorway. The moon had risen, a brilliant streak of white dancing over the hazy window glass. The curtains fluttered in the biting winter breeze. The golden light pouring in from the hallway cast over 2D like a spotlight, highlighting him in the darkness. He was frail. His brow was twisted in disquiet. His shoulders shivered beneath the blanket. I was reminded of Plastic Beach and how helplessly frightened he was, even in a state of unconsciousness.

Seeing him like that again caused a painful hurt to blossom in my chest.

When I got downstairs, Noodle was crouched before the laptop we used to call Murdoc earlier that day. Her long fingernails clicked on the keys. Her emerald green eyes occasionally scanned the screen for errors as she worked.

"Hey, Noodle."

"Saoirse-san. Still awake?"

"Yeah. I can't sleep."

She smiled, gently closing the laptop.

"Me either," she huffed.

I wanted to ask her about 2D, but I couldn't find the words. Incapable of anything else, I flopped onto the sofa behind her. The cushion was sticky. My shoulders slumped.

"Are you worried about 2D?"

"Yeah, I am. I... I don't know what's going on with him. He's so different than he was before."

Noodle spun around to meet my eyes. In her grasp was a steaming mug of black tea. The aroma of honey unsettled my stomach. She nodded for me to continue.

"I can't even ask him about it. He doesn't remember anything."

Noodle's face went white as a sheet.

"You should talk to Russel."

"Russel? Why? What does he know about this?"

Russel had been actively dodging me at every opportunity. He wouldn't make eye contact with me anymore. I was already suspicious that there was some connection between 2D and Russel's abnormal behavior. What Noodle said implied that there may have been merit to such a theory, after all.

"If what you have told me is true, Saoirse-san, Russel would know more than any of us."

She made nervous sweeping motions along the handle of her cup, never bringing it to her lips.

"I have an idea of what may be affecting 2D, but I do not have enough information to be certain of anything. I believe Russel might."

At last, she took a single sip of her tea.

"Talk to Russel."