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I walk to the bathroom and shower. Two minutes after I'm done Zombie knocks on the door, twice, and then I knock back, twice, so he knows he can come inside.
I sit beside the sink and he sits in front of me, leg outstretched and calve warm against my own. I try to ignore the feeling of it as I lean back against the cool tiles to centre myself.
I still wasn't used to him touching me, or me allowing it. He knows that it takes me fifteen minutes to even relax and so he waits for me to nod my head before the speaks. He's practically bursting at the seams when I finally do.
"What's your problem with Nugget?" is his first question. I tense and shake my head. That wasn't something I wanted to get into right now. Or ever.
"What's your favourite color?" I blink at him as if to ask 'really?' but he just shrugs his shoulders and smiles.
"I don't know," I reply after a long moment. "It changed after the Arrival. Which do you want to know?"
"Both."
"Uh, okay. Before: red. After: ...brown."
His eyes sparkle with interest. "Brown? What's so amazing about brown?"
My little brother has brown hair and brown eyes. And so does Nugget. And so do you, Zombie. But I don't say that. I just shrug. "What's yours?"
"Well, depends on who you ask."
"What?"
"My. . ." he trails off and the smile on his face disappears. He glances up at me to see if I noticed and I pretend I didn't. "Someone important to me says it's pink. I think it's blue. Maybe it is. I don't know."
Someone important to him thinks it's pink. Who it was I wasn't sure, but I had a feeling that it has something to do with the locket around his neck. I still don't question him. If he had wanted to tell me, he would have.
"Favourite movie?" I change the subject like he had done for me. He sends me a short smile when he answers.
"Don't laugh."
"No promises."
"Ghost."
"Fine, fine. What is it?"
"The Notebook."
And I snort. I can't help it. The Notebook? Seriously? Zombie really was a huge sap.
He nudges my foot, grinning and pointing his finger at me. "You said you wouldn't laugh!"
"I'm not laughing," I say, smirking. "Not at all. But, really? The Notebook?"
"What?" He asks, and he's the one laughing this time. "It's really good!"
"It's sad," I retort. "I always cry."
He pauses and all playfulness wipes out of the air. "Sorry." He clears his throat when he notes the change in atmosphere. "It's just. . . weird to even think about you. . ."
"What?" I challenge. "Crying? Having emotion? I am a human being, Zombie."
He winces. "That's not what I meant."
"Sounded like it was."
He sighs when I pull my legs to my chest to stop him from touching me. He knows me well enough now that if I start to feel threatened or like he is getting too close to me, I will revert back into my emotionless self. But he tries to stop me this time.
"You never told me what yours was," he says quietly. I stare at him blankly. "Your favourite movie."
I stare at him for a long moment. "Don't know."
He sighs. "We're done talking?"
"Yes," I reply instantly. And I regret it. For the first time, I regret it. So I follow it with a quick, "No. No, we're not. Sorry."
He's smiling again and it's enough to make my stomach warm. "Okay. So, favourite movie?"
