Lament

Chapter Ten [pt. 1]

I woke up to the smell of chicken in the frying pan. I didn't open my eyes, letting myself listen to the swift movements of Daniel shuffling around the small spaced kitchen. Whatever he was making with the chicken smelled delicious.

There was a distinct sound of freaked popping and then: "Damn!"

I opened my eyes and found Daniel shaking his right hand quickly as if trying to get something off of himself. I laughed quietly to myself, but he head me anyways.

He smiled at me. "What are you laughing about?" He said, trying to sound playful but still blushing. His hair was down and slick with remaining water. The top of his head began getting slightly wavy.

"Oh, nothing." I replied lazily. "Just watching an amatuer cook."

He raised his brows. "Says the person who devoured my steak and cheese tacos."

I shrugged, still beneath the covers. "Wont deny you that." I poked my head up a little. "What are you making?"

"My famous-to-me chicken that's lightly breaded with fresh mozzarella, and roasted onions and potatoes on the side. To accompany it, I have an illegal bottle, just for you, of The Domaine Romanée-Conti. from France."

I sat up with my eyebrows raised high. "All this just for us?"

Daniel smiled sheepishly and shrugged. "My first impression of my living quarters wasn't very good." He looked around. "They say that someone's room says a lot about themselves. When you first entered, you must've thought I was some really boring, orderly person from your mysterious past."

"Not at all." I replied, grinning.

"Very funny."

"No really," I admitted. "My father told me that people's personalities usually matched their hair."

Daniel surpressed a laugh. "How so?"

I pulled the cover aside and made my way over to where he was standing. I heasitated for the slightest moment, and then reached my hand up to Daniel's hair. I twirled the slick, green strands around my finger, gently tugging it down playfully.

"Your hair, for instance," I finally said. He stared at me deeply. I went on, "It's bright and green. The color itself indicated free will or wild. And the way you wear it." I lifted the strand of hair up to a spike. "A mowhalk, especially how yours is, symbolizes that you don't care what anyone thinks of you. You're comfertable with yourself, even if others find you weird. You believe in yourself to the fullest."

Daniel tilted his head, and I quickly dropped my hand, embarrassed. He bent his head and tried ti make me look at him.

"What about you?" He asked softly.

I glanced up. "What about me?"

Daniels hand pushed aside my black hair. I didn't even notice it anymore. It now naturally fell before my scar and hid it well.

When Daniel had pushed it aside, I felt like I had entered a new world. I looked up and found him smiling down at me.

"What does your hair say about you?" he asked. His fingers slipped between long locks of my hair. "Hmmm..." he mumbled. "I think you're terrified." He said seriously. "You're afraid of what other think of you, or what they'd said behind your back. You've had an ache in your heart ever since you woke up in that hospital bed, and now you're afraid to invite anyone in because you feel they will leave one day. And you don't think you can handle another person to leave you."

I was staring up at him. Ie towered over me, a good head taller. I've never seen anyone more focused in my life, his blue eyes were staring right into the very center of my soul. His gentle hand came up and culled my cheek. His other hand meticulously traced my scar, light as a feather.

"Eona..."