Conversations

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con·ver·sa·tion : /ˌkänvərˈsāSHən/

1.   the informal exchange of ideas by spoken words.

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Erik didn't take a seat by the corner or the wall- or even the seat furthest away from Ziven. No, he sat closest to Ziven. He sat at the bar.

"Hi, Ziven," Erik smiled at him.

"Don't you have college?"

"I'm skipping."

Ziven paused, setting down the drink he had been brewing. "Go to college."

"I wanted to see you."

"Erik."

"No one talks to me."

"Erik..."

"My parents are dead."

"Erik, don't do this here."

"It was a car crash.”

“Erik, please,” Ziven sighed wearily. He raked his hair back with a hand, exhaustion etched into his face.

“I love you,” he suddenly blurted out in a moment of desperation.

Ziven sighed once more and returned to brewing a drink. “No, you don’t,” he shook his head, “Please don’t say such unnecessary things.”

"You're the first," Erik said.

Ziven glanced at Erik. He didn't want to know what he meant but he also knew that if he didn't ask, Erik would only bother him more. So, he decided to entertain the male, "What do you mean?"

"I have a fear of touching people. You're the first I touched without freaking," he explained, "That's why I asked to hug you."

And that was it. "If you're not here to buy drinks, please leave."

"No- wait, Ziven," Erik reached out over the counter and grabbed Ziven's sleeve. "I.. Can I get a coffee?"

The café owner wanted to sigh again. He didn't want Erik here. He felt as if every day he saw Erik, he was dragged into his messed up world little by little.

"Is that it?"

Erik nodded, his eyes round and wide.

“Okay.”

Ziven was quick to make Erik's cup of coffee. He wanted him out of here as soon as possible. When he handed Erik his coffee, the college teen looked like he wanted to say something. His large eyes looked up at Ziven, seeming to portray a hidden message as his mouth opened and closed. But, Erik merely closed his mouth and tightened jaw, silently thanking Ziven for the cup. 

In the small coffee shop, the customers stared, wondering what Erik could possibly be doing here. They were wary of the stranger and tried to warn Ziven whenever he passed by. 

But why? Ziven would ask curiously.

This time, he was met with mixed answers. 

I heard he killed someone, one person had whispered.

No, I heard he came from an insane asylum, another had stated, confident his answer was sure to be correct. 

No, you're all wrong. One of my cousins had a friend who was a friend of another friend who dated that guy. Apparently he's got serious issues with people, one lady had gossiped. 

In the end, Ziven grew tired of the mixed rumours that flitted around Erik. The truth could only come from Erik himself. 

"I can hear them," Erik murmured quietly to Ziven. 

Ziven remained quiet and continued brewing drinks for his customers.

"They're saying I'm crazy, aren't they?"

The male knew what was coming. He tried to stop the other, "Erik, don't."

But the college teen merely brushed off Ziven's words and continued, "I'm not crazy."

"They don't get me. But you get me, right?"

No, I don't.

Erik's voice began to grow desperate, pleading even. His hands steadily tightened around his cup. "The accident was my fault, y'know? I told them. I-I told them I needed my book. I don't know. I don't even remember what it was called. I was selfish and demanding. And they listened to me!

"Erik," Ziven hissed and rapidly walked around the counter, grabbing Erik's wrist. "Don't do this here."

He pulled on Erik's arm and forcefully dragged him into the back room, ignoring the stares that bore holes into his back. Pushing Erik down onto the couch that occupied the small space, Ziven crossed his arms and glared down at him.

"All right. You got my attention. Talk. That's what you wanted, right? Talk and I'll listen."

Erik whimpered. "I don't want to," he whispered hoarsely. 

"Damn it, Erik!" Ziven suddenly shouted. "What the hell do you want from me?!"

"I don't know! Please stop yelling!" Erik covered his ears and cowered, his body visibly shaking. 

"I'm not-" Ziven sighed and lowered his voice, "I'm not yelling, okay?" 

"You were," Erik slowly put down his hands onto his lap and looked up at Ziven with pitiful eyes. 

"Look, I have to get back to work. You can stay- or leave, I don't care. Just don't bother me."

"...Okay."

When Ziven returned after the coffee shop had closed, Erik had already disappeared. 

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