Flicker

Night Changes

Andy

The moment I get back to my room, I throw myself onto my bed.

Did Mikey just ask me to a play?

Yeah, he did. How kind of him is that?

But then a small voice in the back of my head reminds me of what seems to be happening.

What if he's just trying to gain your trust so he can earn himself some extra cash?

I argue back with my own mind: but he doesn't seem the type do that.

At least I hope he's not.

But I settle on that previous thought anyway, knowing Mikey well enough that he'd respect my wishes if I specifically asked.

I know he wouldn't breach someone's privacy like that. And plus he had kind of demonstrated that back in the little café a while ago, where he had listened to me. It made a nice change.

Even when he had asked me that question, I knew there had been no malice behind it. He wasn't prying, he had just been genuinely curious, and the mellow, gentle look in his eyes had told me this.

So I had answered, not in great depth mind you, but I had answered. And Mikey accepted that answer without further questioning.

I felt my respect for him grow in that moment in the café. He'd had the balls to ask, and then he'd had the decency to accept my answer.

The corner of my mouth quirks up in a smile.

I excitedly slip off my bed and peer underneath at the clothes that I've always saved for special occasions. They would have been useful at the restaurant when we went, but we'd gone straight from work to there, so I hadn't had a chance. They didn't even cross my mind until now. I guess I just hadn't had any need for them.

I bring out the plastic bag, pulling out the shirt and jeans. At the moment, I'm so excited that I don't even give it a thought that I bought them second hand.

I strip as fast as I can, pulling the shirt over my head, then the jeans up to my hips. The shirt's a little big and the jeans a little too small, but that's alright. I check myself out in the small mirror in the bathroom.

My eyes are too tired-looking, and the dark bags underneath don't help my case. I've got a few little spots that I wish I could sort out, but maybe I'll just have to deal with it. My hair is a mess, dirty and all over the place. I think I can sort that out. The stubble growing on my chin though...

Otherwise, I think I look okay; maybe better once I've cleaned myself up a bit.

I decide to wash my hair, using the last bit of my small shampoo bottle and doing it quickly (but thoroughly) in the sink.

I also try to make myself go to sleep early, having changed back into my regular clothes, but I end up lying there with no chance of falling asleep. Why is this making me so excited?

***

When I wake up the next morning, I marvel slightly over the fact that I was able to get to sleep eventually. I go to the bathroom and check myself out in the mirror, just as excited as I was yesterday.

I allow myself to specifically pick out the nice things about myself, and boy does it make a difference.

Damn, Fowler.

My eyes are surprisingly bright for this time of morning, my hair is still messy but at least it's nice and clean. I run my hands through it a few times before smiling and hugging myself, trying not to be so excited.