The Half of It

Chapter Eight

Lance couldn't sleep, he simply couldn't. He remained in a mid-state between unconsciousness and the secondhand wariness. He wasn't sure if he had slept at all, or was just stuck in a state of mist where all that was functioning was his mind without the behalf of his body, and he kept on tossing and turning in his sheets.

The intrusive thoughts kept popping up in his mind, and the times he had no control over his situation forced him into feeling anxious. How was he supposed to deal with reality if he didn't have any temporary rest from it? It wasn't said that the sleep was the cousin of death for nothing.

He flipped the pillow around and let his head sorrowfully sink into the colder side. Lance had lost the count of how many times did he perform the pillow-shift that night, knowing well that it would work for solid two minutes until it would lose the effect.

Keith, on the other hand, discovered that Lance's room had a balcony. Lance just watched him step outside without saying anything, perhaps understanding that he and the demon were both in the same bag and that they both needed some time apart to process the consequences of recent events. 

That was the farthest the chain allowed them to be without each other, and Keith discovered the magnetizing beauty of a yellow color which sweetly compelled his eyes to search for it again and again. Instead of coaxing Keith into explaining the complicated matter further, Lance decided to let it all go. He was tired, and he didn't want to think any more than he had to. 

Besides, if he was to live with the guy like Keith, he had to preserve energy for never-ending debates with the demon. He knew his type. He knew guys like Keith; smart mouths who had an immediate and often complicated answer to everything, who thrived on shutting up their interlocutors by saying something witty in return, who thrived on being conversationally superior, and Lance could see it radiating off the boy.

It's not as if Lance thought that he wasn't smart enough to be a part of the dispute that involved the demon on the opposite seat, nothing of that sort, Lance just wasn't up for it.

Although they spent so little time together, they were both grievously aware of the fact that their personalities were meant to clash every time they were near each other. It was an odd energy-related law which proposed that their energies had to reverberate by nature and never find the 'common tongue', always and always traveling into the opposite direction. 

Lance had maybe felt a tinge of regret for not paying enough of attention during his physics classes, but it was too late for that and he was far too behind with his knowledge to soak into remorse of something that he couldn't affect at the moment.

Maybe one of those invisible physical forces he couldn't name urged Lance out of his bed and up on his feet, and he found himself standing behind Keith's back, only clad in briefs. The cold late-hour breeze was clawing at his face and his bare skin that stood completely exposed to the night's mercy, as he was observing the Keith's peaceful and still frame sitting cross-legged on the tiles. His murky hair locks adopted the softer shine under the moonlight, as the wind cautiously boated through his thick streaks. His hair color appeared more indigo than coal, and Lance found himself slightly fascinated with the transitive nuance in front of his eyes.

After a couple of moments of gaping at the demon who sat close-eyed and rigid, Lance cleared his throat.

''I know you're there, Lance.'' Keith said blatantly.