Lil' Kitty

It Ain't About How Hard You Hit

 4. ~It ain't about how hard you hit~

Skye was woken by a loud sound of falling walnuts. It was the end of summer, and the delicious kernels were still safely hidden in their golden shells, ripe and ready to be picked up by the Birch Street residents. Fall coloured orbs hit the roof and pavements, sounding like resounding, heavy melody of hail. She stretched her legs and sensed the already cold mattress on Lucas's side, which wasn't unusual, since he started working at 6AM.

The kitchen was a mess. Again.

Like many times before, Lucas was not able to sleep, so he baked. This time it was – chocolate chip cookies. Sweet scent filled the room as the lovely treat was basking in all its glory, reflecting the heavy light of the morning sun. Dorian was still sound asleep, tucked in that red blanket she gave him last night.

Skye soaked all the dirty bowls, sticky spoons and knifes she found, and placed all the 'ingredients' back in their rightful place. After that she decided to work on her video, by doing the job that was the easiest and the hardest at the same time – editing. It is true that working with camera gave Skye great joy, but sometimes it could also bore her to death. For some reason she just couldn't keep it together, either because of the early hour, or the 'last night activity' she had...or maybe it was even interest in the stranger with Lucas's eyes, sleeping on a couch like a homeless person.

She slapped her cheeks and poured hot water over  a packet of green tea. Soon she heard a familiar noise of waking up – yawning. Dorian hardly looked like an adult with his dark hair all over the place, and the youthful expression of a confused schoolboy. The sharp features that were arcs of his cheekbones, were just another thing that reminded her of the face the one she loved. Although, there was something very different about them, something in their eyes.

The essence. Lucas carried a note of curiosity in each stare he gave, while Dorian showed nothing. A blank expression, if you will.

»Mornin'.« Skye greeted the handsome stranger.

»You're up early.« He mumbled and scratched his nose. The scent of freshly made tea invited him towards the kitchen table.

»Can't sleep with the noise.« She replied while pouring another cup of green, bittersweet tea.

»Noise?« Dorian inquired.

»Walnuts are falling off the trees, ruckus is almost unbearable.«

»Oh.« His lips carefully touched the hot cup to take a very small sip of that lava-like liquid. »What's that?« Dorian pointed at her laptop and a bunch of notes scribbled on paper napkins.

»It's for work. Well, my art actually – I make videos. YouTube videos.« Skye shyly confessed.

»And, does it pay well?«

»Not at first, but the more you work on it, the more you get. You just got to stick with it and not give up, you got to keep fighting.«

»It ain't about how hard you hit, it's about how hard you can get hit and keep moving forward.«

She noticed that much like his younger brother, Dorian too enjoys quoting things that capture his heart. »Who said that?«

»Rocky Balboa.« His lips curved into a smile, almost a grin.

Rocky, The Fight Club...Dashwood brothers taste in movies told a lot about them. Who they were, who they are. Skye sneaked a peek at the coffee table in the living room. It was covered in paper with a writing that looked more like childish doodles, somewhere marked with a red pen.