Chapter 11 - Things Friends Do

480 17 5
                                    

Two showers in one day. I'll admit, I needed this one. I was filthy after the trek home and had probably contaminated everything I touched although L hadn't seemed to mind the dirt when I had hugged him. In fact, he hadn't seemed to mind anything about it at all. I dried myself with a fluffy towel, distracted. I had to admit that I liked the new L. He was helpful, caring and dare I say it, funny. What I didn't like was that Andrew had been right.

I had a sneaking suspicion that L had started to like me. What I still didn't know was why. He wasn't superficial, I knew that much, and I still looked the same as I had six months ago, even my hair still fell to the exact center of my back, as I kept it regularly trimmed. It couldn't be anything physical that had turned the tables, and I was glad of that. Despite of how I felt about it, it was nice to know he wasn't falling all over me because I was "lovely" like Andrew had. Hell, L had even brought up a not so flattering image of a two year old me with snot leaking out of my nose, that memory itself showed that this new revelation wasn't about looks. What was it?

I wrapped myself in my dressing gown, letting my newly washed hair fall loose. I peered at myself in the foggy mirror, my eyebrows furrowed as I thought deeply. I was still the crying toddler, the precocious child, the emotional teenager, and the together woman I'd always been. Nothing of my behavior had changed. I just couldn't see it. We had always been enemies, when would that have ever changed to attraction? What had happened while he was gone to make him come home with such a resolution to get to know me better? Did he not have much time left?

Sadness overwhelmed me as I considered that. I knew now that I would grieve the loss of L like I had for Winston. He had broken the barrier between us, and I couldn't help but care about him like any of the others. However he seemed too pleasant to be at death's door, worrying about that would be pointless and a bit late. He had been the L for longer than today, I should have always cared whether he was going to come back. I felt horrible that I hadn't. I frowned at myself in the mirror trying to overcome the regret. At least I had a chance to make things right now. L wanted to be friends, and his friend I swore to be. Even if it killed me.

As I walked into my bedroom, I had to smirk at the present left on my pillow. Anne had finished her sketch of L in action and had scribbled over the right corner. "Here's hoping you come to your senses. For those sleepless nights." I sat on the edge of the mattress, picking up the drawing and felt a little faint.  Anne was in Wammy's for a reason. She had captured everything about that moment, from the bulging muscles along his neck, exposed by the collar of his shirt slipping to one side as he prepared to swing his tennis racquet, to the fiery determination in his eyes as he devoted every ounce of himself to profoundly wiping the court with Andrew Hargrove. My cheeks were going to never return to their original color at this rate. L was actually attractive, in a different way than most, but still, it was striking. And quite unsettling.

"Enough," I muttered, opening the drawer to my nightstand and thrusting the picture inside, face down. "How he looks is irrelevant. It's the words he speaks that are important. No, scratch that. His words are what usually get him in trouble." I didn't know where this talk was leading and so ended it. Unfortunately, babbling was a sure sign the madness was on its way.

I dressed quickly, pinning my hair to the side with my carved wooden barrette. Besides my silver necklace, it was the only object from my former life that I had and I treasured it dearly. The one time I had lost it had caused me to openly grieve for days, feeling the last remnants of my mother slipping away from me. I knew that I was blessed to have even those in a home for orphans, but I still felt heart wrenching loss at being so careless. Two days after its disappearance, a hesitant knock had fallen on my door followed by an envelope being shoved under it with the barrette tucked inside. The note enclosed had explained that the hairpiece had been found in one of the ground floor classrooms underneath the radiator but left no clue to who had found it. I had hugged the envelope to my chest and cried with happiness.

HomeWhere stories live. Discover now