A homeless thief breaks into a house that has nothing worth stealing - except for the heart of a lonely man who is obsessed with time.
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Blake has been living on the streets for...
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-Blake-
I stayed by Jordan's door for hours. I stood still for a long, long time, holding my hand on the other side of the hatch. Sometimes, I could feel Jordan's cool fingers on my skin. His touch was almost like a whisper, and it never lasted for long, before he pulled his hand away.
At first, I didn't understand why Jordan wanted to do that. He kept poking me like my hand was something highly interesting. Then I realized that I was most likely the first person Jordan had touched in years. I couldn't even imagine the loneliness he must have felt during that time. I would have gone insane without other people around me.
So, I just stood there, ignoring the tingling numbness of my hand and my tired feet. I would've stayed there for days without moving, just to make Jordan happy. He talked about his art, his paintings, and figurines, and even though I knew nothing about art, I listened. Jordan seemed relaxed and happy when talking about his paintings, so I wasn't in a hurry to change the subject.
I had all the time in the world to listen to him. I couldn't believe I was able to be so close to him, without having to hide from the view or be afraid I was going to get caught. Now it was my job to be close to him and give him all the support I could.
Sadly, at some point, I had to interrupt Jordan and pull my hand away. "I'm sorry, I just can't feel my fingers anymore," I muttered my explanation.
"Don't apologize, you didn't need to do that for me," Jordan spoke, and I could hear him taking a few steps back from the door.
"It's all right. I'm here to help you," I said, rubbing my numb fingers.
Jordan didn't answer me. I wanted to look through the hatch and make sure he was all right, but I was sure it would only make things worse.
"I'll give it back to you once I get the blood running again," I promised, but Jordan still wasn't answering. "Jordan?"
I started to feel worried when he didn't answer, but before I could decide what to do, the handle turned slowly, and the door itself opened a little. I stared at the small crack with wide eyes, and I could hear Jordan walking away from it.
"Jordan?"
"You can open it. Just... don't come in... please?" Jordan spoke.
"I promise," I said and slowly pushed the door open.
Jordan was sitting on the couch on the other side of the living room. He was staring at the ground, wringing his hands together nervously. I couldn't help but smile when I saw him. I hated to see him so timid, but at the same time, I was happy to actually see him.
"You are so beautiful," I sighed before I could stop myself.
"I'm just a guy," Jordan muttered. "With a screwed-up head."
