Ryder Meyers is like a porcelain doll. Lifeless, and made of glass that could shatter with a snap of a finger. Sitting on the shelf, collecting dust, and waiting for someone to pick him up, and show him admiration, to brighten up his world of black...
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"If I let go, would you hold on? Would we fly? Is it safer if we just say that we tried? Are we laughing at the danger? Are we dancing after death, you and I?" —Matt Maeson
A P R I L
The next morning, I was sitting down at the dining table eating a bowl cereal when Ryder came downstairs.
He still had his blue hoodie and dark jeans on, but with the natural light peering through the curtains, and the electrical light coming from the ceiling above, I was finally able to see the amount of blood that was splattered across his clothes.
"Oh," I spoke up awkwardly as Ryder rubbed the sleep from his eyes. I took notice of his bed head hair, and a small smile quirked up on the corner of my lips as I saw it was sticking in multiple different directions. He was definitely a rough sleeper and a boy who liked to cuddle — as I awoke with his arms wrapped around me tightly like a teddy bear. Not that I complained, as I am also a cuddly person.
"What?" He spoke after long seconds of silence, his morning voice caused my heart to leap in my chest, and I cleared my throat awkwardly.
"Uh — you have some — some blood on your clothes. . ." I pointed out awkwardly. Ryder looked down and frowned, "I-I have some clothes I can give you. . . I think." I stood up from the dining table and walked up the stairs, Ryder following after me. "My dad didn't take everything with him, and I'm still holding onto everything he left behind. . ." I trailed off quietly but cleared my throat before continuing. "My mom would probably flip out if she finds out I have a whole box of his clothes, so let's hope she doesn't find out. So. . . fingers crossed, I guess."
Ryder stayed quiet the whole time, which allowed me to compose myself enough to place a smile on my face. I didn't exactly enjoy talking about my father.
Finally, when we made it to my room, Ryder spoke up. "Were you close to your dad?" He inquired.
I swallowed and nodded, "Yeah. . . he'd always tell me I was his little turbo because I would always run around the house." I sighed nostalgically and pushed my closet door aside to grab the cardboard moving box that was placed upon the railing above my clothes.
I passed Ryder the box that held his clothes, "They should fit, you seem to be the same size as him. Some of the clothes might be small, but try them on. I'll be downstairs."
I closed my bedroom door and walked back down to continue eating my cereal. But I stopped in my tracks when someone knocked on the door.
My shoulders tensed, and I prayed to God that it wasn't the police to collect Ryder, and I just hoped it was a random stranger asking for directions, or if it was just a Girl Scout girl selling cookies.
I took in a deep breath and hoped that Ryder wouldn't come downstairs any time soon.
I unlocked the door and swung it open. Relief flooded through me when I realized who it was, but then I also rolled my eyes in annoyance when I saw who it was.
"Hey April," Heath spoke cockily.
Heath Pakinson is my next-door neighbor of ten years and my first elementary crush. We were very close back in our elementary and middle school days, but our relationship died when Heath tried to kiss me on our last day in eighth grade. I ended the friendship awkwardly, saying that I didn't see him that way, and we stopped talking altogether.
We went to the same high school, but we never spoke to each other. Heath had a small group of close friends, is the captain of the baseball team, and is basically popular. While I am a girl with no friends, top grades, and a bipolar mother that doesn't do shit.
We were two different types of people, with different types of friends, and interests. Our relationship would never work. Hence my awkward pose when I made eye contact with him.
"Hey Heath," I spoke begrudgingly. "What're you doing here?" I inquired with a frown.
Heath let a charming smile slip onto his features that didn't faze me as it did to all the other girls. "Your mom said to check on you at least twice a week to make sure you're fine. So here I am, checking on you."
A gave him a flash of a smile, "Well, that's nice of you. Buts you can see, I'm fine. So. . . bye," I tried to close the door in his face, but his foot stepped in the way. "Heath, I wanna finish my cereal, so, if you could, you know, leave." I sassed, I wasn't in the mood for his bullshit.
I forgot to add, that Heath Pakinson turned into a complete asshole as he continued throughout his high school career. Making me hate him more than I hated partner work, and I loathed partner work.
Heath frowned, "Come on, not even a small chat with my neighbor?"
"Nope, goodbye," I denied and slammed the door shut in his face before locking it up. I heard him grumble in annoyance under his breath before walking away.
I let out a sigh and ran a hand through my hair.
"Who was that?"
I felt my heart leap out of my chest when I heard Ryder's voice come from directly behind me. I turned around and came face to chest, I looked up to see a Ryder peeking out of the eye hole on the top of the door that I was too short to reach.
"That was just my neighbor checking on me," I said truthfully.
"Hm, didn't sound like he was just checking on you." He stated before walking towards the kitchen. I then realized he changed into a pair of my father's sweats and a maroon shirt.
I let out a breathless chuckle, "Yeah, Heath has always been like that."
"You mean Heath Pakinson?" Ryder called from the kitchen.
I raised my brows and followed him into the kitchen, I found him grabbing the cereal and a bowl — how he found the bowls, I don't know — and pouring himself some cereal.
"You know Heath Pakinson?"
He shrugged nonchalantly, "Yeah, I know him from school, and he's done some deals with my dad."
I nodded and gulped, I still had to get used to his history, and get used to the fact that he deals drugs for his dad.
It would definitely take me some time to get used to it, but I would sooner or later.
• • •
{edited}
Longer chapter than I intended, and I feel like the way I introduced Heath was in a very cliche and bullshitty way, but Heath'll become more important as we continue on ;)
"So tell me, can you turn around? I need someone to tear me down Oh, tell me, can you turn around?" —Lewis Capaldi
