Child of Fire

Blur

Inaudible hip-hop music was the first thing Zee noticed. Next, it was the pounding in his head as he laid on his back. He felt incredibly thirsty and his muscles were achy like he spent too much time in the gym. But he doesn't remember working out last night. He lifted his eyelids and immediately regretted it as the light shot arrows into his eyeballs. The brief glimpse was enough to tell him that he's not in his room because he doesn't have a huge ass sword hanging on his wall. The unfamiliar surroundings should alarm him but the smell of the pillow was comforting. Despite the headache and fatigue, he was feeling quite cozy in his soft shirt and pajamas.

Zee rubbed his eyes and opened them again, slowly this time. Aside from the deadly looking silver sword, there were two wooden sticks forming an X mounted beside it. On top of them was a long black double-bladed spear. On the dresser directly below the weapons were a number of photo frames. Saint was in a few of them so Zee instantly felt relieved. There was also a familiar-looking guitar beside the dresser.

Wait.

What the fuck am I doing in Saint's room?  

Shit.

The bedroom door opened and the hip-hop music grew louder. Saint was in the doorway still holding on to the knob. 

"Oh, you're awake!" Saint said, walking inside and plopping himself beside Zee. Saint's sudden weight on the mattress jostled Zee, which was like a sledge hammer striking his brain. "Rise and shine, P'Zee!" Saint's enthusiastic greeting almost drowned out Zee's groan of pain.

"P'Zee... P'Zee... wakey-wakey!"

"Saint... go away...." Zee tried to hide behind the covers but Saint just flung them off him.

"Come on, P'Zee," Saint grabbed Zee's arms and tugged.

"Nooooo....." Zee decided that Saint was a horrible, terrible, unmerciful person.

"You've been sleeping for far too long. It's time to eat!" Saint insisted when he finally had Zee in a sitting position.

Zee tried to lie back down but Saint wrapped his arms around him, effectively stopping him and hugging him at the same time. "I hate you," Zee mumbled against Saint's shoulder.

"I hate you too," was Saint's quick response.

Although he knew it was just a joke, Zee's heart broke a little. What if Saint really hated him?

"Come on, P'Zee, I have water, medicine and food waiting for you," Saint struggled to stand while holding Zee until the older man finally rose on his own.

At the dining table, Zee swallowed the pain reliever, drank a glass of water and stared at the greasy cheeseburger and cold french fries that Saint had ordered through a food delivery app. "What time is it?" 

"3 p.m."

Zee winced. His mother is probably worried.

"How did I get here?"

"You don't remember?" Saint asked as he chewed noisily, his mouth had a combination of grease, cheese, ketchup and mustard around it.

"No," Zee was tired, he wanted nothing more but to go back to that soft, sweet-smelling bed.

"Eat and I'll tell you," Saint nudged the plate of uneaten burger and fries closer to Zee. When Zee made no move to eat, Saint took a thick french fry, dragged it across a mound of ketchup and forced Zee to eat it. While Zee was reluctantly chewing the potato, Saint wiped his right hand and picked up his phone. Judging by the look on Saint's face, Zee had a feeling he wasn't going to like what Saint will show him.