A rose to grind

-17-

Etienne's arm that slung around my shoulder had tightened considerably. His nails dug into my scruff like a tenacious hawk grappling onto its prey, and in this quagmire, I was supposedly the prey. The weakened hawk was leaning onto me, with all its previous unhinged momentum gone, and all that was left was a lonely, redundant bird. But I wasn't all for metaphorical mentions, so let us just skip the part.

I encircled my arm around his waist, and was practically hurling him around like a rag-doll. It seemed that the remnant fragments of the remaining soul in him was sucked out, like a vacuum cleaner towards dust. Even for a split second, there was only sympathy left for him, and I had hoped he would pity himself as much as I did. Towards such a clueless boy, if there wasn't an adult such as I, who could differentiate right and wrong, who else but me could sympathize with his pitiful self? However, sympathy felt abhorrent to me.

I swallowed back a sigh. The two of us trudged towards the double door, and I supported Etienne's weight on me with no difficulty. The only problem that was present was his heavy breathing on my neck, and it was most uncomfortable and left goosebumps on that very body part.

There was a clang, a thud, a thump, and as I peeked over my shoulder to supervise, and improvise where such noise seemed to have emerged, there was a figure, who had instead, rose to his feet.

Louise was avoiding my narrowed eyes like a guilty criminal on a death row. There was a flustered expression smothering his face. He was looking at anywhere but me. What seemed more outlandish were the two large hands that were obscuring the center of his parts. Knowingly, I raised my eyebrow. Hormones were nothing to be embarrassed about, and I was not discomposed or thrown off. For men, it was normal, even more frequent for teenage boys. However, it wouldn't be me that had to expand his horizon.

Louise garbled as if slightly hysterically sound. I only shook my head in return, with a tiny curvature of my mouth and spoke. "You don't have to explain."

At my words, his face grew even redder, with a hint of shame creeping onto his face. I didn't care. I just turned back with a motionless Etienne, hopefully not dead, in my embrace and opened the door with a face bereft of any emotion, as if nothing had happened. Jacklin, with his bipolar temper, seemed to have been in the car, so imperiously, I entered the car, gently placing Etienne on the leather seat.

When his head rolled back from the flurry of movements, I saw that his eyes, that were of a pretty shade of expensive gold, now darkened to the crescendo, stared at me unblinkingly. The shape of his mouth moved, as if he wanted to say something, but he decided it was best to not.

I turned away, seeing Jacklin occupying the left seat. The gears in my head turned; just recently, the boy stormed out for whatever reason I didn't know, or care about. If I were to say something to him, wouldn't it ultimately bring me a predicament? I sewed my lips shut and was about to plant myself down in the center when a hand caught my wrist, riveting me to the spot. I turned my head back fretfully but was met with a profound gaze.

"...can you sit beside me? Just this once?" Etienne's voice was soft, even fragile. I didn't know whether this was a farce or not. But I wasn't willing to hold out a bone to him, then snatch it away. It was needless of me to give someone hope already when I had crushed it to smitheries.

"Sorry, young master, but I'll have to refuse," I said, smiling professionally.

Grief flashed through Etienne's eyes. He hung his head low and replied quietly. "I see."

I nodded my head, then returned to my seat. Louise came in last, coughing uncontrollably like he was a victim of a virus. He gave a crude smile, explaining himself. "I apologize for my tardiness, I had to take care of some personal business—guys?"