forum A Thousand Cranes // Rated PG-15 // Eris

Started November 30, 2018 by Deleted user

tune

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I don’t have anymore nightmares the rest of the night. When I open my eyes again to the morning light streaming through my windows, I’m still tired, but not the debilitating kind of tired that I have been for the past few days. I actually feel somewhat energized. I smile, allowing myself to relax back into the plush of my bed, listening to the twins get ready for school down the hall.

Seems like another day I get to skip. I wonder if Emmy is waiting for me to say something? I would like to go—mostly to get it over with at this point, but still… I like school. It would feel good to start going again.

Another day of acclimation. Stewing in my own thoughts and not being able to help with anything around the house. I purse my lips in a frown. I really do not enjoy feeling like I have too much time to do nothing but think. Now it seems that is all I have. All the time in the world to think myself into a ball of anxiety. All the time in the world to remember how I’ve messed up royally, since I stepped through the front door of this house. All the time in the world to remember Emmy’s warm arms around me.

I try not to linger on that memory. I think the chances of that happening again are slim and I would never dare to ask for it. But oh, it felt so good to be held like that. How I've longed for arms around me that were reassuring, not restraining. I gave in, pushed away my fear and took the risk. It's the best gift I could ever receive.

I jump as Emmy announces her presence with a knock on the door and comes in when I clap my hands. Gah. I won't ever get used to the respect of my personal bubble. Or the fact that I even have personal space too respect.

I feel very awkward seeing Emmy the first time after ‘the hugging incident’, but she doesn't seem to notice it, nor does she seem to be uncomfortable around me. She doesn't bring it up, and I am grateful for that. It means she also won't laugh at me for wanting to be held, to be hugged. She seems—happier—actually. More comfortable as she steps into the room. I sit up, moving to sit cross legged under my blankets. I’m not so nervous as she approaches, but I can still feel my embarrassed blush on my cheeks.

"You were sleeping earlier when everyone else was waking up." She smiles as she steps up next to my bed. She's carrying a steaming mug — presumably some broth. I've been living on that over the last days along with pieces of French bread. I flat out refuse the fluid food. It comes out quicker than I get it in. I won't eat it anymore. Besides, who can turn down warm bread and soup?

"I brought you something to drink. How are you?"

I nod carefully — I'm better now. I still feel awkward and shy under her gaze. Have done since she put her arms around me. It's hard to admit how wonderful it felt.

It's harder to admit I want it again.

"You look a bit better. Hey, what do you think of maybe a shower and changing into clean things? I can clean the sheets on your bed in the meantime?" Emmy sits on the edge of my bed as she hands me the mug. I take a careful sip, closing my eyes as the incredible warmth and taste spill into my empty stomach. I set the mug carefully on my night stand, pulling Emmy’s attention away from chores and to my hands.

That is a good idea. But what about school? I don’t want to fall behind too much.

It’s vaguely surprising to me how much ASL I remember, I haven’t been able to properly use it in years, but now it all comes flooding back to me as I accept that it’s a better way to communicate my needs than nods, shakes and finger motions.

Emmy considers, chewing her bottom lip. "It’s funny that you say that, I was thinking about it this morning as well. If you think you are ready, we can get you in whenever you want." She hesitates, looking concerned. I can guess where her thought process is going. She’s worried about all those kids being in my personal bubble. “I was thinking maybe we’d finish out the week, just to make sure you are as acclimated and healed as much as you can be here, before we push you into a new environment.”

Well, that’s considerate, but unnecessary. I can do school, no biggie.

I’m sure.

Right? Right.

Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiight.

I huff to myself. No, I definitely can do this.

I would like to give it a shot.

My words are hesitant, as I do realize where she is coming from. I know that I can be—difficult—to say the least. Emmy only wants me to be comfortable, but she’s got to understand that I need this too.

She is looking at me, searching for something on my face. When she finds what she’s looking for she speaks again. “Okay, okay. But let me chat with your principal first, okay?” She adds as an afterthought. I nod, conceding. She probably has to explain everything about me to them, maybe even share my file. That’s going to take time and understanding. I sigh quietly, wringing my hands. Just more and more people that have to know about me. Emmy smiles at me reassuringly, gestures to my mug of broth with a gentle “Drink.” and then she is out of the room.

I finish my mug of broth in no time. Humming at the full feeling in my stomach. I’ll have to ask Emmy for the recipe. I could drink that broth for the rest of my life.

Freshly showered, freshly clad in clean sweats and t-shirt. I crawl in between fresh sheets, feeling better instantly although, I have put my shawl back on, as I feel better with my neck covered. The bruises have healed enough where they are only truly visible to those who know where to look, but I’ve gotten so used to the extra coverage that I feel woefully exposed without it.

I could read, but my eyes are still a little strained from exhaustion. Although the library does call my name. I should answer Jackie's emails, but I don’t really know what to say to her just yet. She’ll want to hear about my progress and I really don’t think that I have accomplished anything since I’ve entered the James’ home. I am still not very well. I just have a hard time realizing it. I have been used to suppressing my discomfort for so long, I don't know how to recognize it anymore.

The phone they gave me beeps on the nightstand. My heart skips a beat at the sound and tentatively, I reach out to pick it up. A text message. From whom? I press the button to read it.

How are you?

XO Iona

I look at the screen for a long time, completely lost. Should I reply to this? But what do I say? Finally, I type something.

I'm okay.

I press send.

And then on whim, I send another:

: )

Because happy faces are nice. I don't really know why my heart is hammering in my chest right now. I keep holding the phone, not really sure what to do. Minutes tick by and I start to wonder what I am waiting for, exactly.

The phone beeps and vibrates again, tearing me my reverie with a jolt.

Glad to hear you're better. Now that I know you text, it’ll be easier to chat!

Declan

What.

I save both numbers into the phone. I have a whooping four contacts now. Somehow this makes my chest feel funny, but in a good way. I don't know how to answer the message from Declan so I just send another happy face. Hopefully, he gets it that even though I can text, ‘chatting’ is still rather difficult.

I just keep looking at it long after the backlight of the screen dies down, I can see my own smile reflected back at me.

Would you look at that.

A smile.

I have a hard time to give in to it and let my body rest and heal, but I cannot deny how blissful it feels to be alone and unbothered for such long periods of time. Nothing has happened to indicate it will become the same here as it was before, with Peter, with William. The relief is staggering, just as powerful as it was last night. I shudder when I think of them. I don't know what I did to deserve them being out of my life, but if I were to believe in a God, I'd thank him on my bare knees in a pile of glass for it.

Even this first week here, however riddled with bad luck and horrible fuck ups, has felt like a vacation to me. Not your typical sun-vacation, as the sun hasn't really shone in all the days I've been around here now, but a vacation nevertheless.

Although I can’t sleep anymore, I still rest. Flicking the tv on for some background noise, I sit in my window seat holding a notebook in my hand. I have the urge to continue my childish obsession, just because I feel good right now, but there is a little part of me that still hesitates because I do not want my little arts to be stolen from me again. My fingers play with the edges of the soft paper.

Just as I’m about to put the notebook away, a small bird zooms by the window, chirping as loud as can be. That decides it for me. Within moments, I have several sheets measured out. With a final huff and a peek over my shoulder to make sure no one is watching, I fold one into a crane.

And then another.

And one more for good luck.

Maybe one more.

By the time I’m done, I have six paper cranes of different sizes perched on my desk. I can’t help the little quirk of a smile that appears on my face. I lean back, gazing along the ceiling of my room, wondering what it would look like to have the cranes dangling from the ceiling. I enjoy the mental image immensely, remembering how Iona had a pretty swirling tapestry hanging from her ceiling. Maybe Emmy would let me if I asked. I could make them out of colored paper too, instead of lined…

I shake my head, feeling silly. I search my desk for a pen writing the corresponding numbers on the body of each crane: 656, 657, 658, 659, 660, 661. Six hundred sixty-one. I stare at it for a moment. My wish still hasn’t changed from when I was a child, no matter how cynical or bleak the world turned out to be around me, I still had this one thing, this one wish. Even though my heart knew I didn’t want to know the answer.

Five of the six cranes get swept into a desk drawer. The biggest one sitting proudly on top of the unused laptop. A reminder. But I’m not sure what for yet. A reminder that I’m childish? A reminder that dreams and wishes are as flimsy as paper? A reminder that maybe, maybe I can make a better life for myself? I don’t know.

Best not to think about it now. I turn and leave the room.

It feels wonderful to get my legs moving again, although my muscles protest fiercely when I walk down the stairs. My stomach growls — maybe I am getting better. The wonderful news is I get to eat some bread and more broth.
I'm almost giddy. Food, what a godsend. Who knew?

Emmy is not in around when I reach the kitchen and softly rummaging about I find something to eat and to drink. Yes. Bliss.

The house is quiet, but I am fairly certain I am not alone. Emmy would have let me know if she was going to go out. I hear the soft tones of her talking in her office and figure she’s on a call.

Outside, it's not raining for a change, but the wind is blowing, and I can hear it rushing faintly in the trees. It reminds me of the ocean back in LA. Funny to think that would be nostalgic to me. I never thought I’d miss the sand and waves. Or sunlight for that matter. I want to go out, to get some fresh air. Maybe I can find the coat Emmy has lent me before. Walking into the hallway, I find the closet that holds the coats and find the Burberry in it. Taking my chances, I put on the coat while crossing the house and I slip out the door to the porch.

The fresh air is liberating. I walk to the railing and stand with my face in the wind. It feels soothingly cool on my skin. Looking up at the clouds, the wind picks up my hair and whips it around my face. It feels light, and for the first time in a very long time, I feel light, too. There is no sunshine through the cloud cover, but it’s okay. Somehow, I image that I can still feel it on my skin, warm little pinpricks all over my face.

I close my eyes and let a small smile tug at the corners of my mouth.

"There you are!"

I turn around quickly, my mouth opened in a silent gasp. Emmy is standing in the door, she is smiling but the look of worry is apparent on her face.

"You weren't in your room, safe to say I got a little worried." She chuckles as she comes to stand next to me. My eyes go wider still and convey what I hope a silent apology. Oops. Will she be angry?

The look on her face changes, softens. "You scared me, is all. I was afraid something was wrong. Feel better? Less tired?"

I nod, in understanding. I’ve been such a recluse that not finding me in the cave that is my room must have been quite the shock. Next time I’ll text her that I went outside. I can't prevent the tiny smile that accompanies my affirmation. I'm better now.

"I'm happy that you are starting to move around on your own. Don't stay out for too long, okay? It’s cold season, and I’d rather that we keep you healthy. Shall I keep you company?" She looks happy to be outside as well, and I honestly wouldn’t mind having her warmth beside me, but I have been enjoying my own silence, my own company for once, I think I would like to keep that way for a bit longer.

I shake my head. No, thank you.

Reading my face correctly, she smiles again. "I'm glad you feel better." And with that, she goes back inside. When she is out of sight, I turn to look back over the driveway again and let my thoughts drift with the wind.

I'm not sure how long I have been standing there when I see a car coming down the lane. As soon as I recognize Emmy’s Tesla – with Declan behind the wheel — I make my way inside.

Fully intending to slip past Emmy and hide out in my room, she steps out of the kitchen at that precise moment, holding a dishtowel and a wet plate. "Won't you keep us company for a bit?" She asks softly, carefully.

Does she really want me to? I don’t want to put a damper on everyone’s evening, but I think—I think I would like to join them.

Behind me, I hear the bustle of a car entering the garage.

"Please?" Emmy asks, and it's a loaded word. She's asking me for more than staying downstairs for now. It's the same type of 'please' that was used when she hugged me.

Oh, that hug…

"I know it's hard for you," She whispers as multiple sets of footsteps approach the door. "Will you please try?"
There something in the way she says it, as if she is afraid to ask this of me. This woman confounds me. Doesn’t she know I would do anything for her now? Honestly. I am still busy being confounded when the door opens and Declan, Iona and Josh enter the room.

"Oh, you're up!" Iona exclaims and suddenly she’s right before me, those long legs of her covering the distance in no time. She claps her hands and looks down at me with a sparkle in her eye. "I am so happy to see you better! You had us worried, you know."

Worried? Us? Hmmm.

From the corner of my eye, I can see Declan looking at me. To his right, Josh stands, and he's looking at Declan.

Iona, in the meantime, has continued talking. "… now we can finally start to get to know you!"

I look back at her as her words register. The age-old knowledge makes itself known again. I'm not worth knowing. Lowering my eyes, I fidget a little before I shove my hands into the pocket of my sweater. I don't know what to do.

"Declan, I haven't heard you play lately?" Emmy asks out of the blue. Innocently, changing the subject as she dries the already dry plate in her hand.

"Yeah, well, haven't had a mind to," He replies, shrugging and looking away.

"Well, play something now? I'm sure Cassia would like to hear you play." This time I look at her searchingly. Does she know about my violin? I don’t know why I get the impression that she does.

Now Declan looks up at his aunt and I can see he's uncomfortable. When his gaze shifts to me, I shake my head in a way I hope conveys that he shouldn't feel uncomfortable on my behalf. He doesn't have to play if he doesn't want to, especially not for me.

I'd like to hear him play, though. A baby grand… I wonder how that will sound in this house. I'm know the acoustics are fabulous from my little self-concert the other day. If he’s as good as Iona said, maybe we could play together some day…

I shift my feet. What a thought, Cassia. Jezz.

Declan smiles, that crooked smile, and looks down at the book he is holding. "Some other time, maybe."

Emmy tuts, but doesn't push. "So, how was school today?"

"Okay," Josh answers, obviously lying, just as Declan says "Purgatory, as usual."

I can't help my smile at this, and I look down to hide it.

"Tons of homework," Iona says brightly, before she turns to Declan. "Come on. I still need to kick your ass in Super Race."

"I'm game. Prepare for disappointment, though."

His twin huffs and leads the way to the living room. She turns before she rounds the corner and the boys walk past her. "Hey Cassia, want to see me embarrass Declan?"

"You wish!" He calls from the living room.

"Come on," Iona says beckoning with an elegant hand. Her smile is so gentle, and her eyes are so sweet, I can't resist. I'm giving in to an awful lot lately. I'm indulging myself. Yet I can't stop. It's completely addicting.

"Do you want to play?" Declan asks me.

I shake my head, startled by his request. How in the world would I know how to play video games? The controller he holds out to me looks like more of a torture device than a gaming utensil.

"Already trying to back out, bro?" Josh says teasingly as he throws an arm around Iona when she comes to sit beside him.

Declan cocks an eyebrow at him. "Never. Bring it on."

I take my seat in the same chair as I have used every time before in this room and I watch as Iona and Declan race equally silly looking cars on the big screen. It's serious business as both of them fire halfhearted insults at each other during the game. Iona beats her brother handily the first round.

Declan looks incredibly embarrassed. The high points of his cheeks and the back of his neck turning bright red. He mutters something about the first game never counting and looks over at me with a sweet grin. He’s having fun despite himself. His usual intensity diminished slightly and replaced by an easy carefree nature that is extraordinarily charming.

I force myself to look away.

Declan starts a new game and he and Iona race again, faces tense and fingers flying over controllers in order to get the cars on the screen to do what they want. Iona wins.

Nobody is really talking, apart from the occasional comment ("Three out of five!") or the occasional insult (“You really suck butt, Dec.”) and I find I am quite okay being here like this. They aren't paying any attention to me and it feels nice to be a part of this atmosphere, even, no, especially from the sideline.

It's incredibly selfish, I know, but I’m smiling more than I have in my entire life, I think.

The third round, Declan wins, and he pumps his fist in the air to celebrate a silent victory as Emmy comes in with drinks for everyone. She looks down at me and she's positively beaming.

"Are you okay?" She asks very softly so the others don’t hear.

I nod, showing her my smile.

"Good. That makes me happy." She whispers, and then she is away again.

Yeah, the woman confounds me. Something so casual makes her happy? I’m not doing anything special here.

And oh, that hug…

When Declan and Iona are on a tie, Nick comes home. He gets a snack from the kitchen and then comes to crash in the living room as well for a bit. It's a little crowded to my taste, but I try to stay calm. No signs of danger.

"Heya, Cassia!" Nick says as he sees me. "What a happy surprise!"

I cringe at his comment. Damn, I really need to get out of my cave more.

Declan makes a little “oof” sound and chuckles. Running hand through his messy hair as he stretches. His shoulders give a solid crack! and he relaxes back into his spot on the ouch. “Way to make it awkward, Uncle.”

Nick shrugs and mumbles something incoherent. "So, racing?" He tries.

The others chuckle and turn their attention back towards the game.

Whoa. I have rarely before witnessed this type of easy conversation. I am stunned.

"Cassia?" I look up and see Emmy standing at the entrance to the living room. "Will you join me in the kitchen for a moment?"

Oh, what did I do? I hurry to get up and do what she asks, trying to ignore the eyes I can feel watching my back. Emmy invites me to sit at the table and places a steaming mug of coffee before me. I lower my head in thanks and she smiles widely. "You're welcome. You really like coffee, don't you?"

I do. I used to be unable to function without it. I'm tense, anxious. What does she want?

She sits opposite me, with her own mug, smiling, although I don’t think she realizes that. "So, how are you? Really?"

I look up to meet her eyes and blush when again I think back to last night. Looking away quickly, I realize I don't know what exactly she means by her question. I tilt my head to the side.

"Do you feel good enough to stay up? How long did you end up sleeping for? Wait," She adds incoherently, and she gets up to produce creamer and sugar.

"Okay. I’m ready." She grins. It takes me a second to realize that she’s so focused on me because she wants me to sign at her. To my surprise, it doesn’t bother me to communicate right now. So I do.

Over ten glorious hours.

She grins, eyes flashing from my fingers to my face. "Good! Good! Do you have any pains still? Any discomfort? How is your throat?"

It's good enough. I shrug and nod. Nothing that I need extra medication for. Maybe I can just use Advil from now on?

"Okay. Just take it easy, will you? You don't have to do anything here but get better." She drops her chin into her hand, looking playful and young. I mean…I guess. To me, it's a non sequitur, and I try to hide my frown by picking up my mug. Sipping from my coffee, I realize how easy it has become in such a short time to even drink with others around.

"Is it confusing for you?" Emmy asks softly, after watching me for a moment.

Her words are so spot on right that I look up at her, unable to hide my surprise.

She chuckles softly, kindly. "I guess that it's different here from what you know?"

Yeah, you can say that again.

Emmy takes a drink, thinking. When she puts down her mug again, she takes a moment before she speaks. "It won't change, you know."

I blink, stunned. It stuns me every time she says something like this. I really don’t know why. She’s been on repeat since I got here.

"Here, I mean. How things are here. It won't change. Just making things clear," She smiles.

My breath escapes in a gust and I find I am shaking. Hesitantly, slowly, because I really mean it. Thank you, Emmy.

She waves away my thanks with another one of those sunny grins. "Oh, something else, I have filed a complaint against the doctor that examined you last week. He had no right whatsoever to treat you like he did, and he will have to answer for his actions."

My eyes go wide again, and I swallow. I wouldn't want that doctor to be in trouble because of me, but what strikes me more is that Emmy seems to think that the man did treat me badly. I have thought this over before but I'm apprehensive to draw any conclusions.

"He had no right," She repeats softly, yet sternly and I have the distinct feeling she is no longer talking about that doctor.

For the second time in less than thirty minutes, the room feels too hot and I don't know where to look. I wring my hands behind my mug. This is dangerous territory we are approaching here. I wonder, if she realizes that.

"Auntie, what will we have for dinner?"

My eyes fly up and I can see Declan standing at the breakfast bar. How long has he been standing there? I didn't hear him come in? What did he hear? Damnation, I really should start paying attention more. He's so quiet it's alarming.

Emmy fills him in on the menu and I fidget, uncomfortable.

"Speaking of which, I should get dinner going." She stands up and puts her mug in the dishwasher. Declan trails back into the living room, with a lasting look in my direction, which I do not return. When he is gone, Emmy asks, "You okay? You look flustered."

I shrug it away, hands flexing.

What can I do to help?

She smiles at me, although the look is cheeky and mischievous. "You can help me by taking it easy. Keep me company if you want or join the others in the living room. Whatever you like." Emmy shrugs, carefully folding and refolding a towel before her.

Whatever I like… Taking the shot I speak again.

I'd like to be cooking.

Emmy is smug as she nods. She's trying to hide it, but I think she's happy that I communicated an actual desire. However, she can't be any smugger than I am right now. I am helping out.

I am finally making myself useful.

I am pleased with myself indeed.

When Josh steps in and starts to set the table without much more than a mumbled greeting, I look at him for a moment. I'm tensed up, but he's not paying me any attention whatsoever as he sets out six plates in a manner that drips with routine. I shift my gaze to Emmy, narrowing my eyes at her. She sees me and laughs, a happy laugh.

Hey, what's so funny here?

Even Josh stills, surprised. “Uh—Auntie did you lose your mind for a second?”

"I'm sorry," Emmy apologizes, but the corners of her mouth keep tugging into a smile. "I should have handled that differently. But you look so indignant. I'm sorry," She repeats, and laughs again.

Josh hesitates, probably sensing he's intruding something, then turns to leave the kitchen. "I'll come back later."

Looking back at Emmy, I wait for her to explain why I am not allowed to help out when the others obviously do, and even without being told.

"I'm sorry," Emmy says again, somewhat serious now. "Let me try to explain. You probably took care of the entire household back in Los Angeles, didn't you?"

Carefully, I nod. Where is she going with this? I notice though that she doesn't use William’s name.

"Because it was expected of you?"

Again, I nod. My heart is slowly picking up speed as my apprehension builds. I clasp my hands together.

"And there were consequences when you didn't?"

I swallow thickly and I can see on her face that my reaction says more than any other sign could do.

Emmy thinks for a moment, her mouth grim as she processes my responses. All traces of her earlier mirth gone.
"That's what I thought. I wanted to teach you that we do not expect you to take care of the entire household. I thought it better to not let you do anything, for fear that you would do more and more. You see, we spoke to Jackie about this and she warned us you would. We wanted to give you some time off. Later, when you feel better and more at ease around us, you can do your part."

I listen, stupefied.

She faces me completely as she continues, dinner bubbling and snapping behind her. "It's not that we think you wouldn't be able to do it, but we don't want you to do it. Not for now, at least. You have to learn to enjoy your life, without feeling obliged to take care of the house, or those who live inside it. You’re a teenager Cassia, you should have the chance to live like one instead of as an adult."

Okay, now she's starting to talk nonsense.

"There will be no consequences if you don't make yourself useful," She finishes in a much softer voice.

Baffled, I look at this woman, my caretaker, my foster–aunt.

"Never, Cassia. Remember the contract? No violence."

I look away, fidgeting again. I stick my hands in my sweater pocket. How do I convey that this life she doesn’t want me to live is all I know? That ‘living as a teenager’ is so completely foreign to me that I can’t even begin to guess what that entails. How do I completely change my programming? How do I do any of this?

I stress for a few more moments before a yawn takes me by surprise.

"Will you rest?" Emmy’s voice from over my shoulder. Of course, she saw that. My goodness. But I guess she was watching me to see if I had anything to say in regard to her speech. I’ll have to stew over that some more until I lose my mind trying to figure out what this all means.

I might. The words are quick, and I don’t look at her. I hope Emmy understands that I’m not upset. Just overwhelmed. I turn to the sink to wash my hands and resume chopping the last of the vegetables to indicate this conversation is over if I have any say in it.

Emmy sighs softly and turns back to the stove, stirring dinner in its pot. After a minute or two, Josh strolls back into the kitchen like nothing has happened and he finishes to set the table.

Only now do I fully register that the table is set for six.

My movements still as I take in this tiny fact. I—All thoughts leave my mind. I’m touched that they would do this for me, but at the same time I feel bad that they go through all this effort only to stare at a blank space on their table every night. I frown slightly, uncomfortable as I shift on my feet. I glance at Emmy over my shoulder, question in my eyes.

"Of course, we set the table for you," She answers softly, reassuringly as she notices the direction of my gaze. "You are part of our family now." When I tear away my eyes from her to look at the table once more, she smiles. "Will you join us for dinner? You don't have to eat if that's too much, but maybe you will join us?"

Oh Jesus, will she ever stop asking me questions like this? Seeing my hesitation, Emmy continues. "You don't have to. Would you rather eat in your room?"

I have spent the afternoon in the company of others and to be honest, I am exhausted. I guess I have to take my social time like I take my meds, in doses.

So, I eat up in my room once again, sitting by the door with my tray so that I am able to listen to the banter and conversation down stairs. It’s like I’m sitting with them—in a way. I feel guilty and awkward when I return to the kitchen to clear my dishes away.

From the living room, I can hear the TV. In the kitchen, I’m startled to see Declan, rummaging through the freezer. He looks up when he hears me and smiles in greeting.

"It's becoming a habit, us meeting in the kitchen," He says, a crooked grin lingering on his face, as he pulls out a tub of mint chocolate chip ice cream.

The corners of my mouth turn into a smile at his words. He's right. It seems that every time we are alone together, it is in this kitchen.

"So, how are you? Really?" His eyes are ablaze with sincerity as he asks me the exact same question his aunt asked me earlier. He keeps shooting me glances as he gets a second mug from the cabinet above him and scoops out two healthy portions of dessert. He places the second mug on the breakfast bar before me while he finds spoons, looking at me from the drawer.

He notices me pointing to the ice cream he got on his hand, which is melting and sliding off his skin.

"Oh shit. Uh—Thanks. Well?" He asks, licking up the side of his hand to catch his mess. I watch, semi-intrigued, barely noticing that he leaned closer to stick a spoon in the mug before me.

I give a one-shouldered shrug. I'm not overly tired, but I don't want to be uselessly lying in bed again.

"You know, I'd be staying in bed as long as I could if I was you," He says softly, lightly. A little air of mischievousness at the edge of his grin. "I’m just lazy like that though. It's amazing to see you up and about already."

He indicates that the mug before me is indeed intended for me and slowly I scoop out a small spoon of the treat. To what do I owe this unbelievable kindness?

Munching on a piece of chocolate from the ice cream, he steps back and leans against the counter, completely at ease. "Do you remember that you screamed last night?"

I shifted, looking away and lowering the spoon without taking the bite. Oh man. I shrug again, not really wanting to answer, but knowing it’s better that I do and do so honestly.

"You really had us worried," Declan says. A hand trails up to rub the back of his neck. He's uncomfortable.

That's a common reaction people have around me and I am used to it. Then how come that with him, it matters?

"Anyway, good to know your voice still works, eh?" He makes a show of shrugging, giving me yet another playful grin. I don’t really know how to react. I remember Nick saying something similar to Emmy as she was holding me last night. I think he thought I was asleep. Why do they consider this so important? I really don't see the fuss.

Seeing my expression, his smile falters, spoon halfway up to his lips. "You're not happy to know that?"

I cock my head, confused. Why would I be happy about this?

He exhales, lost for words. Well, this is awkward. I fumble with the glass, not sure what to do. I grip the handle about to bolt up the stairs, but Declan looks like he wants to say something so bad, that I linger.

The sound of his telephone pierces through the silence in the kitchen and while I jolt, his face doesn't change as his hand slips into his pocket to get his cell out. Checking the screen, he presses a button and the phone silences. He looks up at me, apologetically. "It's Lola. You know, the girl you met Sunday? I broke up with her last week, but she keeps calling me."

Looking down at his feet, he sniggers. "She told everyone at school that I had cheated on her. Unbelievable."

Oh, is that why Josh said something about his mistress? Makes sense now.

Declan shifts his gaze back to me. "She wasn't very nice to you when you met her here. I'm sorry for that. She had no right and I told her so."

Again, with the right…

"Anyway, I have to get going. Homework, and such." He puts his empty glass in the sink and turns to leave the kitchen. At the corner, he turns around. "It's nice to see you down here with us, Cassia. It means a lot to the family and—and to me."

Then he's gone, leaving me cold and lonely once more