I'll Share With You My Heartbeat

fifteen

It was nice to be comforted. And Lennon's apartment had been very comforting lately.

Socks was awake now, making all kinds of desperate noises until the boy cut up some cantaloupe and left some in its bowl. It mewled, going straight to its meal.

"I thought cats eat fish and cat food," Kieran remarked, propping himself up on a kitchen stool.

"Cats can eat melon too." Lennon placed the rest onto a plate and fetched himself a reusable plastic toothpick. "A lot of vitamins A and C. Also meat. Socks likes eating meat."

"Another reason why I think it's plotting my murder."

Both of them turned questioningly towards Socks, who couldn't be bothered to look at them, munching away at its cantaloupe.

"Well, you're already unalive, so," Lennon laughed, sticking a piece of melon into his mouth, "No further damage Socks can do."

"Unalive," Kieran repeated, amused.

"You know what I mean. Hm, want some?"

The ravenhead watched the boy push the plate of fruit towards him. "I don't exactly eat, Len. Remember?"

"Ah yes." Lennon slapped himself on the forehead. "My attention span and my memory are horrid. I'm sorry."

Kieran shook his head, chuckling. "You're talking to the guy who can't recall half his life. No need to apologize."

A comfortable silence enveloped the pair, the air permeating with the sweet, musky smell of melon and the tapping of Lennon's fork against the plate. Cream-colored walls and cactuses by the windows. Scratch marks across the bottom of the couch. The coffee table with dark circular stains. Cat fur tangled into the lattice rug.

Lennon looked so natural in this home, hair tousled, posture relaxed, happily eating his cut-up fruit.

Perhaps Kieran had been away from home for too long to remember what it was like.

"Kieran, can you be honest with me?"

God, every time this boy says his name he swears his lifespan increases. Figuratively. Kind of.

The ravenhead placed his hand dramatically over his heart. "I'll be honest."

"Do I talk too much?"

Kieran's heart sank to his stomach and the same second the boy put his fork down. "Lennon, no."

"I need you to be honest," the boy insisted, as if the right answer was yes, "I'd rather you just tell me if I am so I can stop second-guessing."

The ravenhead leaned his body weight forward, seeking Lennon's full attention. "I promise you, Len, you do not talk too much," he said earnestly, "You can talk to me all day any time."

But Lennon's smile was wobbly, uncertain. "Someone said that to me once."

Confused as to what that means, Kieran fell silent and let the chestnut boy continue on his own.

With a quiet sigh, Lennon pointed down the hallway. "I was supposed to share this apartment with her. My studio was supposed to be her room."

"What... what happened?"

"She left," the chestnut boy revealed, arm falling limp, "Moved away with her family. Her mom found a job outside of town." There was a tang of bitterness in Lennon's tone that threw Kieran off guard.

Lennon and bitter didn't go well together.

He glanced at the closed studio door. "I have a feeling you're not friends anymore."