I want you close

Chapter sixteen

Gift, painting, details and cigarettes.

Eleanor's point of view:

I woke up in my bed, I do not remember getting here. I opened the curtains and it was dark outside, I checked the time and it was 3 in the morning, I must have slept all day since we got home late.

After I changed and freshened up, I went downstairs to the living room. I finally know my way around after being lost every day for the past month or so.

"Have you got enough sleep?" Clyde's voice startled me."Sorry, didn't mean to scare you."

"It's okay," I said. "And yes, I have had good enough sleep. Have you?"

"I am glad," he said."Yes, I have."

He shuffled in his place, scratched the back of his neck then walked back and forth.

"Would you stop that?" I said, becoming nervous because of his rapid movement. "What's wrong?"

"I have got you something," he murmured then disappeared into one of the rooms and came back with a board looking gift wrapped with brown wrapping paper with a little bow on the side.

"For me?" I questioned, with a smile on my face. "Why is that?"

"No reason," he said as he handed it to me.

I started opening it slowly, then removed the paper away revealing a box with an art stand print on it. " Oh my god," I said calmly. "Oh my god!" I jumped in my place and clapped then a tear fill down my eyes, I couldn't stop it.

"Did I do something wrong?" He questioned nervously.

"No, no" I assured. "It's just, no one has ever given me a gift before."

"Never?" He asked, I shook my head, confirming. "Well, there is a first for everything am I right?"

I nodded with a smile then started to open the box. "Could you help me building it?"

"Of course."

We laughed quite a lot at our failed attempts, and for some reason, I wanted to hear the sound of his laughter for eternity; he did not do it quite often, he tends to have a frown on his face from the moment he wakes up, till he goes back to sleep.

we eventually managed to build it right. And as soon as the sun has raised, I went outside to the garden and placed it there to paint. Painting after painting I drew my favourite parts of the garden before my eyes, but something I don't expect doing is him.

I moved the previous painting of a flower aside when I saw him far above; smoking in his room's balcony and gazed at the sky.

My hand moved on the white paper as I shifted my eyes between it and him. I drew every detail; the veins in his hand, his pointy jaw, his mesmerising black curls and, the cigarette and the smoke that left his mouth, which I wanted to pull away and slap him in the face to stop him from inhaling its deadly chemicals.

Four, eight, twelve, that's it!

I rushed back inside the castle and took the stairs two at a time. I struggled to find his room, but I eventually did. I kicked his door open then walked into his balcony and immediately snatched the cigarette out of his hand. "Twelve?" I questioned.

"What?" He snapped, shifting his gaze between me and his cigarette that is now held disgustingly between my fingers.

"Twelve cigarettes Clyde!"

"So?" He asked, then reached his hand to take it. "give it back.

"No!" I refused as I pulled it away from his reach, "no more of that deadly crap." He looked at me for a moment, then reached for another one from his packet. I tried to pull it away, but he caught my hand before I could do so. "Do you know the danger every little sip contains?" I asked, "it has Nicotine, Hydrogen cyanide, Formaldehyde, Ammonia Benzene and so much more!" I listed the words I remembered from a newspaper I once read. "Do you know what's the short-term effects? Bad breath, Fatigue and a decrease in energy, and Reduction in the senses of taste and smell." I continued, "what about in the long run? increased risk of stroke and brain damage, eye cataracts, macular degeneration. Do you want a prefix? Death."

"Why do you care?" He asked.

I tried to catch my breath by taking deep breaths in and out slowly due to my long speech. Then I realised the pain I was feeling on my wrist because of his tight grip, "ow," I said, he eyed me confused. "You are hurting me," he followed my gaze to my wrist then immediately let go.

"Sorry," he said as I rubbed the red spot marked by his fingers. "I have to go to work," he got up and left me in his room alone, that's when I realised this is the first time I have been in here. His room did not reflect his personality at all, or at least it doesn't match the Clyde I know. It has vinyl records hanged on the wall, lyrics as a wallpaper on one of the three white walls while one kept all black, with nothing on it to give it life. His bedding was simple; grey. On the right side, he had a small ally that led Hall that contained what I assume a clothing room at the end of it. I peaked; it had endless shelves filled with shoes, suits, jackets and caps.

I walked out, not wanting to stay in any longer without his permission. I closed the door behind me and went downstairs to the garden to continue drawing for a while longer.