When There's No One Else But You and Me (𝖹𝖠𝖱𝖱𝖸)

Chapter II

Chap. II: Flower

The boy's outside a lot.

Holding onto his hose, his feet bare and curled into the perfectly cut grass as he just stands there most days, flinging blotchy water back and forth on the roses. Sometimes he doesn't even look up unless his Mother―or who Zain presumes is his Mother―calls him inside for lunch. Her hair falling infront of her face as she peeks her head from behind the screen door and urges―hand motion included―him to come inside. Other times she has lunch in her hands and a checkered blanket slung across her shoulder as she pushes the screen door open with her hip and sets everything down on the other (non-wet) side of the lawn.

The boy usually puts the hose down and Zain just watches the water glugs from the long green tube and onto the sidewalk, where it spreads and spreads―painting the sidewalk a tinted gray until the boy is done eating and gets back to watering his roses again.

Zain notices how there's sometimes a car parked in the driveway. A Chevrolet the color of charcoal, and how the boys's mother always rushes over to the person in enthusiasm: arms out and a smile ten times bigger than what it once was.

He has never seen the person's face before. Just his hair―which is the same color as the car―peppered in strands of silver (in what Zain assumes) is from old age. And if he looks close enough he's sure he can
make out the outline of a packet of Marlboros in his back pocket. But he isn't so sure. Could easily be a stuffed wallet.

☮

Today was a lot different, however, because today the boy was not alone while he watered those stupid roses.

☮

Zain had lazily lolled his head over to the right where it had been perched on the meat of his arms. The sun hit his smack dab in the face and made him sleepier even as time ticked on, had it being just striking 12 PM. This had become something that it shouldn't have—him just staring out the window and finding his line of view hit the boy across the street watering his near-death roses. Zain didn't even like roses, nor did he like the boy who had cut eyes at him three days ago; but it beat having to be forced into playing dress-up or―God forbid―cards with his two obnoxious sisters. So with all of that being said, watching the boy water his roses wasn't all that bad. Well... It was, because it was boring but whenever he thinks about having that blond, hideous wig his sisters had bought with their money on his head―all of a sudden watching a boy garden was just the most enjoyable thing in the world.

He blinked his eyes slowly as they started to dry out from the sun. The boy swished his hose around again and Zain just had to indolently roll his eyes, because didn't he do that twenty times already? This was boring. Watching a boy water his stupid near-death roses was boring. Couldn't he do something else? Like run around his yard in nothing but underwear and scream out something stupid.

Now that'd be funny.

Zain smiled at his own impulsive thoughts and raised his head up off of his arms. He'd call it a day. He'd probably get a nap. He'd also probably get slapped in the head when he wakes up to his Mom, because she hates it when he sleeps in at unreasonable hours but most times it's really never his fault.

Zain stretches out, his arms reaching above his head and yawns aloud.

He scans the block one last time just out of habit, lingering his eyes over at the boy. He's still watering his roses and Zain scoffs, offended. How dare he still be boring? So, really, it's all this boys' fault for making him take a little nap because if he were doing something more interesting then sleep wouldn't be an option.