Indra

eighteen | grief

eighteen | GRIEF
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I N D R A F O R E S T

I hate days like this.

Days that are wrapped into a windstorm of nostalgia and sadness, destroying the days of happiness I have.

I sit down on the comfortable mattress, watching Beau close the dark red door. I hear him lock the door, and my fingers dig into the palm of my hand. "Can you leave it unlocked, for me?" He glances over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow for confirmation. "Just in case my mom or brother decided to come unexpectedly."

I always imagine what they would do when I needed comfort, and I hope that my imagination becomes a reality one day.

Beau nods, unlocking the door and sauntering towards me. He props down next to me, and I move my chin around to feel the dry tears on my face. Something about that seems so pleasing to me.

"Indra." Beau calls out, the soft pads of his brush against my sensitive hand. "Have you eaten today?" I shake my head. "I'm going to make you something." He stands up to his feet, his veiny hands slide inside his front jean jacket, and I watch him enter himself into the small kitchen. He opens multiple of the brown old cabinets I failed to reappear, searching for some ingredients and utensils to make food.

"Don't burn down my apartment." I shout, noticing him furrowing his eyebrows in confusion.

"I'll try not to." He says, his voice cracks a bit when he drops a spoon on the ground. He turns to me with a bright smile, then drops down to grab the spoon.

I place my phone on the wooden table next to my bed, lifting my legs off the floor and planting them on the bed. I snuggle my head into a soft, delicate pillow, my eyes flutter shut to the sounds of Beau struggling to cook.

━

A few pecks on my cheek jolt me awake. My waist was shaken by a large hand. "Time to wake up, bébé." I groan, nudging Beau away from me. He kisses my cheek again, "I know you want to sleep, but you need food in your system." I scoot my body away from the bed, but Beau's hand pulls me back to the edge. I groan, removing the covers off my body as he backs from the bed.

I don't remember covering myself with a duvet.

I throw my legs over the bed, groans slipping off my lips as I land on my feet. I felt a warm hand on my lower back, leading me into the kitchen as if I wasn't moving in the first place. My fingers slim through the marble countertop and stop when it reaches a plate with small puffs covered with cinnamon and another plate with eggs.

"The eggs are for you, but we're sharing the breakfast puffs." He cheekily says, propping his elbow on the counter next to me. "Favorite thing my grandmother ever made."

I smile softly, watching his reaction to his brief talk about his grandmother. He never brought up anything about his family, until now.

I grab the top of the puffs and shove it inside my mouth, a moan due to the flavors dissolving in my mouth slips off my lips. "Hey." Beau calls out, lightly slapping my hand for it to fall out of my mouth. I furrow my eyebrows, facing him. "We're supposed to split them in half before we eat them."

"Why can't we just eat them like it is." I argue, reaching out for more, but Beau slaps my hands again.

"So, you could get more than me? I think not." Beau lightly smiles, walking past me to open a cabinet. He pulls out a plate and closes the cabinet after. He splits the plate of puffs in half, giving himself an extra one because I already had eaten one. I rolled my eyes due to his action. "See it's fair now."