German Boy

Chapter 7: Friends

After seeing his hurt face, I couldn't help but laugh. "Grumpy boy gets hurt by alcohol." I am insulted.

I thought he would be mad at me and poke my head or what, but out of my expectations, he shook his head and laughed.

Maybe he was trying to be a little less cranky, so I would stop teasing him that way. Or he just found it funny when I didn't.

I put all the medication tools back into the first aid kit bag, including the leftover bandages, the betadine, the alcohol, and the pieces of cotton. Meanwhile, I placed a bandaid on his bruise.

I gently pat it to make it stick, which hurt him a bit by curving his lips in pain. "Sorry," I said. He didn't reply after that.

"Wait for me," I energetically looked at him, then tucked a piece of my messy hair behind my ear, then ran back to our house.

I made sure no one saw me putting the kit back. Not like I was keeping it a secret. I was just hoping they wouldn't ask me why I got it. Especially dad who would check every single part of my body to inspect if I was hurt.

And that's the thing about being a six-year-old kid with overprotective parents.

It made me feel like I was loved by everyone. I liked that.

I came back without anything. I just sat beside him on the staircase of our balcony and flipped my hair. It was very messy that day. And at that moment, I was still catching my breath. I was tired of chasing him.

The silence wrapping us around was insane. It was awkward. None of us knew what to say. We remained quiet. We were both just staring at the road and the cars passing us by.

Together the trees danced as the wind blew them away and birds flew in the sky. I swung my head through the peace. Just sitting beside him was enough to make me feel nervous.

"So..." I spoke.

"Yeah?" I felt him looking at me.

"What should we do now?" I asked, keeping my head on the road. I didn't want to look at him. Just to avoid complications.

"Definitely something not involving tiredness that could lead me to get another bruise." He crossed his arms.

There he goes, being his real self again.

"Then what should be that something?" I responded.

"I don't know. Probably nothing. Let's just sit here and wait until the sunset, I guess?"

"That's boring!" This guy should get a life.

"What's boring? It's not! Let's observe nature." He slightly smiled from nowhere.

I realized how good-looking he was when he smiled. It was something like a light that lit up the whole town.

"There's no nature in cars passing by and houses in front of us." I turned out to be the one being a philosopher there.

"Get that book, then!" He pointed to the book he left on the ground which he was reading earlier.

"No, I won't," I said with conviction.

He frowned.

"Why not?"

"Because I know what you will do."

"What?"

"You'll stop talking to me and just read that book!" He chuckled. He became more charming with that slight laugh he gave out.

"Are you a stalker? We just met and you already know me!" Yes, he was suspecting me. One word to describe him: Paranoid.

"Maybe I'm just a great observer. Not exactly a stalker." I smiled.

"Okay," he agreed. Probably to stop the nonsensical chatter we were having.

"Why didn't you want me to call your parents earlier when you tripped down?" Out of the blue, I asked.

"I didn't want them to worry about me." I nodded. It was reasonable though. Same as me. Sometimes, I don't like telling things to my mom and dad thinking they will scold me and blame me for it.

"Is it true you're eight years old?"

"What? Will I lie?"

"So, it's true?"

"Obviously."

"That means you're two years older than me!"

"Why? How old are you?"

"I'm six."

"You're young,"

"Yeah."

"How old are your sisters?"

"None of your business." The smile vanished on his face.

"They are my friends. How can that be none of my business?" I knew I was wrong. I just wanted to argue with him. It looked fun.

"Just because they invited you once to a beach celebration, doesn't mean you're already friends with them." And that was proof.

"That's the same thing!" I demanded.

"No, it's not."

I rolled my eyes. "How can it not be the same?"

"There's a huge difference."

"Go on,"

"Inviting you when you were alone and had no one to play with was an act of kindness. It was an act of being genuine to a kid as a mature woman. Meanwhile, on the other hand, we can say that you're friends with someone if you have a deep relationship with them. If you trust them, you lean on them, and most of all, if they are important to you." I confirmed that day that he was truly a walking dictionary.

I knew he was right. But because of my pride as a young kid, I wanted to prove myself and tell him he was wrong though I knew he was not.

"So we're friends?" I philosophically asked.

It made me frown hard. "What? No! Definitely not!"

"Because you said you're friends with someone if they are important to you and you trust them. I trust you, and you are important to me." I batted my eyelashes thinking it would have made me look gorgeous but it honestly did not. Perhaps it made me look weirder than earlier.

"Ugh!" He shut his eyes in annoyance and took a deep breath.

"We don't have a deep relationship so we're not friends."

"But I know you, you know me too. Doesn't that makes us friends?"

"It doesn't! It's nonsense!"

"Whatever," I said. "If we're not friends for you then for me we are! Whatever you say, we're friends in my opinion." I faked a smile.

I tried so hard for him to have me as a friend. Because I liked him.

And that day, even if we weren't friends yet, I made myself think we were But it was dressed up in heated emotions.